неделя, септември 25, 2011

Loved, Abused, Stripped, Drunk and his baby

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Inwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats

This is one of my favourite poems. When I read it I tend to remember one of my first encounters with him. Surely it evokes a nice, warm, fuzzy feeling inside me. How emotional from my side, don't you think? So I left my soul stripped before his feet. Hoping like never again. Hurt makes me want more of the same mind control. Abuse my feelings so It will be easier later on. I am addicted to the sweet pain that stops the disturbing inner voices from raping my soul. The self-destructing mode is on. Fast and going strong.

Shall I be the one who is locked down in your heart. Sadly, I don't believe it any more. Everybody has his ghosts. One of mine is a happy daddy now, another is still the same kid as then. But the difference between us is that my ghosts are truly dead now.

Today I will get drunk. For the first time in years. Possibly a stupid decision but from my perspective as I see it, this is the only way to save my sanity. As I think about my past and re-listen to my songs, re-reading loving poems and in total feeling crap. I can't stop thinking, can't stop imaging the vivid dreams of bites and kissing, and touching... So here it goes... three bottles and a half of apple wine. Hello, headache next morning. Hello, desirable numbness now.Who knows may be if I kill enough brain cells all will stop at once.

Wallow in self pity. This is something I know perfectly how to do. Later on I will go to him, strip my clothes before his knowing eyes, I will endure the shots and poses. I will achieve the perfect desirable image, the one carbon copy of my lust and desire. Because this is what I am.


Like an Alice in Wonderland

Long time passes by my soul unnoticed. I grow up in size and get smaller from the inside. My soul curls around the Wonderland I invented for second time and it hurts. Just to remind me how stupid I was to hope. And obviously I still am while risking my self-esteem and  my want, and lust, my dreams and my innocence, my body, my blood, my future for something self invented, egoistic and flawed.

I am blinded. Because I know everything. Every single word around me makes me doubt and my trust is long gone from me. I am empty shell as I should be. A carrier, a body, lifeless cells and mass for a brain that tick-tаcks and a frozen heart. It is interesting to see how the light in my eyes really dies in a split second revolving around only one question "Why again?". May be I am really destined to greater goods and deeds but that doesn't excuse the existence of  my agony right now. Should I see this as a thought of a Wiser Being that prepares me for them? Or it is only the sad irony of life and that bitch named "love"? 

Surely I am mad.

Now I do not know what to do. Is it worth it? To fight for a water mirage with a perfect illusion? Is the unachievable so tempting... who am I to judge after all said and done. I am not so very perfect like everybody else, shall I stop believing in people's truth. Or just grab my coat and stray into the cold night to wander until I find my peace?

In another time and universe, I was thinking I was like Alice in Wonderland. Happily unaware of the coldness, a bitter-sweet childish play... Now I know: the Mad Hatter is more like me than anybody else in that story. Sad but true.

Photo: HERE