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
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