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sparkesink · 4 years

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Chapter 8:

Figuring All The Shit Out: Part 2

I Wish So Dearly,

For Soft Simplicity.

I Am Not Sure I Can Tolerate This Cursed Intellectual Complexity.

Breaking,

Consistently.

Beauty And Intellect Are Doomed Things.

Mastered By Those With The Deepest Demons.

Constant,

Contemplation.

Alone Within A Piece Of Paper:

Seeking, Begging, Pleading…

Someone, Anyone, Please Comfort Me.

Screaming For Unconditional Affection,

Left Cold, Silence, Tears Within A Grey Tee.

Why Won’t He Recognize Me?

Why Can’t He See?

When My Fire Dims At Such Dangerous Light,

When Contemplation Is To Vigorous To Fight.

Like, I Don’t Exist In Much More Than A Pawn In His Game,

Just A Stupid, Foolish Woman, Given Love An Undesirable Fame.

Two, Three, Four In The Morn,

Passed Out On The Bathroom Floor.

Who Cares If Your Breaking,

He Only Desires More.

I’m A Monster,

Psychotic,

A Fucking Lunatic.

Such A Selfish Bitch,

Neediness,

(Her Favorite Niche.)

How Dare She Ruin My Good Time?

She Cannot Even Communicate Without Rhyme.

Who Gives A Fuck If She Happens To Leave?

Why Would Anyone Donate Even Three Seconds To Grieve?

A Love So Deep,

Forgiveness,

(I’m Such A Fucking Creep.)

Insanity: A Crazy Thing,

Inventing Situations,

A Child’s Attention, Crazed To Cling.

His Passion Flows As Heroine Through My Veins.

So Sweet, My Darling:

(My Twin Flame.)

This Part Has Been Especially Difficult For Me.

I Have Found Myself Fighting Demons I Had,

(Thought,)

We Defeated Years Past.

The Unfaltering Self Doubt Returned,

(Ringing Throughout My Psyche,)

Attempting To Draw Me Back.

Much As The Depths Of A Tide,

(Ripping All Forward Movement,)

Extracting Into It’s Daring,

(Dark,)

Endless Mystery.

I Find Myself Using Any,

(All,)

Possible Strength I Can Muster,

Just To Continue Publishing,

(And Writing.)

Upon Giving Life To My Beautiful Daughter,

My Body Took Detrimental Toll Under The Weight,

(That Is “Motherhood”.)

I Spent Eleven Years Self Harming My Digestive Track.

(Starting In Year Twelve,

Continuing Throughout My Adolescence,

Into Young Adulthood,)

Finally Gathering The Strength To End,

This Hardwired Self Hate,

(In Year Twenty-Three.)

Looking Back Through This,

(Decade,)

Of My Life,

I Cannot Help But Feel Exponentially Somber.

Not,

(Necessarily,)

For The Extended Mental Illness I Had Wrapped Myself Into,

Or The Detrimental Long Term Consequences,

(Now Faced As A Daily Reminder,)

However,

For The Loss Of Time.

Time I Could Have Spent,

Manicuring Talents,

Inventing An Answer,

(“Who Am I?”)

I Feel As Though,

Starting Now:

(The Twenty-Sixth Year,)

I Have Only Begun To Live MY Life.

A Quarter Of A Century,

Forfeited.

(Bequeathed.)

Things Of Such Silly Nature.

You Don’t Realize,

(Amongst A Reality Clouded,)

The Absurd Nature Of Your Infected Sensibility.

These Alternative Personalities,

(Alter-Egos,)

Merely Exist,

(Created,)

In Detrimental Loneliness.

In My Nineteenth Year,

I Made The Executive Decision,

(The Purpose Of My Soul,)

I Was An Author,

(Though,)

Dyslexic,

(Struggling With Language In General,)

I Was Born To Write.

I Was Asked Many Times Since This Moment Of My Life,

“What Is Your Book About?”

Replying,

“My Life.”

Always Receiving The Same Reaction,

Too Young To Accurately,

(Deserve,)

An Autobiography.

(A Fair Reaction To This Adolescent Goal.)

This Is,

(Never Was,)

An Autobiography.

“Is It Fiction? Or Non-Fiction?”

It Is Neither,

(And Both.)

This Is The Reality My Mind Lives Within,

This Is My Life,

And It Cannot Be Defined,

(By Titles Established Centuries Before My Time.)

An Organic Evolution Of Written Thought,

(OEOWT.)

How Do We Categorize A Human Mind?

Giving It Stereotypical Structural Confines,

(Another Cage Imposed Through Societal Structure.)

What Would Happen,

(If All The Bullshit Dissipated,)

Society Ceased To Cage Wild Mammals?

(Precious, Intelligent, Humans.)

What If,

The Purview Our Governments,

(Captors,)

And Media,

(Propaganda,)

(Fed Into Our Minds,)

Dissolved Into A Nothingness.

What If We Woke Up?

(Wake Up.)

What If We Could Control Our Lives?

What If We Didn’t Have To Feed THEIR Machine?

Working,

Day In,

And Day Out,

For Employers Who’s Greed Feed Only Themselves.

Lawmakers,

(Millionaires,)

Stealing Our Money To Line Their Pockets.

Taxation,

(Without Representation.)

America Was Founded On Rebels.

People Willing To Die,

As A Means Of Creating Lives They Worked Hard To Deserve.

Look At Us!

JUST FUCKING LOOK.

(We Need To Wake Up.)

Look Around.

Observe The Crumbling,

(Greed Invested,)

Corporation That Is Our Current Governmental Structure.

Using Our Tax Money To Fund Luxurious Lifestyle,

(While Our Citizens Die In The Streets.)

Our Citizens,

Dying,

(Self Inflicted Harm,)

A Sphere Unable To Fit Within The Cog Space Provided.

You Should Be Ashamed Of Yourself,

(And So Should We.)

We Can Be The Change.

We Can Reject Structures That Do Not Define Us.

We Are Not Required To Be “Fiction” Or “Non-Fiction”,

We Are Not Structured To Run Nine To Five,

(While Our Family Grow, Absent Of Us.)

We Should Not Have To Settle For Medieval, (Royal Trickery.)

What Would You Do?

If A Significant Portion Of Our Country’s Population,

(As A Whole,)

Refused To Pay You Our Hard Earned Currency?

What If…

Communities Chose Where Their Money Belonged,

(Within Their Own Society.)

Would a Young Family Get The Financial Chance To Succeed In Their Lives?

Would They Get The Chance,

To Start Their Family,

(Without Jeopardizing Their Ability To Pay For It?)

REQUIRED BY LAW.

(Laws Written Directly From The Rapacious Medical Industry, Itself,)

More Concerned With Profit Margin,

Than The Margin Between Life And Death.

(The Doctor, Crow Mask Pointed, Ferrari Freshly Polished,)

Simultaneous,

Patient’s Debt,

(Unmanageable,)

In A Wage War Society.

Ripping The Family Home Away,

A Child’s Life,

Affected Upon Birth.

My Baby Took My Knees,

My Digestive Tract,

My Hair…

You Took My Liberty.

My Human Right To The Pursuit Of Happiness.

You Are Responsible,

(For All Those Relatable Stories, Too Common.)

What Would You Do,

If We Refused To Pay You?

How Would You Function?

(Within The System You’ve Created For Us.)

You Are Responsible For The Death,

Claimed By Poverty.

You Are Responsible For The Death,

Claimed By Mental Illness.

You Are Responsible For The Death,

Of Those Who Cannot Afford To Live.

You Are Responsible For The Death,

Derived Through The Poison You Feed Your Needy.

How Fucking Dare You.

Fulfill Your Capitalistic Addiction,

Upon The Corpses You Buried,

(Piled, Naked, Stripped Of Humanity.)

A Modern, Wealth Holocaust.

How Did We Get Here?

Lost Within Our Time,

Guided By Misconstrued Commands,

Our Parents Demanded Upon Us,

(I Suppose.)

Media Propaganda,

Misguiding Our Attention,

Eleven Years Of Wasted Focus.

Pick Your Flavor,

They Have A Magician For Each And Every Little Boy And Girl.

An Impractical,

(Unhealthy,)

Standard To Take and Twirl.

Brainwash The Kids,

OBEY YOUR AUTHORITY!

Separate Them With Judgement and Scrutiny.

Tell Them That “Love” Is Found Within Beauty, Strength.

Laugh At The Ones Who Are Too Intelligent For Your Face.

Tear Them Down!

(Their Too Dangerous To Keep.)

Drive Them To Madness!

(Will Make Millions Off The Story Next Week.)

They Think Too Much!

They Are Imperfect!

(In Compliance,)

Though,

Adolescently Meek.

Steal Their Fucking Future!

Take The Crosses They Bare!

Crosses,

Let’s Not Go There,

(Just Yet.)

We Are Coming For You Too,

You Greedy Mother-fucking Threat.

Your Day Will Come,

When The Millennial Revolution Begin,

We Will Be Coming For You All,

Determined Through Chelsea Grin.

When I First Began This Project,

(Recently, Not The Beginning,)

My Husband Advised Me To Be Cautious.

“Don’t Get Lost In It.”

I Didn’t Understand What He Meant,

(Brushed Off, “It’s Just A Bit.”)

The Further I Work,

The More I Realize,

It’s Equivalently Trying With Clean Eyes.

Pursuit To Relinquish,

(Angst Of Failure.)

Though,

What Is To Fail?

With Nothing To Lose?

Excuses,

I’ve Told Every One.

Attempting To Bruise,

My Purpose In Life,

A Battle Permanently Won.

(At Times,)

The Greatest Journey Is Not That Of Which,

You Have Guided By Your Own Hand,

(Rather,)

The Distance In Which You Are Guided,

Amongst The Benefit Of Something Greater,

(As A Whole.)

A Paradox,

(Guided Toward An Unprecedented Stride For Ultimate Freedom.)

A Sea Of Voices,

(Holding You Down,)

Drowning Within Other’s Desires,

Directing A Life,

(Designed, Un-inhabitable For A Bird.)

A Bird Has No Business Within The Sea,

Parallel,

We Have No Business Bowing Down To Thee.

A Haze Of Words Suffocating My Soul:

I Can Barely Breathe,

Trapped Within A Cage Of Societal Things

(Meaningless When One Cannot Be Seen.)

Spiritual Beings With Human Experiences.

(Most Unaware Of Which This Means.)

To The Man Which Sits Behind Closed Bars,

(The One Who Thrives For Play And Fun.)

To The Girl Who Dreams Of Living In The Stars,

(The One, Simply, Desperate To Find The Sun.)

An Idea Of Fulfillment:

Their Beautiful Souls Urning,

(Unacceptable At Best.)

“To Lead A Life,”

(Rather Than Some Joke,)

Running Through Toke;

Finally, Please God, Put Their Tired Souls To Rest.

Free The Sore Feathers From My Back,

(Caked In Tar,)

Dripping Black.

Release The Ropes,

(Holding Her Here,)

Open The Galaxy,

(Allure And Near.)

Show Him Clarity,

(Silence The Voices Logging The Mind.)

An Unwavering So Deeply Filled,

(From Places Most Choose Not To Find.)

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