Wednesday, 5 October 2016

On Broadway and Damascus

In this centre of everything, I feel at home.
yet I know I am mostly not welcome.
i am not a functioning part of this machine.
my presence is only one to be entertained whilst there is currency in my pocket.
but my money is not on tap,
it’s on reserve.
most of it is not even mine.
and for all of the artists, models, fashionistas, pilates teachers, mad men officer managers, CEOs, and fuck if I knows,
i am an aberration.
a blip.
a second thought
pondered, then gone.
and exiled back to the middle of nowhere almost before I even arrived.

but there is no rancour in any of this.
i’m having a good time.
it simply must happen,
and i do not mind.
choices were made,
lines were drawn,
but in this momentary now,
we’re both happy that fate has decreed we be bought together.
you can buy my drinks for a week without resentment.
i’ll engage your mind
make you laugh
kiss you
soothe you
and entice you into believing in a world that will never exist for either of us.
for any of us.
doubt will kick in.
but inside one of those frozen moments that dare to approach perfection,
which two even briefly connected souls cannot help but share,
i see so clearly how all of this could be so different.
that i could stay.
one day.

but you don’t know me.
i don’t know me.
catch me wrong.
find me riding wild with my devil and i might as easily put a blade in you as give you a smile.
or gouge out my eyes with a hot spoon and leave them on your doorstep.
there is no Ma Kali fiery enough to becalm that kind of Shiva.
evil resides within me.
just another facet to the game.
a dark web determined to entangle and engulf my go(o)d
my saint
the king deserving, and deserved, of your majestic queen.
yet all of this grand and scary talk is little more than myth.
stunted exaggeration.
mere mental masturbation.
a monster to hide behind.
an excuse to not be better.
an ill-fitting, disfigured mask that feigns ferociousness as a means to preempt pain.
to stop you from getting too close
and stealing a glance at my true reflection in the eternal mirror.
to deny you a peak at the precious flower of a soul
that is too delicate to survive any interaction that is not all consuming and absolute.

i’m afraid
this battle never stops.
not yet.
how long this never lasts is still undecided,
but it’s definitely outdone today.
tomorrow probably, too.
the sublime already shattered this illusion a million times over,
yet we keep getting lost in the bliss of our release.
pills and potions numb the pain triggered by the inkling of such knowledge.
tattooed philosophies and dreams of romance bridge the gap,
as we rise up and turn to blindly scale the mountain;
bound once more to the karmic conveyor belt that delivers us ceaselessly back
to the vortex of our own discontentment.
Tat Tvam Asi.
and in the sudden truth of that blinding flash,
we free-fall headfirst in wonder as we transcend the flatland of this torrid charade.
and, one fine morning.
one fine morning,
we will once again bask in the glory of our communion.
i etch out this oath to you in the tears of my own blood.

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