Today I'm the tired of a thousand tireds...
It's been a month of non-stop. Weeks of sickness. I spoke with my ex and almost softened to him. He sent me nightmares so quickly. This misery though, has lasted years, much of it lingering from childhood...
I cannot bear it anymore. I cannot heal anything anymore. I can't...
I let the fires of hell burn me. I laughed, boiling flesh and I laughed. Never fully understanding why the darkness, the anger, the violence no longer frightened me. Was I demented? My mother had dementia. Was this dementia hell?
No. It was me breaking from the seed. Eucalyptus fruit can only seed if it is burnt with fire. I am so ugly and raw right now. It was never the ending for me, it was the beginning.
I broke free. It had to be in my mind, my heart, my body and spirit, I had to say things outloud, to exist. To burn. A strange blessing my parents are passed that there is no bigger leaf or tree to veil me anymore. This, the horrifying responsibility of doing everything alone, just a seed, needed to be burned with fire.
I opened. I am reaching roots, I am a tender shoot but I am determined. Life compels me, I can't question why yet. I simply want to do what nature wants.
And my son. I will not shroud him. My only wish is if we grow together, myself a late bloomer, we will have the most possible time together. Or if me passing is best for him, I go back quietly to the earth. Perhaps hide me in the wind, or the rustling of leaves, or the cry of the foxes, just please let me be free.
I cannot bear it anymore. I cannot heal anything anymore. I can't...
I let the fires of hell burn me. I laughed, boiling flesh and I laughed. Never fully understanding why the darkness, the anger, the violence no longer frightened me. Was I demented? My mother had dementia. Was this dementia hell?
No. It was me breaking from the seed. Eucalyptus fruit can only seed if it is burnt with fire. I am so ugly and raw right now. It was never the ending for me, it was the beginning.
I broke free. It had to be in my mind, my heart, my body and spirit, I had to say things outloud, to exist. To burn. A strange blessing my parents are passed that there is no bigger leaf or tree to veil me anymore. This, the horrifying responsibility of doing everything alone, just a seed, needed to be burned with fire.
I opened. I am reaching roots, I am a tender shoot but I am determined. Life compels me, I can't question why yet. I simply want to do what nature wants.
And my son. I will not shroud him. My only wish is if we grow together, myself a late bloomer, we will have the most possible time together. Or if me passing is best for him, I go back quietly to the earth. Perhaps hide me in the wind, or the rustling of leaves, or the cry of the foxes, just please let me be free.
