A hundred thousand times I have asked myself the same questions since the dawn of the current age

The age of identity

The age of truth

Life

Dignified justification to walk the path

The descent into darkness

Onward, descending to figure out the answer to the question “why?”

Why am I here

Why am I suffering when I see her of the age before

Falling to her knees

A bleeding angel

A weeping soul

A shattered memory

And the darker the path goes,

The farther I tried to transcend, find clarity, and evade a thing I called madness

This was the truth

A poor ending

A piss poorer man to reveal it

 

I began to remember the past, recently.

 

Before the break in where my soul met a closer look at a face I now wish I had just forgotten

Four years since a fall

Four years in fear

Four years looking for something I missed so dearly that my tears blurred them away from my vision

And four years wearing the mask that should have been my face all along

 

Damage was done to another

A darkness came towards me and struck a chord I never knew the existence of

A chord of fear

A fear to make me resolved

To hide inside myself over a replica wearing a mask that could have just been me

 

The question no longer becomes a question of fear but a question of pride

Where and

When

Do I care about all of you?

 

Ironically, you would say the same in the right context

 

 

 

Where and when do you care about the things you’re told

The looks you ought to have

The way you to walk

Talk to people, abusing them

Reacting to things, hollowing yourself

Feeling good with the drugs and the money you save by

Stopping the drugs that make you high

Getting off on things that are legal

 

From sincerity to sexual deviancy

 

And soon you begin to realize that your mind is stuck in the ruts

Unable to realize

Like me

What the point of it all is?

…

Take the other side of the spectrum

 

Where and when do you care about the things you’re told

The grades you ought to have

To keep

To get to the college of everyone’s dream

To get in and find yourself in a rut

To get out and find a debt

A debt that hinders you from world building

A slave to the things you forgot were not that important:

-the score

-the game

-the grade

-the college

-the rank

-the look you got from everyone else which makes me wonder,

 

Yet again

Where and when do you care about the things you’re told

Until you find out that you hurt the ones you loved

Made the scar that can’t be undone

Pulled the knife from the wound that is bleeding

Now the word that you cant take back

Now the relation you cannot repair

Now the “you” you want to be is a monster

And they’re running you out of town

Take the other side of the spectrum

When your heart has reached the point

And is open to the call

And is open to the hate

The envy

The greed

The rage

The lust

The pounding and pounding because

They know

 

There are so few places that you can hide

That you can call yourself away towards to be safe

To cry

And weep And melt into the sadness that is somehow unacceptable

And yet all-the-more necessary as the days go by

You throb with your tears

Some people come running

And you hear wolves behind them

 

You hear the howling in the dark

The darkness of your heart

The darkness in the distance-

the wolves are coming

Because the less you care

The more you start to grow the fur

Block the world

Take the weirdness

Oddities

Awkwardness

And run

But that was not me of the past

 

The past stood in equilibrium that is unreachable

Because it’s weak and invites into me a madness that keeps ringing

Like a wave of tears that wants me to sink into the floor and be nothing anymore

Like a hangman’s noose that grips my neck like a lover

Like death

But attractive death nonetheless because

I am

- Indeed -

Something is wrong with me.

 

I was told once to be the soul of an ancient one

It might be tainted now

There’s no purity anymore

The filth so black that it blocks

The blocks so wide that they cloud me

The madness so deep that it feeds my sense of identity

 

And soon I’m seeing the cold again

The dragon settling into the cave

The wolf wandering into the dark

The dogs dying before their masters

The horses trying to shut the barn

 

It’s nothing more than hopeless futures

I ponder the point for four years as well

….

So I ask myself again, my reason for being here

From what I have seen

From what I become

To perverted agony

And Sadomasochistic

Urges to hunger like the Helmsman, the Knight of Winter

To lust like a conqueror

And be conquered at the same time

To be dichotomy

And reform into a paradox

 

And then

 

And then what’s left?

 

Isn’t that the point?

 

We live

We die

And we make a mess while we’re at it

As we suffer

 

 

 

Or

We find a place to die

Exact place

Perfect placement

Perfect achievement

100%

Kick the bucket list

Stop the press

And sit in the throne as a skeleton

Dying in the metaphysical wealth

The friends

The companions

That love that couldn’t be any more perfect

Because you know she doesn’t care about the demons resting in your eyes

 

But rather loves you because that is what it should be…

 

It ought to be love

It ought to be the moment where you brush the happiness that was so distant in the past that you should          be content to die

That, or find a way to build it into permanency

And I tried that for a few years

 

It was ok

 

But probably not as good as the brush

The moment where the smiles seem endless

And the cold flew away into a beautiful spring

Where cherry blossoms could touch your shoulders

 

It’s out there,

I swear it

If you’re lucky

And can bear it

It’s there, it’s there, and it’s no where

And they won’t point because they don’t

And I wander off again

 

Wander into the sunset

Wander where the wolf will tread

Alone

Back to the sunset

Facing the world

Facing eternum

And Les Fleurs du mal

 

But before I go

Before I face destiny again

With a masochistic bravery

And an iron sword

 

I have advice to you,

The ones still left to suffer

The ones still aching to die

The ones who don’t do sadness

I recommend

 

Suggest that you give it a raincheck…

 

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And where no street shall begin

A place where the brush of happiness lasts

A place the future meets the past

A place beyond the smaller sea

A place for you,

 

And definitely for me

 

The End