Hours compareable to incarceration. Guilt complex unrelenting. Self-inflicted insecurities. I am the cause of these things, bringer of isolation, an unquenchable hunger. How is it found, the bread of satisfaction, to which I find my cravings resolved? No blood has been taken this moon, nor sacrifices at the alters of flesh, yet the memory of your anguish at the hands of the demons in your mind justifies. It stands out like an idol, bound and infected with the misery you have gestated this far, speaking a language you learned while living in the light. Its words sound like the love you condemned yourself for abandoning, reassuring you to the testimony that placed you in such a choice to begin with. This graven image, this self-created idolatry has now somehow become the boon of effort. This is my prize? Resurrected scar tissue in the form of haunting memories? Another moments pause at the hands of time quells this paranoia. Another song presents itself. Another day begins and you understand now that this image is only real because you have become capable of seeing the self you have created.
I have not been able to forgive myself once, in every day Ive lived, since I left you. My sleep is unfulfilling without waking up next to my daily reminder of why I live to breathe. The food I eat only lets me live longer to count sobering minutes into a life spanning memory of dreaming this had more purpose. The flouride in my water is my best shot at getting a sembelence of stability. You did, however, let me know that I have your blessings and love. A single line of words that burn my eyes and steal my breath every time I remember them.
Well, graven image, idol of my agony. I have heard your words, felt your song and tasted your testimony. I thank you for your time spent waiting, your compassion and your honesty. Please let it be know, oh Idol of my regret, that I have all asperations of obtaining the salvation my love has hoped I reach. I will not forget how we have spoken today or the voice you sing to me in. Let my requiem begot of your salvation, oh bearer of burden. Please return to the creator of your message and announce its delivery, reception and praise. Give thy creator an assurance, her voice is heard.