It slips away when you aren’t looking, when you think it is never to be lost again. It seeps through your eyes and your pores. It drips out of your mouth as you speak, as you lie. Bit by bit, all that light begins to dim and you find your spirit sore and abandoned. It is spiritual beating it is beyond cognitive pain. It is excruciating to feel as though you have just almost found what you wanted and let it slip without really fully grabbing it.
The journey begins again, but this time you know what you are looking for; you tasted it and felt it before. It all makes sense; you can never Un-know something you have become aware of. It is impossible to forget what you refuse to let go of.
I dig, one mental black hole and into another. One simple thought becomes a lifetime belief and I refuse it. I look for that light beneath trenches of webbed and darkened thought. I stumble into realms of self hate all disguised as intelligence, all disguised as reality. Somehow there is a way out and I am not afraid. I am not afraid of this anymore, so i slow down…I slow down because there is nothing to be running away from it is all right where it should be. I am exactly where I should be. I recognize these walls, I spent years building them all, thought by thought, doubt over doubt. I recognize my demons and my still open wounds. One deep breath, two deep breaths and my beat is on repeat. All of this is my world, I am just on the opposite side of the fence. I like the other side much better and I refuse to let it get away from me. I walk. One step saves the next and i make my way. The confusion drills holes in my shoes, the path is difficult and elusive but I keep my pace I focus on my guide. One spec of light. It takes a single spec of light to grab a thread, which becomes a rope which becomes a bridge which becomes my kingdom of light.
And so she held out her heart in a deserted land where air longed to be breathed. She watched as life stood still as she took off her beauty and undressed her shame. She swallowed the dryness of her past and hollowness of her presence. Nobody in sight, nothing but her own world surrounded her.
She closed her eyes and took to a rythm she barely knew. It soothed her insides, and calmed her nerves. A rythm so continuous she thought closing her eyes for one more day wouldn’t hurt. Yet the thought itself was warm enough to last her a lifetime, and so she opened her eyes and walked.
She walks over days and demons. Life throbs within her and subsides at the walls of her skin. Blank face with an occasional grin, polite and reserved, nothing seems to break her or even move her.
She stands and waits for a train to come and take her home, but she never seems to get on the right track. Everywhere she goes, no body knows of the story she writes.
She walks and sometimes runs past mysteries and worlds. She steps on stone and on words, surrounded by faces and occasional flirts of indecency. Nothing seems to break past the coldness of her stare and seldom speech.
Millions and her single self facing some kind of social mutation, a mutilation of perspective caused by a subculture of misunderstandings and lack of interest.
She knows the force within her sits quietly at the base of her throat. It squeezes itself against the walls of harmless silence.
A voice from within soothes her anxieties and calms her difficulties. She has become so comfortable with the self correcting process of a solitary mind, she has lost the value of interactions beyond herself. Then she looks upwards at a sunny sky and she finds that her love for being alone has become a guilty pleasure undermined by the preachers of collective action and conformity.
The brutal truth is that she has stopped crawling trying to belong. Scraped bloody knees make her alluring as she stands tall in a world of wolves. They smell the trail but that is the closest they will ever be. The moment she got up and walked away, she decided to do it alone.
She walks over days and demons until she wouldn’t have to do it on her own.