Saturday, October 11, 2008

Victim of somebody elses fetishes Part II

Page after page of dates, histories and facts. There is a world out there that swirls in its own doings and undoings as I type and retype. A coffee stands by me, guiding my way in the dark. There is a world out there that turns back to see itself, finds recognition and goes back like a dog after its tail.
The daylight that no one saw has slowly begun to sink with the rays of hope. It had always been sinking for me, but then I moved out like the others. There was no looking back, there just wasn’t. We all walked forwards into the pasts that our flesh and blood was assigned much before we were born.
Unlike me, my body knows where to take me. My appointments here and based solely on its liking and it’s fetishes tie me down. I try and take the most crowded route because learning from the outside has always been a safer ploy for me. I like to spend, I like to smoke, I like to fuck, I like to drink, claimed some of them as I passed by, wrapped around innocent minds, too slow to register the perpetual winter that their childhood has entered. No changes planned there, not unless the flesh and blood found new souls, found new minds. For now, there was rotting, crows feet, despair followed by bouts of wisdom.
The blinding light of joy lifts its skirts to reveal the sorrow that always hides underneath and in sadness they always find their way back in. Little pleasures that always crush, that hold us back, hoping there will be more and they will always be so good.
Like scabs we will pick and pull, enjoying it as we go down.
And when the wound resurfaces we’ll break down, fall to pieces, waking up to find ourselves joined at the hip to yesterday’s picture story -
Each one rubbed a little at the edges, each one fading. Each one a memory we can’t nail down definitively but can always recognize somewhere deep inside.
Soon the scab grows back, we stand back in lines, to march forward, backward, wherever we can go from here.
Never be static, never be static, the Big Brother hiding inside me chants.
An age is walked through and this generation has begun to sink. A mother opens her arms and the children rush back, angry and hurt, still childlike underneath there somewhere.

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11 Comments:

Blogger Ashes said...

this is so beautiful.You never wrote better and you have written with great beauty earlier too.But this is so romantic.
Wish i could write half as good.But then we are different people.Different skill sets.

7:47 PM  
Blogger De.vile said...

Aww come now, why be so modest.

11:50 PM  
Blogger Rex Venom said...

The last part, the mother's arms part, sort of made me uneasy. Like an old Twilight Zone show or something...
Rock on!

7:15 AM  
Blogger DLAK said...

first of all I am soooooooo jealous. I have never seen you comment on someones comment before. Ashes must be ... wait a minute I just looked at his blog. He is having a battle of wits with Saby LOL okay Im not jealous any more.

5:32 AM  
Blogger De.vile said...

I'd rather send you a 500 word mail than comment on your comments. And Saby is a, well. So leave him be, jimbo

10:38 PM  
Blogger anonant said...

Very nice!
For now, there was rotting, crows feet, despair followed by bouts of wisdom.
:)
It is writing like this that pushes back the despair and allows for longer bouts of wisdom.
peace

10:07 PM  
Blogger The Wandering Hermit said...

Bravo...
Stellar writing..

2:52 AM  
Blogger Jimmy said...

NIGGA

2:52 AM  
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