Energy Given freely Is as breathing For me Understanding Until now, ive had so much of it But, frankly I Am Utterly Exhausted I Speak Truth I Endless hope I Set Boundries I Don’t give up ……Why do I feel guilty?
Truth I am prey Human predators smell empathy As Sharks smell blood in the water Allowing myself to be used without equal reciprocity Used Endless cycle(s) of neglect Affection to weapon Sex to Weapon Shrunk as weapon Tool of endless emotional grounding Control Power Stability Comfort
I Am Tired …….So very very tired And I’m afraid I Have Changed I Am Broken Victim Survivor Pariah
A life devoid of touch, love, passion, a pillar of rough-hewn granite, to make other’s lives more comfortable so they don’t have to feel guilt. A mirrored avatar to reflect what they want to see; taking responsibility for the cowardly acts of their Phantoms. Selfish Ideological Narcissists, making victims that exist in the interstitial spaces, Acceptable losses in the war. A living taboo, stigmatized, no one wants to touch this flesh, it is taboo made real. Aged masculinty shattered into dull edges, ego ripped out, longtime ideological identity destroyed; the devouring mother’s hunger satiated.
I no longer want to try to identify with anyone, as anyone, or with any group. All are phantoms. The gulf is now infinite. Not your spaces in-between, because nothing exists on either side. Playing my part in the background, while the Phantoms roleplay; it’s the curse of total detached awareness & empathy. Pain hidden in the shadows, invisible to all.
Pariah is my rightful place, I am the sacrificial king: I will let this demon eat my soul.
……and I will REVEL in the consumption
One with the Pariah that haunts the interstitial spaces
the Pariah that whispers to the phantoms in your nightmares
I’ve been reluctant to share this one. The vulnerable parts of me in this water color are still part of me now.
Some people re-invent themselves, that is a skill I don’t possess. I carry everything because it’s me and good or bad I own it, and owing it is important. If you don’t own your choices, you make villians of others as an excuse for your actions. There is far to much of that in our world.
Except for the most important space, which has been void for ages. The void is immense, and I doubt now it will ever be filled again.
Things, nicknaks, books in towers, shoes upon shoes, pans atop pans, prints upon prints. So many “things”. Things purchased not out of need, but to fill someone elses void. Things saved and forgotten in boxes, to collect dust for nostalgia? Need?
No amount of organizing, cleaning, no matter how much you do ever matters, nor works. The teetring mountain of things will overwhelm you, it will tip over on you and you will become lost in the clutter.
When you realize that you are part of the clutter, just another thing with no space left for self. So you forget who you are, and give up more space until you are part of the background, part of the clutter in someone elses life.
Then you become the house, to hold the clutter. The Foundation, encompassing all, keeping things safe, keeping the peace, like Atlas all of the weight is on your shoulders.
Then you disappear, until you speak up, only to be given a performance to pull you back, to get you to go silent, to forget again, to meld back into the clutter. To get you to be a creek in the wood of the foundation on a freezing day.
Woe, my story is the story of millions of others, both men and women, i know im not alone in this tale. Just another fool/tool; be it fear of being alone, or keeping your honor and word out of pride, or not giving up in the face of overwhelming defeat. Where is the logic in any of that when you finally realize you are a thing? Knowing that you are a provider, a foundation, the protection, but not valued or recognized for any of it, or shown real affection or love. You are just a thing to be used for the comfort of others.
This my dear, is what fools do. Maybe im the king of fools. To know the truth, walking that fine line between speaking truth to power, but at the same time knowing you’re the punchline of the biggest self-owning joke of all time.
Actually, on second thought, Mike Ness can keep his crown. I have no need to be the king of anything.
Ecoheretic 