blood-of-sin-and-dust-of-damned

[blood-of-sin-and-dust-of-damned]

Of Animals and Symbolism

My father is a lion; bold and brazen, demanding respect wherever he goes.

My mother: a mouse; impressionable and unknowing, she knows not her own evil.

And of I?

I am lost. I know not the unforgiving personality of a predator, nor the ways of the quick prey.

I am prey of prey and martyr of predator. A lifeline to the tragic and a beacon to the desperate.

A child to calamity and sibling to war, I have naught an animal of reference, only comforts and beliefs of others:

An owl, to my family; knowledgeable, watching, distant.

A wolf, to friends; loyal, protective, empowering.

As well a large cat, to few; lonesome, strong, observant.

But to me?

I am a worn toy, a rusted lock. I speak of life, but not my own. I live naught for myself but for others. My form speaks of wars not fought, but still experienced fully. Of arguments muted by closet doors, of arguments so stretched thin it is left ignored. It speaks freely of rigid conversations and forced kind words, with no more love than a landmine.

I am not me, I am an animal incomprehensive to humans. I am naught but what is perceived. I am me.

[blood-of-sin-and-dust-of-damned]

My Parent's Coffee Maker

It whispers to me,

The not-so-great tales of adulthood.

It tells of early mornings, of rushing and leisure.

It tells me of late nights, of long yawns and quick work.

As it speaks, it fills my nose to the brim,

With its bitter breath.

It smells of sunrises, of dewy grass and crisp breezes.

It smells of sunsets, of bright nights and humid air.

It's words fill every cup its given,

But it remains unheard.

It's hissing turns to grumbling, then silence,

As it awaits the next deaf cup.

[blood-of-sin-and-dust-of-damned]

You could see his jaw grit and set to the side, just like his father's does when he is angry. His chest heaved and puffed but he only took shallow breaths, his eyes supposedly fixated to the ground but his vision coated in a heavy haze. The jaw slowly set to the other side, gritting down stronger until his teeth locked together. With this his upper body rose, taking him to his full height- just shy of 6 feet- followed by his head and his eyes, now locked cold and steel on the other before him. His eyes were set just a hair past wide and his face was calm, not matching the storm that set at the center. The grit in his teeth shifted again, settling for clenching down at the front before his face pulled towards itself into a shallow grimace that spelled 'i dare you to continue' in bright ink- but was somehow still overlooked by the man infront, all favor going to the reflective flecks of tears threatening to spill. All in favor of calling him words akin to weak because of it. He settled back again, this time centering his balance and angling his shoulders as the grimace turned into a snarl- his whole position akin to a prowling cat- that bared his sharper canines.

You knew then that he was tired of running.

You knew this wouldn't be pretty.

Oh, how fun.

[blood-of-sin-and-dust-of-damned]

Dysphoric World

“The hell within me scorches and laughs as I commit many a sin. I am but a time bomb with no knowledge of time, as such a martyr to death. I know not why I exist, nor the purpose until my time is up.”

The only difference between me and that analogy is that the bomb is innocent. It never lit itself, but as for me, I light my own fuse. I wrap my own chains, set myself in a prison of my own making. And as soon as the bomb explodes, the chains unravel, the doors are found unlocked;

That is when my reign over my mind ends.

That is when fact and fiction get jumbled, where emotions run loose like a new fawn, where everything becomes one and one thing equals none. That is when calamity and clarity collide and show their true face. Siblings in a maskless dance, never one without the other. As if to mock my inability to distinguish one from the other as they weave their melody around me, tightening strings and sharp chords aimed at me as a conductor plays me as a marionette amongst the actors of tragedy. I am but a vessel for those cruel twins, they twist my life and torture me as they daintily cut the ties I make, as they change the lighting on the audience of my peers; revealing their true forms to me as they gather to feast on my heart. I grow restless and trustless as the revel in my pain.

I am in pain. Life gave naught but pain to me like a generous gift. But who am I to question? The siblings gave me the foresight upon wrongful souls, a gift that will haunt me to my grave. In a world where peace and trust are naught; in a world where evil is nigh; in a world where I cannot co-exist but I have to anyhow? innocence and joy are conspicuous and fleeting, as corruption and distaste are permanent and and welcomed.

#Writing #creatve #Dysphoric World #self hate cw #self hate tw #the world as i see it