you're not here
tonight, the world came dangerously close to spitting me out once again. so far, it has happened twice -- once as a child, with my head sunk in Marianne's grave and my legs flailing out toward the stars in musky tents, and now, with my sunglasses hazed, looking not behind, but forward to what was once stonehenge -- knowing that even if it were once that i could climb higher than everyone else and look down on to their heads, i could still very well be capable of doing it today. would i still be called back to the ground?
and each time i arise new as a blue sun, soaked to the bone, my eyes covered in clouds of cataracts. it's really a strange, alienating feeling to realise this entire time that everyone around you was tiptoeing around you, with a jerk and a twist at every slightest sight of your distaste and apprehension. they knew, someday that you would eventually go off and springs would shoot out of your head until you flew up in a fury, but it couldn't come any later. in itself, things end up a lot easier when you are raised around mental illness -- when it swims in your blood, jutting out in thick red clouds that pass by as the time lapse of days. this is the blood flood: the time lapse: the circulation. it's a stream, it's a thought, it's a pulse. for a split second, it shot down with a sharp bolt, splitting me in two as a tree. my leaves tinged, my eyes fizzled, my sockets rolled until i was cross-eyed and backward; the voice of nothing cracking of the echoes. this was truly my madness -- the madness that was placed out for me.
but since this time i have caught the seed of it in my hands. i held her so close, and she said "this is what you truly are -- and if it's for the best, let it go."
and i did.
in this case, i was truly led by hand out be to the beguiled anemic royalty.
and each time i arise new as a blue sun, soaked to the bone, my eyes covered in clouds of cataracts. it's really a strange, alienating feeling to realise this entire time that everyone around you was tiptoeing around you, with a jerk and a twist at every slightest sight of your distaste and apprehension. they knew, someday that you would eventually go off and springs would shoot out of your head until you flew up in a fury, but it couldn't come any later. in itself, things end up a lot easier when you are raised around mental illness -- when it swims in your blood, jutting out in thick red clouds that pass by as the time lapse of days. this is the blood flood: the time lapse: the circulation. it's a stream, it's a thought, it's a pulse. for a split second, it shot down with a sharp bolt, splitting me in two as a tree. my leaves tinged, my eyes fizzled, my sockets rolled until i was cross-eyed and backward; the voice of nothing cracking of the echoes. this was truly my madness -- the madness that was placed out for me.
but since this time i have caught the seed of it in my hands. i held her so close, and she said "this is what you truly are -- and if it's for the best, let it go."
and i did.
in this case, i was truly led by hand out be to the beguiled anemic royalty.