If you say I have something to fight for, I will fight.

Dec 13, 2012 I want to write about the things that matter, that make your stomach turn inside out. My fingers run smoothly over the keys once they get started, like a ceremony of truth, no one's left in mercy. I indulge myself in my heavenly destruction and this empty bottle makes such a beautiful reflection in this broken mirror, reflecting the insides of my inconsistent mind. I follow my vein with the tip of my finger, the one that gets more defined every day, as if it's trying to break out and split my skin. From my hands, pressing hard over my wrist, up to my heart. It's still flowing in there, maybe, looks like a frozen river under this pale skin. There are days when I have to lie completely still for ten minutes before I can feel my own pulse, and it's beating slower, fading fast. It will get harder from here and I'm collecting my locks, writing my letters, isolating my walls. I never meant to make you concerned and please don't worry, but lover, it will get harder from here. I am not your weekend morning with coffee and roses. I am insomnia and nausea and every night when you're off in sleep I'm staying up counting my bones, discussing my choices with the voices in my head. I thought I could get rid of my old ways, my old habits, my old me this way, but I'm coming to the conclusion that one's own personality is independent from its body and so I can keep this up until there's nothing left but my skeleton, but my mind will still be in there, you see? And so now I need to study. I need to follow the signals from my brain to my heart and do you know any scientists because I am open for experiments. I am open for observations and you can study me like Woyzeck, use my very brain for analysis, because I swear I'm an exceptional case. It will get harder from here and December was never gentle with me, but I'm ready for battle. Don't worry lover, I've been sharpening my knives and I can sit in lotus for hours. I'm ready to face the monsters. You go your way and I will try to still be here, if you choose to come back. There comes a time when you have to make the decision to either surrender and let the storm bury every trace of your very existence, or to stand up and defend your own life. If you say I have something to fight for, I will fight.

// from Empty Roads & Broken Bottles; in search for The Great Perhaps

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drunk on someone else’s love,
or couch,
and I’ve never felt more at home.

I fled myself,
from the life I’ve built
because I’ve been inhabiting routines I don’t want to stand for.

Inhabiting skin I’d rather shed
but still took on
like a soldier serving his country,
for that’s what they told me to do.
But I was not
or wise,
but young and foolish,
for what is this thing? Trading passions for a tiny bit of acceptance,

and I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls
with clean blood
and organised drawers.
I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests
at night when no one else is alive,
or awake,
however you choose to see it,
and I live in my own flames.
Sometimes burning too bright and too wild
to make things last 
or handle
myself or anyone else
and so I run.
Run run run,
far and wide
until my bones ache and lungs split
and it feels good.
Hear that, people? It feels good,
because I am the slave and ruler of my own body
and I wish to do with it exactly as I please,
and living in this skin is hard and painful, most of the times,

because I never volunteered to take this on.

The daily sacrifice of heart over mind,
the forever on going task of explaining this and that,
and why I don’t want to look like this and
be like that
but still here I am and if this is the body I’ve been given I’m sure as hell gonna make it work.
If this is the place I’ve been given, I’m sure as hell gonna make this work.

So I fled the me that was never really me and I’m on my way. To newer lands and uncleaned streets
for I’ve had enough of childish safety in comfort.
Enough of all telling me to look and do, like this and that,

and I never meant to please anyone but myself
and you can call me selfish,
throw words like knives in the dark but I will not listen,
for not listening to sharp words brought me to where I am today
and I believe in the path I’ve been given. If my only task in this life is to walk it,
I surely will walk it
prouder than anyone else.

If this is the path I’ve been given, I will walk it
prouder than anyone else,
for no one else can.

// from my book You’re Doing Just Fine ☾

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