Resistance

Written 29/01/10

There are birds here; they're white with gray, skinny legs. They snap at you and want your food, they want to absorb what you have to offer. There's a little black bird with green, skinny legs that keeps to itself, it does not bother but will snap at you if you bother it. It smiles at the sun and basks in its glow.
The Flow.
Reaching the Flow.

26 Hours, not one blink of sleep, feeling wired I snap when I'm bothered, I'm tired. You, you do not understand. Sitting with the misinterpretation on my back, it's heavy. You cluck your tongue and stare at skies blue, it's what you want to do. No we or us that exists within life, this saddens me and I do feel remorse. We walk along, side by side, but we are not together. We talk for long, but the conversations are short. This feeling, though, lasts forever. I never, never would sit and watch you cry, stare, then say I don't care.
So tired with these depressing thoughts, tears stream but they do not come from emotion. Emotion would cause me to feel. But you and your touch; your fingertips once warm with the heat from your heart, in steady paces it faded and something absolutely freezing touched your veins and mutated them to slick ice. I dare not attempt to rub them warm for what you would call fury would unleash and I would be the recepient. The drips of defrost would cost my everlasting soul, would it not?
Your touch is a different story. You hold your freezing hand to my heart and this depression I feel is not anger or sadness or confusion - it's nothing. I am numb with nothing. These tears fall accordingly that mourn the loss of the better half of emotion. Tears that fall in an enormous crowd, I feel eyes on my back but dare not look up. Mortification's natural effects puts a redness to my cheeks but I do not feel internally. It doesn't matter.
The people, the birds I love most surround me in question. They debate pulling me away from the crowd. One claims to, but then they sit and do not one thing. What sits with me is disappointment and I misunderstand. The any and everything that matters is my confusion now. The love once held was crushed, the trust once held now dust. Nothing matters to you except what's convenient for you. I understand the selfishness but not because it's me - because I've witnessed it time after time. I mind your absence of heart and those are the tears that fall. That everything we had is now lost. Just know that no matter what circumstance, if tears rolled from your green eyes I would have held your hand. I would have said I'm sorry, because I love you. But you died the day you stopped caring for her and for him and for me. Green eyes sits in its demise. No matter who's to blame.
You thought we were playing a game today - a power play, who does struggle and who does crave victory. I crave nothing but for peace, your love and for all above that. Reaching the Flow is the dream, but you turned your back on all of that for a greed called happiness. Nothing good is in the hand you play. You spit cards of anger and cruelty - that defined as your slick icy veins. You hold my compassion and love within your heart, but you use it for advantage.
You're the so pure white bird who flies over the sea, while I'm the little black bird who sits in a tree. Must finish this piece before we speak. I can't apologize, nor can you, so together we speak in a silence I hate, out of the evil you make, over our twisted fates. Reaching the Flow is the dream, it's my pure mean of existence. Don't resist it, you'll be missing it later.
I promise.

xoxo