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.


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