I feel so responsible.
Responsible for humanities grief and pain and love
I claim it all and shove it back into the womb of its mother
a dark place but safe and warm
Where does this come from, this interconnectedness, this grief, this pain
obsesses over me, every thought every second of every day.
Sometimes I am enraged by the angst of taking another breath
Sometimes i cry because I just want to bleed to feel something.
Sometimes I am so overwhelmed by the beauty in this world it breaks my heart
and sometimes, just sometimes, I am so deeply saddened by the suffering here in this place, not my own, that I am consumed by it.
And in its consumption it eats my soul and spits it out, leaving me an empty shell.
A vacancy for rent, a flaccid recollection.
I am so corrupt, and not by choice. I corrupt me. I am the corruption.
I am the sin. The ocean drinks me and the earth eats my heart right out of my chest.
I celebrate my own demise. Its rushing quiet, its foul play. It is in this moment I realize that, this is the end of something.
THe heat, the water, the fluid movement of solidarity. The escapist removes his bondage and frees his soul from cathartic bliss. Its then he is finally free.
Even in his own mind.
In this moment.