So quick to react, so eager to spoil.
I pushed you deeper into the hole of misery that caught you,
shoved you farther into the earth where no light would find you,
thought less and less of your flailing arms and gasping breath,
forgetting in my blind haze of bitterness what I was made of,
forgetting of my humanity, of what chance I still had left to love,
forgetting that you were on your knees, begging for help,
your face was raised to the moon in desperation,
your eyes filled with forgone exasperation,
and here I was, anxious to throw you down before me,
to bury you in all of the timeless agony you have caused me,
to show you where cruelty etches its mark best.
Alas, I am a self-educated fool and nothing more,
spouting venom at mine own,
lashing the chain of maliciousness backwards and forwards,
discarding what conscience I have left in return for vengeance,
bittersweet albeit momentary vengeance,
all to the failed intent of filling a void that has become too great,
too vacuous in its own right,
too merciless to conceal.
I am disgusted with myself,
repulsed beyond remorse,
disillusioned with my hypocrisy,
angry at this life I could never tame,
angry with everyone else for failing me,
and it is in these moments when the weight is greatest,
for I have held onto this for too long,
and now I am angry with myself.
If you kin see de light at daybreak, you don’t keer if you die at dusk. It’s so many people never seen de light at all.
But it cannot be, I say to her halfheartedly. There is no way this is true. Why not? She retorts so insistently, those bloodshot eyes widening at me. Because, I reply feebly, this is borne out of bullshit, nothing more. No, she says more sharply this time, and I feel the pressure of her fingers dig into my skin as she takes hold of me. Does she know how easily I bruise? Still, this is absurd. I don’t believe a word of what she’s saying. I’m not lost in my own consciousness, I say, my level of self-pity plummeting to the depths of hell and back. I ended up missing the joke as her chortling broke me out of thought. I looked up at her smiling face. You’re so silly, she says as she releases me from her grip. You’re so unnecessary, she tells me. The fuck is that supposed to mean? I ask, conflicted between insult and amusement. You just are, she tells me. There is no such thing as a standstill, no such thing as roaming aimlessly, it’s all in this round head of yours, she says. Really? I spit back, firing up all of a sudden. I’ve had it with this one. I’m over all of this, I say as I get up to leave. I storm out of the room and slam the door behind me for good measure, although it wasn’t much of an impression as the door never closed completely to begin with. I hear her laughter fade as I exit that ominous building of hers. What a fucking hyena, I think to myself.
Tonight Unhappiness visits me like an old and forgotten friend,
one I longed to be rid of many moons ago.
She tugs at the hem of my beautiful dress and says,
“Come away with me.”
At first her tone is sweet and alluring
and then turns like a tide as she finishes.
“Snap out of your bliss,” she warns me,
her voice the crack of a stinging whip.
I pull back from her ugly appearance
as gracefully as a lady can manage under the circumstances.
Still she continues to tug insistently,
and her despicably repetitive motion threatens
to rip the finely stitched sequins off my dress.
I paid a goddamned fortune for that dress.
“Let go of me,” I say condescendingly. “What are you doing here of all places?”
I look up to make sure no one was paying any mind to us,
and sure enough no one did.
They had conveniently left the room
so this friend might have words with me.
I take a long breath and look down
to see her in all her winning presence.
She is frail,
the pathetic frame of a beggar woman
who had not had a proper meal (or bath) in weeks.
But I was no fool to take any literal meaning from what I saw.
She had always come to me in one manifestation or another,
as she was nothing more than dark matter.
Any pinch of condescension I sprinkled at her was laughable,
she cared nothing for my petty bullshit.
“Get out,” I tell her, my tone dangerous.
I feel the tightness of her grip release and I’m free.
But then she pulls herself up to rise
and throws her head back in a howl of laughter
and when she looks at me again she is a different person.
This time she is a regina, and a black crown sits atop her head.
Her eyes are swollen in smokes of ravenous darkness,
wherever she turns the black diamonds in her crown shimmer.
“You can’t tell me such things,” she says with an airy wave of her hand.
“Don’t you dare visit me again,” I say with a pointed finger,
although my voice is but a whisper.
Then I see a dark red smile spread across her shadowy face
and she tells me, “How wonderful that we are together again.”
She draws closer, so close that I can smell her rosy perfume,
a scent conflicted between repulsion and enticement.
She wraps an arm around my waist and places a soft kiss on my cheek.
“Together again,” she whispers melodiously into my ear.
1. I’ve been watching too much Spartacus. Seeing too much ruby liquid in whatever form my sleep dreams up for me. Don’t get me wrong though – it’s bloody awesome and I’m not complaining. Anyway, don’t mind my false Hollywood latin influences and all. A momentary inspiration is what it is.
2. I picture said friend above as Melisandre but somehow more elegant and less like a 90s goth, which is how I took her to be in Storm of Swords.
3. I’ll stop the fandom references now. Right now.
I have roamed further into the East,
my body is but a shell to cover what is left,
the tinged bloodiness of my ligaments
continue to stretch their limits to a shameful mess,
and while this place is barren and deceitful,
I should continue my aimless wandering,
because my virtue does not justify my loneliness,
and the Gods have not given the map I have asked for,
they may think my incompetence insulting,
I would not question their decision-making,
I have been walking for too long.