With sterling and rather idiotic perseverance, I pursue my inconvenient definitions of sin and virtue in spite of everything I unfortunately want and in spite of the demons screeching inside my head wanting to break free. Likes the ashes I am bound to become, I hovered over the fence just to take the quickest of peaks at what can’t be, but the altitude at which I can see life gets lower and lower as I grow older and not the least bit wiser. I fled, I fled, I envied the unburdened dead, unburdened by such definitions and I envied the living undead who rid themselves of their freedom, hoping for fantasy to justify the lifeless life they lead.
I am the grey area separating oblivion from salvation, the sinner from the priest, the silence of darkness from the melodies of the morning sun, I am nothing, everything and all that lies in between.
I had hoped to be absolved from my sins but I am the judge, the jailer and the jury who happened to have one sole, sturdy self-judging criteria; Sin is honouring desire above what I know is right, henceforth I am a sinner in theory for the better part of my days.
My head is at the precipice, the past is torment, the present is temptation and the future is terminal…Save me..
Save what you can see…Can you see? Can I be allowed to be?
Salvage me..
Salvage the beautiful many…the parts of an ugly one,
See..
You are me …or the idea of what I long to be…aimlessly…
Kill me…set me free..
The Flaky Derelict 