February 18th, 2013

If you whisper your confessions, much will be misinterpreted. The desire to cause injury to anyone specific, or the world in general, isn’t with me anymore. I understand I was owed nothing, not even by those that were careless with me. I fashion apologies on anyone’s behalf, and I swallow, I digest. That is all one can do, should do. Stop all conversation with any who twist their words. Run toward a multi-colored puddle of rainwater and oil. Call it a rainbow. Move on with your life.

Oh, loneliness, how your wails crash against my sternum. You are a screaming infant with no mother. I will not claim you. I will not raise you. I neglect your needs, and still you exist.

I am still aggrieved by the cruelty of sister’s betrayal. I want it so much not to matter. A sexual act doesn’t have to carry any importance. It is the satiation of desire. The need to feel adored, if but for a night. Nothing more, I say and try to believe. Except, I was never capable of separating the body from the mind, and certainly not from the ailing spirit. The restless make so many mistakes, and never once think to correct them.

February 18th, 2013

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