I chase my demons on a seven-year string.
There have truths I have tried to tell - to confess - over and again, to those who would hear me. But each time, I was interrupted and told how my thoughts end.
The air churned and changed as I relaxed the breaths of unmuttered confessions.
Terrifying truths I was dying to tell went too long unspoken.
I shattered the stillness, taught myself to act. Some things I've fixed, and others, broken.
Now that I've finally gathered the breath to speak again, my world is already changed. The truths that I've ached to tell feel unreal and false passing my lips.
I think so deeply that all becomes imagination, and I wonder, who am I? Am I this invented, interpretted dream, so distant from who I thought I'd be? Am I still the 12 year old girl I once knew, aching uncontrollably and deeply, never understanding why?
I find my two selves, and we face eachother, rubbing at the time between us, as if we can push it away like fog from a mirror. We draw near to each other, so close, that with a needle and thread we could bind our differences to eachother, sew our lives into an elegant, coherent conclusion. Face to face. Breast to breast. Vein to vein.
There have truths I have tried to tell - to confess - over and again, to those who would hear me. But each time, I was interrupted and told how my thoughts end.
The air churned and changed as I relaxed the breaths of unmuttered confessions.
Terrifying truths I was dying to tell went too long unspoken.
I shattered the stillness, taught myself to act. Some things I've fixed, and others, broken.
Now that I've finally gathered the breath to speak again, my world is already changed. The truths that I've ached to tell feel unreal and false passing my lips.
I think so deeply that all becomes imagination, and I wonder, who am I? Am I this invented, interpretted dream, so distant from who I thought I'd be? Am I still the 12 year old girl I once knew, aching uncontrollably and deeply, never understanding why?
I find my two selves, and we face eachother, rubbing at the time between us, as if we can push it away like fog from a mirror. We draw near to each other, so close, that with a needle and thread we could bind our differences to eachother, sew our lives into an elegant, coherent conclusion. Face to face. Breast to breast. Vein to vein.
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infinity:
i sometimes wonder about life, from those random moments when i think that i'm in the matrix to other times where i question how much i have changed, if i have changed really at all. my not so good memory does not help though, since it's hard for me to remember much of anything that has happened to me, even from stuff a few months ago.
salome:
At least you have only two selves -- the ghosts of my former selves occasionally possess my body, the skins I have shed still lie hidden under the bed.