she flits and floats and haunts me. she is not a shadow or a death mask. she is the godess of discord, doubt and strife.
who am i? where do i come from? why was i born?
if cogito ergo sum, then why do i exist?
i should not
i want not to be
i have been undergoing a process of transmogrification. the outcast, the scapegoat, the cleaver and the whore.
the ripper, the stripper, the candelabra maker.
stript of all my extraneous garb- shedding my skin slowly, stripping it off, inch by painful inch. hack out my veins, see the blood flow free. out damn spot- see if you can erase these godforsaken lines.
agnostic. yes. not willing to believe.
shunted from one end of the spectrum to the other like i was fetid water. booted and rebooted.
thrown, in a million shards and splinters to the grimy sandbars of time. fed to the innumerable piranhas of decayand disillusionment.
living on borrowed time
would that i had faith for a minuscule droplet of time, to say take me away god. life me up.
god has been silent for ages now. your god is not here today priest.
would that i were a doctor.
physician heal thyself
would that i were a sage
know thyself
would that i never was nor ever would be.
i shall not inflict my sorry self on your company anymore.
no more will you see my hunted face
you're free - to go
and leave the wastelnads of my mind.
go
presume not to scan me.
i am ok alone
maktub
it is writ
tathastu
may it be