Friday, March 2, 2007

The Eternal Flaw

Let’s just say that I’m tired. I’m tired of all the wrongs and the occasional rights that I have done and will continue to do. I just want to stop. Halt and rust until time forgets all about me. I just wanted to end whatever life is breathing, beating in this dung heap flesh held together by a tattered and worn out soul. How I yearn for a car crash, an accident that does not want to be rescued, jammed traffic intersections where I can just lay still, go deaf and oblivious.

Have you been at the edge of the roof? The eternal flaw is so profound that it is impossible to fix it. You are left with nothing genuine, nothing true except the feeling of being alone and empty. It is always raining in my mind. And I am flooding this barrenness in me. The dam I built a long time ago now stands in ruin, proud no more. The craving of deliverance is unsatisfied, unfulfilled. Dearth of everything I miss. My seasons are leaving without any particular reason. My demons I try to exorcise in a ritual of sincerity and mendaciousness. However, they come back. I know they’ll come back. They always do. How I wish I could talk to an angel and tell him, tell her, tell them that I am here, there and nowhere all at the same time.

Sometimes I wish for a sunburn. Walk indiscriminately in a white shoreline and bask in the radiance that never was. I wish I could touch the horizon and see what is beyond the fixated stars that shine best when nearing death. My ever-gazing star. You shine best now.

I wanted to drown together with you because last night you were the sky and today you are the moon. But you are not there. Can I ask you where are the fireflies that make your slit eyes glow like fire in dark caverns where I hide my sorrows? I almost miss your fragile hands. I can still hear how it makes beautiful music like how a piano makes a filthy bistro the most beautiful place in this fleeting world with her melody of black and white keys.

Let’s just say its over. The start and the end are fast closing on us. Like a faded black and white film, you have seen the reruns but you still fall for it everytime. You fall into a thousand pieces. You are scattered like unmindful pieces of glass waiting to cut and slit some wrist, some vein, some drifting life. You and I are the shards of my former self.


I am tired. But I am fine.

sashaninel may182006