There is a forgetfulness about me
which makes me feel nervous
Or is it slightly unnerving?
Problem is I can’t remember which it is or if this is just one more bout or spell to add to the list and even if I could put the pieces together I truly believe I wouldn’t want to because each person I become is someone I willingly wish to forget.
As if a genie is all anyone has ever wanted in life.
Is that really all it was?
Just a man with a belt and a gaping hole where darkness crept in and made itself at home and infested every cell until he was nothing but a sack of skin encasing strangely shaped malignancies
where organs once were.
How was I supposed to know this is what it means to be free?
A terror of loss.
A deafening panic of too much happiness and love because loss always comes after because loss always comes after because loss always comes after.
And to admit that I am so afraid would almost make me seem god-fearing
but I’m on the water now.
It’s as though every deity upon inception loomed over the world and pleaded
“if I could make you feel just one thing
it would be the fear of letting me go”
such desperation in their voices it must have sounded like the waves do
when they crash
but they can’t take that from me
What does it mean when I cannot anticipate my own will
When my every action is nothing but a haphazard response to yet another, another, another
yet I still and forever will be unable to shake this growling need in the pit of who I am
the need amputate fragments of myself and gift-wrap them for the earth now and until its end
This is what creation is
This is who my god is
This is why I am this way and this is why I will never be with you
I am consumed.
How cruel is it that I should have all of this within me
only to be mutilated by the written word.
I’ve now finally understood the ache of wanting something
other than simply wanting