Running

May 21, 2014

Hands trembling we start:

start sleeping, start dreaming, start to let go.

It is not a glorious start.

weak wings barely lift us from the muddy ground, the vision of perfect flight soaring above us.

We will not be the graceful ones.

Visions of failure and a tight grip of cynicism blur the edges of reality into a dark haze.

There is little to pull us from the doom save our ever growing wings covered in feathers of our

own imperfect making.

Sleep is not an option for the feeble attempts at life.

We are too close to our impossible dream to sleep.

Sleep is for the common man.

I am no man.

I refuse to sit under your gaze and hate myself for the imperfections you wrought, the

imperfections you helped to distinguish.

I cannot hate my scarred soul.

No, I am destined to love the hatred I bare within me.

It boils and burns and hurts me almost more than it hurts you but I will love it, that painful deep

rooted hatred.

To cut down that tree of envy and loathing would be to rip out out a part of my soul.

There is no middle path for me.

I will live as if I do not have another chance, I will let my emotions take full control of me for I am

a being of emotion.

You tell me not to hate, I will only hate you more; you tell me not to love, I will only love you

more.

It is my fatal flaw and my defining characteristic.

Funny isn’t it, how the thing that is the worst for you and the thing you love the most can be the

same.

I haven’t really doubted my existence until now.

Not until I realized the universe could go on without me.

Vanity could only float my shore bound soul for so long.

Now I am struggling to the surface in this midnight life and any sense of purpose I had floats

away with the wreck.

Opening my eyes to the world, staring down at me with its big round eyes, oceans full of tears

and its full burning closed off heart, we come to a halt, our eyes flashing like fire crackers and

our hearts racing like an uncontrollable bullet train.

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