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Monday, November 16, 2015

Devolution

Bring on the idiocy, bring on the unspecified monsters, bring on the demands of the unworthy. Don't mind me, I'm just floating through stardust on my way to someone who's not you, somewhere that's not here, sometime that's not now. My eyes are mint green from taking in sights that I'm supposed to hold precious. My hair is sticky from wallowing in the nauseous depths of self-soothing. I know I said I like edges, but I think I prefer corners.
Someday that's not today, you'll get used to it all: you'll get used to being mistaken for someone else and being showered with gifts meant for that other person; you'll get used to reducing your heart to pulp before even thinking of trying something new; you'll get used to this way of life that I've been leading since I was five.
So bring it on, challenge me, try to convince yourself of the world's goodness by resisting the inevitable truths residing at the end of the battle that you now fight -- one which I have made it out of, with my heart of gold intact and well complemented: by a silver tongue and rosy fingers, and by mint green hair and sticky eyes ... or was it the other way around?

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