Butterfly
The God-King flies for Chicago tomorrow morning.
In celebration of my first night of aloneness, we're supposed to go to Open Mic night at the Art House tomorrow.
I am torn.
I know myself well enough to know I won't be able to resist the siren's call. I know it's going to get to me; the lights, the words, the voices. If I don't read, I will regret it.
But I just looked through my computer files, my "portfolio" and it feels like none of it is worth the bother. Mind you, I'm not saying none of it's good, it's just that none of it feels right. I'm not even sure most of it is mine any more.
It's like I'm poised on the verge of metamorphosis. I wish I could say that it is a good feeling, but really it's nerve-wracking. I mean, metamorphosis is a wonder of nature. The caterpillar becomes a butterfly by virtue of the butterfly blueprints encoded in it's butterfly cells.
So life is just peachy for the caterpillar. While he's rolled up in his cocoon he's happy with his little butterfly dreams.
Me? I dream of abandonment. I dream of demons. I dream of suffocation.
So what the hell am I supposed to be?
I suppose only time will tell.
In celebration of my first night of aloneness, we're supposed to go to Open Mic night at the Art House tomorrow.
I am torn.
I know myself well enough to know I won't be able to resist the siren's call. I know it's going to get to me; the lights, the words, the voices. If I don't read, I will regret it.
But I just looked through my computer files, my "portfolio" and it feels like none of it is worth the bother. Mind you, I'm not saying none of it's good, it's just that none of it feels right. I'm not even sure most of it is mine any more.
It's like I'm poised on the verge of metamorphosis. I wish I could say that it is a good feeling, but really it's nerve-wracking. I mean, metamorphosis is a wonder of nature. The caterpillar becomes a butterfly by virtue of the butterfly blueprints encoded in it's butterfly cells.
So life is just peachy for the caterpillar. While he's rolled up in his cocoon he's happy with his little butterfly dreams.
Me? I dream of abandonment. I dream of demons. I dream of suffocation.
So what the hell am I supposed to be?
I suppose only time will tell.