Forbidden Fruit

Suspended

Disbelief and distrust weave together enmeshed, crushed together like some hastily prepared, possibly ill-conceived poultice. Mortar and pestle doth grind the bones; the only ingredients left for the meal. A poor substitute for victuals, but sustenance the same; the least of these is what I am accustomed to remain.

Over-indulging thoughts on origins and destinations, bewildered by the vicissitudes of fate, following every thread that catches my eye, I peer at the tapestry and wonder who the fuck am I.

But what can I see from an ants’ perspective when the tapestry was made to be viewed from on high, not through the lens of I, too close, too nigh.

So higher I soar, though as I elevate so does my fear, because I no longer know the difference between there and here. Distrust of all has followed me ever onward, most of all I distrust my self.

Stupid? Careless? Lazy?

These words I fear, though they are also very dear. Attached to my pain I know not how to extricate the pleasure from the pain for they are one and the same. Until I learn that I am responsible only to do my best, to correct mistakes is better than expecting perfection. Knowing what you did wrong only matters insofar as you move on.

There has never been onward, there was only here; mired in malice, confusion and fear. I scream in the silence, unable to shed even a tear, as my reality is rent and I tremble on the edge of madness. For push and pull, I teeter and totter, I know the game, I know the slaughter.

Until I release no peace will I find, there is nothing inside of my mind. These are all specters, shapes and sounds, Memories of a forgotten shroud. Death and rebirth, rebirth and death, The Cosmic Dance I fear more than all.

Destination unknown is a troublesome thing, for after all of the unknown do we perpetually sing. Knowing not from whence I came, nor to what I shall return, I simply sit and observes the turns. As the world whirls on, so must I.

Perhaps the only thing god doesn’t know, is how to die