You once told me I was faithless.

I wish you could see it;
The wildfire behind these hills.
They've been screaming for us. Our names.

For years,
For centuries,

For a lifetime.

I have put them in despair.
I have put us all in despair.

And yet, here we are.

Here I am, asking you to lead me straight to it.
Here you are, searching for the ground in which I am walking on.

You once told me I was faithless.

Now if that wasn't the faith you were expecting,
then I hope one day you get to understand.

The Devil

When I was a child I was convinced that the devil had no name.

I used to think that he was an entity that was literally everywhere all the time, slipping through everyone in every corner and that was just how it is.

I used to sleep on the left side of my bed and made space for him, just to let him know that he doesn't have to slip through me he can just lie down next to me instead and mind his own business.
I used to pray before every meal just to let him know that I'm famished and protected and totally not alone and he can just go do something else that doesn't involve my female gastro rage that I think is a lot more vicious than what he makes of himself.

Even when I didn't know any better, I was so sure that whenever your body feels like an uninvited guest is crawling through the depths of your flesh and shivers you down to your spine,
You are supposed to pretend that you're not shaking and really trick yourself into thinking that you can beat this. That you can manage this. That you can take this. That you own this.
When years went by and I had the privilege to learn better, I learned that the devil was not who I thought he was.

He wasn't an invisible entity that could transform into whatever your mind wants him to become.
He doesn't just die when you strike him down with your faith-based sentences or your mythical gun or your fictional double-edged dagger.
No; The devil did have a name.
He had one so easy to pronounce that it rolled off my tongue instantly the moment I learned what it was.
Its name sounded so familiar, it almost sounded just like yours.

The devil does not die when he leaves.
He comes in a figure that was so human you almost feel sorry for him you offer him shelter.
The devil leaves a mark so big and visible that he is now much more alive than the last time you left him.
The devil doesn't leave; He stays,
and you become his reflection.
You become his fingerprint.
You become his epilogue.
You become him.

The Pivotal Moment

One night I managed to not sleep at all pondering about the word 'pivotal'.
I mean, okay, sure, pivotal.
You know that one moment where you have absolutely no idea where you've plucked the word from and why, out of all the words, it just had to be that one that endures?

I looked it up to figure out what it meant in which it showcased words 'vitally important', along with 'serious', and 'critical', and 'all-important', and 'substantial';
and 'burning'.
I stopped and went with that one.

The world recognized this and I am fazed.

I am fazed knowing that for something to be substantial- and important- and glimmering; is that it has to be burning.
The world recognized this and noone bothered to leave a yellow highlighter on it.
Now, I thought, I finally had a word to highlight it with.

You know; The scene when I came to your rotten event and you told everyone that I wanted to be there and you actually thought that I did and all your friends thought that I was edgy.
The scene when I waited 4 hours in my parents' living room for you to come by just to tell me that things aren't going the way you pictured and you thought that I could handle it.
The scene when I listened to my favourite track off of my favourite record and the first thing I saw was you tying your shoe laces on my front porch and that it didn't matter.
The scene when you told me that I was your saviour and for a moment I almost believed that I was.

Isn't it spellbinding how the mind can steer you in full auto-pilot to something that you didn't even know existed and makes you go, "Hell, that's a fucking good one."

Your mind is a compass that moves in a reckless but precise motion and wherever it takes you,
You, you are supposed to just follow it through and expect your worst to become your best.
It is a gift to have been brought to a beautiful holocaust that will leave you majestic and non-forgiving and prosperous.
This has to be this way and you,
You are meant to be this way,
Burn this way,
Walk this way,
Win this way.

Girl, let them run from you.
Let them kick and scream and be terrified of you,
Look at you;
You are beaming bright in red and orange.

You see that?
It becomes one of those moments.

Those pivotal moments.

Powered by Blogger.