16 Feb 2016


The air is still. My bed is cold, and I'm kicking goals. I'm a sucker for the sting of love. I don't sleep, and I never did. But at least I once had her to blame for that.

The pain is bloom in the evening when my cat is a comforting nuzzle, but I hear a memoried voice call her belled pouncing on both of us.

And when I call her and try and the words just become hate and pain. When I listen to songs and the tears burst out of me, when sometimes it is so important to put on a brave face.

It is the cold steel of my success and the tempered brutality of hers. It is the dawn of failing and the promise of dark tomorrow. The sun when it whips my smirk has hope that none will suffer at my hands, and so it shines a light with the power of forgiveness.

How dark it is before the dawn.

Help me forgive. Help the light endure. For tomorrow there are things the sun wants doing, and this pawn carries marching orders into the hearts of the inspired.

Insatiable loneliness, go dwell in the minds of heartless men where ye belong.

I am learning to love my company and accept that sometimes I am vicious. If I can learn to live with that, then anyone can survive my scorning blade.

But if I have hurt you, world, for another day I am sorry. Let me do better tomorrow.