Another one of my strange drafts found in my Gmail. This must have been after a break-up. Something that must have devastated me enough to write this. And yet, again, I feel I am reliving my life as I read this. I can write that this is exactly how I feel right now. Just right now. Even though it has been nearly 10 years since I wrote this, perhaps. Love is a word too frequently used and I feel that I have been mocked with its usage.
Plunged into chaos, I burn burn burn like the flame of a candle that touched the sun and broke into tears. I would be the fire that melted the sea. I would be the opposite of the world, the bottom of heaven, because I am. I can’t cast my eye into the sea and call it happiness. But I can throw my mind to the heavens and call it bliss.
If things were to change, I wouldn’t change because I am the change. If life moves a finger without my permission, I would not bear her body with me. Her guilt will not consume my self. In the midst of madness if I spot the figures of Death, would I cast him away? Would I embrace him? Or mock his entrance to a chamber not his? If I can breathe in the fragrance of pain and cast out the thorns of sorrow, will grief survive?
If we must love, it must not be in vain. For mock those who claim that love is all. For it is not. It is the breath of an arrow, the kiss of blood, the hunger of a bullet. It is the sweet lullabies of a dead baby. It is not the throne on which I sit but the cross to bear. Uplifting in its presence only in the absence of its only sister – hate.
