Friday, 18 May 2012

Of life and times

Often in life, you reach a moment of clarity where you look at the pros and cons of your life and decide that despite everything happening, you're going to be happy and smile; and no longer cry yourself to sleep. Then one day, a hurricane storms through and throws everything you've built normalcy around, completely out of place; leaving you to break down into a sea of salty tears and turbulent headaches.

People never get tired of ruining everything you try so hard to maintain. All the anger you have perched up in trees in the forests of your soul decide to glide with the wild wind swaying leaves within you, all the hate you've been trying to suppress is violently pulled out of the treasure chest you've been hiding. All this because one person is unhappy and chooses to let their unhappiness steal all the visible rays of light from someone else's fading nightmare. They allow you're strong hold to run out on you, and let your strength be sucked away. They make your hands quiver and reach for sharp knives in hope that you can continuously stab them in the heart, in and out, and in and out because you have THAT much hate. You hate them, and everything they stand for and everything they're letting rest on you without even realizing the effect of their screw ups. They're letting your madre's tears moisten your shoulders. They're letting you watch someone else die before their time, because they do not care about anyone else but themselves, and their demons and internal tribulations.

These demons allow you to become the murderer you've never wanted to be. In a society where exorcism will be labeled murder and disciplinary beatings will be called abuse; there is not much one can do but live to tolerate the monsters of narcotics and the demons of the dark. All these feelings must once again be locked up in treasure chests, hidden deep beneath the waves of your soul's oceans, filled day by day by the tears of your madre...but forget not, that you will go to bed with a moistened shoulder, and moistened eyes on a moist pillow case. Yet, if you open your eyes to a new day, with blue and grey skies singing out golden hymns led by the sun, and birds staring deep into your eyes chirping passages from a far away place; you are living today for a purpose. Be it to stand as a pillar for the madre, or to exorcise the demons that haunt this La Familia; you are still alive for a reason and until the day you die, that purpose will not have been lived out. Be it that you find yourself in a precinct for first degree murder, a mental asylum for schizophrenia -- you have not yet lived out your purpose. And let that thought fuel your boat and soul over the turbulent seas that still lie before you. You are going somewhere; and only once you've reached that destination will the afterlife take you.

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