Jun. 22nd, 2009

cosette_valjean: (Default)
I stand alone and watch the ash settle
Staring blankly at the gray shadows once my life.
It happened again.
Three times now.
I watched my heart rumble and explode with lava
That evaporated every thread of connection.
The burns sear my skin raw and tender.
I know now how long it takes
Until they become angry scars
That frown at me in quiet hours:
Two years, maybe three.
I'm practiced in this area of pain,
Perhaps it will only be one.

Self-exile for the sake of sanity.
My weary heart and my overly clever brain
Have devised a scheme to create hope.
My mind which builds entire mythologies
While I lie resting unsuspecting
The power it holds over my life
Adeptly rescues my moping heart by
Merely focusing on a producer of beauty.
Focus is too tame a word;
Death grip is more accurate.

Successfully indoctrinated by western media
My brain sees the romantic union of two souls
As the ultimate form of beauty.
It is the reason to keep breathing
The reason to endure illness, poverty, lies, violence,
The incessant ugliness of human behavior
Just for the hope of it.
No matter how my conscious self sneers
I know this hopeful expectation lies in my depths.

Oh, my clever clever brain,
You choose only men that do not remotely want me.
That way you can never be disappointed
By the lack of appropriate bliss and beauty.
What ifs and maybes prevail over all.
Oh, the infinite power of "if."

Please, oh, please stop saving me, brain.
I'll do just fine drinking the small joys.
Loving prosaically, creating quietly.
Happiness is a flitting rainbow.
It is impossible for it to stay very long.
Please stop trying to make it last forever.
Happiness comes and goes
With the rain and with the sun.

Such on obliging mind, have I.
I ask for magic and it provides it.
I ask for hope and it procures it.
Now I ask for clarity, will this also come easily?
I am skilled at self-deception; truth comes harder.
The cost of living with genie brain is far too high.
Will clarity even make a difference?
Can it even touch such a remote cycle of emotions?

Is my passive observer doomed
To watch as yet again as my heart explodes
Into obsessive burning passion
Over yet another object of beauty, poor soul,
Until I am forced yet again
To pack myself away in order not to annoy
And in order to regain myself?

At least the life that is lost
Was more my ex-lover's than mine.
I made my world around him.
All my efforts were to please him
And those he cared about
Some of whom I too cared for.
But the ego stroking benefits
Were not enough for me to
Even think twice about what I must do.
The only way to calm my bubbling mind
Is to completely cut out the stimulus.

There are a few strands left of the old life.
They will likely be with me for some time,
Possibly until I leave this world.
I'm thankful for that at least.
Love and care amidst the chaos.
Now to rebuild a life that is truly my own.
And make sure my volcano erupts more quietly next time.
So I don't have to leave this new world behind too.


cosette_valjean: (Default)

August 2009

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