Retrograde Dissociation

I needed solid ground to pronounce mine a sinking sand

What's amusing and frightening at the same time is the fact that all of us have the capacity and chances to go and wreck our smoothly sailing lives. It's all in our hands.

I *will not honour my ugly tendencies as devotion as they've not served me nor you. Although they've set the bar high for your expectations of my self sacrifice, all they've done for me is scrape bits of my soul for a tribute.

I will not bestow the highest praise and the purest form of feeling as "love" to the type of twisted attachment we created out of an even twisted moments and words. Yet it's strange that even today you rather call it love than call it what it is, a mistake.

I will not have the privilege of annulling the ties we took years to tighten. They've took on the form of spirit vines that've cased my heart closely as my ribs. I suppose there's one thing I can do in these moments of utter clarity which is to mindfully acknowledge the truth. Love wasn't present amongst us in those times we thought we were together and honestly, neither were you.*

*Tell me it's like refining gold and I'll walk through fire, I'll sift myself through a funnel to find me.

But there's a wad of so many people stacked up and down my soul I don't know where to search and where to look for. I don't know where I might be.*

*Mornings scream, "You have a ton of work to do brace yourself" and afternoons judge, "you're supposed to be knees in work".

The night is but a drop of relief in the day but it just serves as reminder of all that I didn't accomplish, all that awaits me the day after.

That's why I yearn to sit by the stone that stands half in and half out of the shade of the mango tree behind the block.

I want to sit in the sun until my skin has had enough heat and I inch backwards into the shade. I want to watch the afternoon go by without a care in my mind.*

I wish I had even the tiniest bit of doubt for the most part that I'm with you cause the extent of trust is making me tipsy. I want to feel the ground beneath my feet, give me reasons so I won't stay afloat.

*"There is with me a book that is all you from binding to words from the ink to its soul. It's all you."

"There lies in my heart a throne set just for you. It's just like Cinderella's slipper, no other woman is fit to assume the place."

And I wonder if the throne exists on the cloud, I wonder if the book was stolen by a monster than think for a second that it could all be a lie.*

*"I wish you'd flow on the parchment", implored she as the words danced in the air.

"To have you now and again, to know you lie upon the parchment as your earth and the ink your flesh gives me a sort of assurance of your company" she continued as they followed the trail from her mind to the air, fizzing and sparking in gorgeous colors.

"I wish you'd be right where I would find you...*

I ask you to let me go though no rope holds me by the waist,
Nothing ties me to you,
But I suppose the only way you can let me go,
Is if you didn't exist.

*They'll remain till we perish or they perish and we follow.

The crickets sound, just miles ahead where blood is spilled. The trees will rustle as the season dictates though man interprets the wind as he wishes.

The tanks will pass, pebbles and soil will rise off the earth but they'll settle back unlike the souls that fall, unlike man as he hits the ground.

Birds of blue and yellow will flee the scene of man's foolish display of power and as the land quitnes down with forts of bodies lying limp, birds will descend to devour what's left.

As we slowly cloak ourselves in smoke, as the earth spits us out and none remains to resurrect the atrocities of man-kind once more, the vines will spread their hands and reclaim the world back to its order.

An order of peace and chaos beautifully curated.*