Denial

Placid.

Stagnant.

Floating upon the scum of the pond

hair streaming

no cares

no feelings

numbness

all that I need.

With nothing

there is no pain

there is no fear

there is no acknowledging that past.

With nothing

I am blurred

I am stoned

I no longer seek to understand

who I am.

Why I am.

Broken child.

Halo bent.

Satan is waiting.

A lot of learning

yet to be done.

Yearning.

Please understand.

I hate myself.

I love myself.

I speak in tongues.

There is no real happiness

no reality

for denial is one.

Oct. 34/18

Photo by Velizar Ivanov on Unsplash