reaping the cost of solitude

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Rewind: Shreds of Paradise

This was when I was waiting for someone in the car back in 2011.
She wakes up. The bliss has once again been cut short as she is plunged back into the world where the skin bleeds real blood. A "paradise" likened to an anemone- hiding its tendrils as if threatened by the rusty sticks of careless aboriginal divers, welcoming the insane rush of consciousness- like a stake driven through broken bone and blood--- all too familiar, but hurts each time.

She makes her way anyway, wading through the thickening crowd. She sees this world in gray with drowsy eyes--- remnants of what once was a flourishing enthusiasm for colors and shapes... waned through the years. But something catches her eye every now and then. She smiles, says hello, lets out a few hugs- ones she wished she'd never have to let go. She sees another, and another. Her embrace grows tighter- eyes closed. This is it. These are the fragments and substitutes to her paradise, however dwarfed and insignificant, they are the pieces to the puzzle. They hold the key to make it a reality, once and for all. Maybe. But when all's said and done, she drinks her last shot of tequilla and makes her way home.


The word has such a lonely ring to it....  and it hits her. Why am I so alone? A twitch, and her skin burns. Her spasms come back, and in no time they amass into an orchestra of pain. Liars! The so-called shreds of paradise--- ALL LIES! She lashes out. With all her strength, she seeps out all memories of the day and throws them out the window like a useless deck of cards. She slumps on the bed bawling, gulps down two or three sleeping pills- barely choking on one. Her eyes wide open, pondering where she had left off and where she wishes to begin. Sobs. More sobs.... then her eyes cave in.

...the night is kind.

(from the friendster blog, June 7, 2007)

Listening to
"Sober" - Childish Gambino

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