#231
I wake to a message from the universe's stardust // she tells me to reach inside and find self love // where self-loathing has taken charred root, where its tendrils twist and knot, where memories flicker and fade, only to revomit in silhouette // and it's tricky, to place candlelit faith in a body that has only bad things to say about you // to polish a mirror that reflects something that chews anxiety and gnaws failure // to calm a fire that burns only plastic and pretend things // why would anyone love what is wretched, what is awkward and boring // how could anyone love that which abandons and produces demons // what is there to love in something that disappoints and disappears // forget the flaws, this is a human fuck-up // this is white noise // this is meaningless automaton // I cannot - and must not - love this thing that rattles around with a body of complaints and a brain of bewildering barking // ... // (deep breath. in through the nose, out for a lifetime) okay hang on, let me try this again // in small increments, armed with strong coffee and good intentions // one foot before the other, cracking bad puns // one day at a time, insecurely trying to not let down my friends // just this one minute, hurried along by the seconds, to find joy in the minutiae of being, the human poetry of it all: it starts here, with a softly-held hand and a big cheesy grin
