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MY SICKNESS
Contributed by
Dominick-destruction
on
Wednesday, 1st December 2004 @ 08:38:22 AM in AEST
Topic:
selfstruggles
|
She is brimful of emotion
& it overflows from her moistened mouth before it can reach her eyes;
Those liquid brown two that she can’t cry through….
So instead she does so through a pen.
Write here,
Right now..
Ink tears like irrigation flow & decorate the paper.
She aims to accomplish each & every desire & wish,
She is the determined hunter with lioness’s eyes
Chasing those sweet dreams on a bleeding sunrise.
Yet content here; she exists in her bitter nightmare.
Exercising a tolerance to suffering,
Exercising her body & mind,
Within the crushing grip of agony’s hand the both are fortified.
She does not put up a struggle No matter how much it hurts.
She succumbs willingly…Slave…
…Obey her master…
For these are the things that nourish her,
Hungry for disaster.
To keep bright the flames flickering like reptile tongues inside
In pain she trusts,
In tragedies truth she abides.
She denies herself much,
But will indulge her whims.
She takes power & pleasure in her asceticism.
Ferocious she will put up a bloody battle
& fight for every last breath,
A survival mechanism beats to her left.
She knows that healing is possible,
But chose to fix her self completely differently...
By choosing to not fix her self completely.
But instead she allowed the wounds to fester
& Left her body free to become infected,
Infected with a curative disease
Persistence until she acquired this immunity.
In lust with her sickness,
This lunacy still rages,
A virus of words,
She is the sweet contagious.
Yes, this here is the price she must pay
Is she wishes to stay free & open,
Free to forever receive the eternal teachings of wisdom.
Sweating it out beneath a sun of dripping wax
& shivering in the midst of minds wild forest,
Under a harvest moon,
The watchful eye of Horus.
For this is the debt she owes for all that she has received,
Truly thankful for every gift in her little black heart of creativity.
The evolution
The alchemy,
The Butterfly metamorphous in a thorny chrysalis,
She has grown to love her shell in all it’s flaws & ugliness…
Because her true beauty resigns inside.
Her thinking is a temptation & she hath given into herself,
Into the thoughts most gluttonous.
Indulging her deep ache to know EVERYTHING.
She knows the truth,
She knows that you lied.
She knows the salty taste of pure despise.
She knows how to stay aloft on shattered wings,
She knows every note in the song the sirens Sin.
She knows how to rebuild because she knows how to break,
She knows how to give even more for how much she takes.
She consumes so much that her gut instinct vomits,
From a painfully full mind,
Not her convulsing stomach.
She is still learning..
Puzzling herself; She is an enigma.
A Single puzzle piece that won’t fit the whole picture.
Instead of using the clues to solve the mystery
She spends her time trying to solve the clues…
An analytic process to appease the muse.
She is an insane trial for her all tribulations.
Misplaced, her sanity received a breakdown in communication.
But she feels no need for its trivial pursuit.
She Possesses an ardent life
& it was the very lifestyle that possessed her.
Caught up in present & old lessons learnt,
Her history has taking a revolutionary turn.
She holds on to her pasts hand & embraces her future.
She’s self created
& won’t be told whut she should be…
How she should feel,
Or how to act,
Whut to speak,
Whut to think..
She will not swallow this conformity spiked drink.
She wants to be able to think for herself…
Not share the same brain waves as everyone else..
She will rise to outlast their weak decaying minds.
& in this her sickness
She will make no mistake,
For she's been giving these opportunitys
& I shall not hesitate to take…
(c) Dominick Destruction 03/11/04
Copyright ©
Dominick-destruction
... [
2004-12-01 08:38:22]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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