February 28th, Year of the Corpse

My long-term romance with blank walls. They listen and do not repeat. A thousand stories told to them, when it felt unsafe to confide in a self-proclaimed friend. Those that betray themselves will come to betray me, you, their mother and father. There is no one who will not betray themselves.

Drifting realities. Many options and perspectives offered. Choose well and choose quickly. All paths must be followed to their end. Develop your skills and perfect your aim. Let no battle become a war.

I am in a self-created cocoon, sewing wings together, after they have refused to grow on their own.

I am a gothic edifice, with pronounced grotesqueness. Bizarre and unmoving, standing defiantly against strong winds.

I am a heavy sinner, doused in holy water, pleading for absolution by an arthritic God. A woman afraid of eternal punishment for using a minor ‘g,’ that seems more fitting.

Cold concrete against my skin, Ruey sits next to me, as we watch the moon. It is pregnant with incandescent brilliancy. We are two hopeful criminals, chasing every secret that time and life has to offer. The night speaks, and we listen attentively.

The tears have stopped flowing, after a reiki healing session. Two pairs of hands on my body, offering me a nurturing touch was never meant to feel traumatic, but it did. It seems that I do not accept love so easily.

February 28th, Year of the Corpse

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