cult (the end)

June 12, 2017

3.
you counted
the wandering lost souls in the
dark while
i fed upon your tears like it was the only thing that
mattered.
to think that i
would have lived an eternity with your
breath upon my shoulders,

when
the lights still shined on in
nights without
you.

remind yourself that you matter,
love.

sonder?

June 3, 2017

“I have two priorities in this world (or at least in what we see of it)– my established systems of deception and acceptance.

Now, if you ask me which comes after the other, I will tell you to stop embarrassing yourself. You’re only trying to act witty because you think people like this version of you. I will tell you to stop because frankly the chicken or the egg debate gets old.

People trying to assert superiority over one another with petty speech and cheap humor isn’t anything new. I like to tell myself that these people could be shifting this attention to solving the world’s problems– stopping global warming, curing cancer, and whatnot. It’s funny to imagine a world where people actually do useful shit with their lives. Then again, what would happen to the businesses that feed on the misfits of society? Entertainment businesses would lose capital because people would be busy maintaining productivity; the drugs, alcohol, and sex industries would play a lesser role in our capitalist system. If you look at the big picture, people in this world would also think they’ve achieved self sufficiency when really they’re just feeding back into their individual egos.

But, back to me. I have accepted that I will inevitably need to lie to myself for a sane state of mind; with this, necessitates the maximum level of acceptability to my conscious will . I believe I am happy because that is what I have chosen to tell myself. Who gives a fuck if I cut myself every night and drink myself to sleep? I tell myself things to keep myself sane. I tell other people things to keep them sane. We all accept what I say because we all accept the easiest answers– well, at least the majority of us. Some people think they’re above all that and instead choose to confront the hardest truths. That’s kind of stupid. Choosing to make your life harder doesn’t make you any more respectable. We all know somewhere in there, you’re just trying to prove that you deserve better, that because you’ve gone through hell and back, you now deserve all the glories humanity can offer. All of this only adds on to why lying to yourself and accepting those lies is the best approach to living.

I don’t think I’m a coward for thinking this. Wouldn’t you just love to think this way? All you have to do is let yourself.”

Amidst your words,
do you hear how alive the trees are?

prior to

You once told me that love fucked you over.

I was silent for a minute. Then I told you that I’ve always liked listening because it was the only way to silence all the other voices I heard.

You said that if I was smart I wouldn’t want to listen.

I said that I’ve never been very good at being smart.

You barely smiled.

 

I didn’t care if you were broken.

You looked me and told me that’s what they all said.

I’m different.

You told me that’s what they all said too.

I looked into your eyes.

You looked back into mine.

 

I liked the sound of your silence.

You said you liked the sound of my silence.

moments

It was the first summer night that I consciously acknowledged.

I am aware of every detail that I do not need to know.

8:32 pm
7/31
28°
ash rose
converse
76 mph
starbucks (halfway)
night lights
trees
coloured skies

I am focusing on all the wrong things. I can see, but do I really see? I need to see all of you right now, but the only image in my mind is the thought of how I should remember you when this is over. I fake a laugh to look unfazed by everything around me that is coming into sight too fast, too quickly– the recollection of you, of us, of world soon without you, of Insecurity’s eyes staring back into mine. The sky clears. And for a second I let myself think that maybe one day we’ll look back to this moment (and realize what we could have been).

rehab

when the drunken days of tomorrow
are all you need to
fuel the forfeiting of conquered hearts,
return to rest in the eternal comfort of
being.

why do you try so hard
to seek the impending lies
(from the silence of my lips)
that you have chosen to love?

only now do I realize
that we weren’t really taught love;
I was blinded by the
enlightenment I once sought.

overdose

I saw a changing.

I suppose it wasn’t anything that should have come as a surprise. After all, she had been changing, growing more and more distant from me and less and less like herself, all throughout the past year. I did not know why. Then again, I did not bother to find out why. I knew all this time that she would show the results of such change; I guess I didn’t expect it to happen this soon. There were so many signs pointing to this, most of which I picked up on. Every time I noticed, however, I passed it off as an insignificant event, merely as an inconvenience that I kept at the back of my head. This was what I did when I first saw her give him that smile; it was one of those special smiles that she used to give me– those smiles where she would look into my eyes as if we were sharing a secret that no one else knew of. I did the same even when I found the red handkerchief in my drawer. You would think there isn’t anything peculiar with this, but I did not own the handkerchief. It belonged to another man, and I was supposed to be the only one in the house. Though its glaring red presence bothered me, I kept silent. I never thought to do anything about any of this. I did not think to ask her either. It was never because I didn’t know how to, though. I guess I just never cared enough.

With this thought in mind, I merely stared at her when she finally came to me today and said the first words she has spoken in months. As I saw her final changing, I tried to conjure up a reaction or at least feel the slightest emotion to reaffirm the expected humanity that should be within me. When she brandished the divorce papers at me, however, I felt nothing. No regret, no sadness, no relief- nothing. All I could think of was the stack of paper in front of me and how much a gold ring from four years ago would sell on the market today. Her expression reflected the same detachment.

When I looked up at her again, the faint red of the world emerged and I was once again flooded by the conventional color of love. She was transforming too fast, too much, all at once. I saw her flesh melting off, exposing the gleaming white of her bones, leaving behind only a fraction of the woman I once knew. I stepped forward, attempting to save what’s left of her, but I knew it was too late. The bones surrendered to the laws of gravity and dropped in clusters as they spread out, untouched and raw, across the stained floors. After a few moments, the bones came together again and reformed to show her body and her face; I saw this process repeat before me, with the flashing red shining consistently in the background. This was the first time I studied her appearance so closely in the past year; I realized, as I stared, that I had forgotten how she looks. Only now were things coming back to me, the bits and pieces of what I once had.
I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted this red. No, I needed it. The only thing that was keeping me sane and alive was slowly killing me, and I was consciously letting it.

“He was not the man I once knew. The pills, the bright red plastic pills, had changed him. “