who are you?
who... the fuck... are you?
and when did this happen?
altars, monuments, anywhere i can make them, out of anything at hand. i seek your favor.
i hear it almost. i look up as if in expectation, but this is no exhortation to monotheistic gods, moral gods, judgmental gods, for forgiveness, for mercy, no.
there is something almost antagonistic here, i sometimes find myself calling it/them (genderless, indeterminate individualities) down, to fight. fight me. kill me. make me die WELL, like a man, if i was struck down by a god, then so be it, twould be my PRIVILEGE. but they do not descend to my depths, only their rain and snow, it touches me, numbs me, almost makes me feel better.
did i pray for money? for a lever of power? to be able to exert some control over this world, to move myself away, home? i have never heard of such a place, this is alien to me. the dollar bill remains upon the log, where it will stay until blown away, or until it rots (does money rot with moisture?) fuck. is that really what i wanted?
elder gods, i do not ask for strength and power, for that must be earned. i ask for a CHANCE. you heed me, and you know. a chance to die like a man, with honor, surrounded by those with honor, what else can i possibly want? what other life and death can i ever desire? to end, to no longer seek, in the name of something or someone that stirs my heart, makes me believe in something greater. i ask... for you to BE HERE. my heart, what else do you want?
but i hear you. i am incompetent, i am weak, i am not disputing this. but my HEART, my fucking heart... weakness i see. lack of discipline. chinks in the armor. endless ugliness. shame. guilt. lingering torment. ugly things. i am ugly in your eyes. i am not the proud warrior/philosopher/artist/tyrant you seek. i have long since abandoned those drug addled illusions, for i am not great enough. i am just a piece of shit dishwasher, what would you want with me?
but i have a life to give. and you mock me, what is this worth? you know life is cheap. i would sell mine dearly, in your name, for your strength, to feel whole again, and to end.
my heart is yours.
hear me. forgive my weakness, forgive me for lingering here, soiling this world with my wretchedness, it is a pure cowardice that lingers on in hope, that things will change. i am truly sorry. i know i have the money to just blow it all away, paint the woods with my cerebral matter, why linger you ask? because i can still serve you. there is still one great fight left in this dog, a chance, a chance to mean something.
a chance.
do not spare me, or save me, i am already spent.
but my heart is yours.
and when did this happen?
altars, monuments, anywhere i can make them, out of anything at hand. i seek your favor.
i hear it almost. i look up as if in expectation, but this is no exhortation to monotheistic gods, moral gods, judgmental gods, for forgiveness, for mercy, no.
there is something almost antagonistic here, i sometimes find myself calling it/them (genderless, indeterminate individualities) down, to fight. fight me. kill me. make me die WELL, like a man, if i was struck down by a god, then so be it, twould be my PRIVILEGE. but they do not descend to my depths, only their rain and snow, it touches me, numbs me, almost makes me feel better.
did i pray for money? for a lever of power? to be able to exert some control over this world, to move myself away, home? i have never heard of such a place, this is alien to me. the dollar bill remains upon the log, where it will stay until blown away, or until it rots (does money rot with moisture?) fuck. is that really what i wanted?
elder gods, i do not ask for strength and power, for that must be earned. i ask for a CHANCE. you heed me, and you know. a chance to die like a man, with honor, surrounded by those with honor, what else can i possibly want? what other life and death can i ever desire? to end, to no longer seek, in the name of something or someone that stirs my heart, makes me believe in something greater. i ask... for you to BE HERE. my heart, what else do you want?
but i hear you. i am incompetent, i am weak, i am not disputing this. but my HEART, my fucking heart... weakness i see. lack of discipline. chinks in the armor. endless ugliness. shame. guilt. lingering torment. ugly things. i am ugly in your eyes. i am not the proud warrior/philosopher/artist/tyrant you seek. i have long since abandoned those drug addled illusions, for i am not great enough. i am just a piece of shit dishwasher, what would you want with me?
but i have a life to give. and you mock me, what is this worth? you know life is cheap. i would sell mine dearly, in your name, for your strength, to feel whole again, and to end.
my heart is yours.
hear me. forgive my weakness, forgive me for lingering here, soiling this world with my wretchedness, it is a pure cowardice that lingers on in hope, that things will change. i am truly sorry. i know i have the money to just blow it all away, paint the woods with my cerebral matter, why linger you ask? because i can still serve you. there is still one great fight left in this dog, a chance, a chance to mean something.
a chance.
do not spare me, or save me, i am already spent.
but my heart is yours.