V!SiON

I don’t feel like doing this with you today. This battle of wit and whimsy. The sinful act of love and the healing act of terror, bleeding you dry, frustrated by your inability to let go of yourself. Bleed yourself dry, yes, that’s what you do. No a few stars isnt enough. You have to see the night sky in all its glory, light one up until the smoke rises to the top and blinds you from the truth of it. A ceiling made smoky by your inability to view anything as reality. You blink too often and miss too many moments. So hazy, the landscape around you is merely one large shadow. The sun even hides from you when it can. Cant your eyes just ease up a bit? That stranger is not out to hurt you. Your family is doing okay tonight, as far as you know, isnt that enough? No. Youd rather dream up every horrible scenario to ensure your heart has been guarded the whole time in the case it does happen. It never works. Do you ever dream of anything good that can happen to you instead? Are your eyes too blackened and beaten? Is your tongue too rotten? Your skin too tight? Youd bleed yourself dry if there was any left. You allow yourself to decompose. Yet, there was once a heartbeat wasn’t there? When her guard fell and exposed her true senses to you? Her laugh that crept into the early morning and late afternoon? Is that it? No. Lets dream up the opposite and close yourself off from any glory. You’ve bled yourself dry and you cant stand it. Your stare lacks warmth, your hugs lack closeness, your vision lacks commitment, staring at 20 different avenues at once as if time allowed for that, praying for resolution, hoping the pain continues so the good doesn’t get in the way, preaching things you know half a damn thing about, coasting on luck and next week, preying on hope! Preying on hope! You have no title, no face, no claim, you drift into the back to remain unseen, you cling to whispers to get you through the night, praying on hope. Even if the smoke clogs your lungs by the time you finish writing this piece.