Old Friend

Hello my old friend,


You have raped and pillaged in far away lands and now you’ve returned to me. Was it an illusion that lead me here, rolling the same thoughts through my mind like a man spilling a coin over his fingers, to balance on his thumb and watch it cascade down his knuckles again.



I have murderous hands. Like pythons they constrict sharply. I want to give you the burial you deserve. But I’m saddened by the probable reality that you will rest with me.  Until my heart stops it’s echo through my chest. I will carry you as a scarred cloak, only putting you on when a threat exists. That could constrict my heart.


And herein lies the problem. The threat has always existed. The threat was never there.  Do we not care what people think? I would love a different answer. But the torturous thoughts did not spawn from my environment alone. And guilt quickly follows the guilty. Like a dog.


I desire isolation. I dream of it. I have a choice. I have backed myself into life’s corner. Not my own. I am not happy here. The one’s i unconsciously worry about are nothing to me. They are people i do not respect. It is their behaviour. I am not respected. That is due to having a personality. You cannot deny success. It is midnight.  I feel like i have to pick a fight to regain lost ground.



Is it that i doubt myself. Or maybe their behaviour inspires me to do so. To question who i am. It is. If i choose not to question myself and increase my level of honesty and it’s delivery. I will not play their game. I will play mine.


This is my test. It truly only matters what my son thinks. Whether i care about what they think doesn’t matter. After everything i have achieved. If I do not question myself then my life is my own. Don’t waiver.




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