In a valley deep between two huge mountains i stand, wide eyed and embarrassingly caught in the middle. They look down and they meet at the tips of my feet, i am insignificant. They are mountains their understanding of fragility is ancient and forgotten.
In a valley so deep, i stand, i crawl and i scratch out my flaws. I am hard at work but i am no mountain after all, i doubt i can ever be. The pressure of greatness keeps the valley down and only makes the mountains seem higher above.
A defeated person, inhibited from the inside and pressured from the outside can only take so much; a collapse is to be anticipated. I love collapse; freeing, truthful, and inevitable. Collapse is the truest form of expression, nothing is held back, nothing remains inside. You collapse to see yourself and your life as it really is. No more lies, no more pretending, nothing but the revelation of your insides to yourself and everyone around you. There is no shame in collapse. Even mountains collapse.
So collapse my dear, the excitement is excruciating and exhausting.
In the land of no belief and no angels she suddenly flashes her eyes open. Fear smudges itself upon her face as she camouflages her fragile and naive self. What resembles her in this land ? What resembled her in other lands? Has anything ever resembled her? Nothing there.
Yet there it is again standing so passively and guilt ridden. That bleakness of a loneliness she thought she’d never see anymore. It is the same in every land and no camouflage ever managed to hide her from its intoxicating eyes. She knew those eyes; they always found her, apparently they still do.
Caught between two extremities, and she runs from both. At each end waits one demon and one angel. There is no way within and no way without. She escapes one demon to find that another awaits thirsty and passionate for her flaws. She comforts herself with the angel ahead, yet mourns the one she lost. And so the spectrum remains and she refrains…nights and days merge and emerge only to free her from nothing but dreams.
Something is missing as she drinks liquid blessings and smokes winning bets. She never worked for anything, she never asks.
She never crashed into anything but herself.
In the land of every belief and divine beings, she is yet to catch herself.
A little flame inside. It is under so many passions and flaws. It burns and burns.
Its is an energy and the wrath of so many evils. It is quiet and unnecessary. It exists as an entity and a shrine for the hunger to devour and shred apart sanity.
That flame becomes a fire and it burns through you and across you. The fire ignites every sense in you and it grows. It seeps through your bloodshot eyes and it numbs your composure. You need it, it becomes vital and unyeilding. It becomes furious and petrifying. Your fists clench and your mind screams. You hear your heart and it beats louder and louder until it is unbearable, the fire growls in you and at you.
You look away at nothingness, at a void, you try to extinguish it with sanity but that was long gone along with all the things you had said and vomitted out. You look inside and the fire is hungry, it crawls inside you now and it mocks your every thought. Everything becomes wrong, you become the definition of it. All your lucid dreams and pretty faces vanish into a pit of fire and ash.
Your only escape out of the pit becomes everything unsaid and undone. Your mind turns off every light in you, an absolute shutdown. Your eyes become heavy and the shredding fire turns every emotion in you in to gray ash of what used to be. Sleep, the only non-destructive action you can still do.
And with that choice after all, you lay down your arms and you let the fire be. You turn it over to your unconscious, for consciousness is a wrecked state now. It is ravished and empty.