Love by the ounce
The weight lifted.
The noise silenced.
The world becomes horrifyingly beautiful.
My hands move seamlessly.
My thoughts are clean once again,
and the life I have been suffering through
suddenly has reason.
Deception dissolves.
This body becomes mine.
The evil that once controlled me
burns away.
Painful rest takes over me,
and I pray that we are not alone.
Music moves
like the flame of my mother’s favorite candle.
My eyes see clearer,
blind to every regret.
Is this what we long for?
Why is addiction the mother of euphoria?
Why has God designed me for sabotage?
Answers I may never receive.
Yet the undecided is,
for once,
simple.
Indecision is opportunity,
and once again,
I envy the sane.
As the wise ones poison my thoughts,
I am given this curse to contribute.
Yet my soul aches with curiosity.
Am I the one?
Chosen to create.
Chosen to provide
for this wretched earth,
once filled with prosperity—
with gifts and leisure
that were once reality.
Now, the book of Genesis—
the story that plagues all women.
I read,
and I question:
Am I meant for this?
Am I meant to wonder
and wander?
My sickness has become my prospect.
Shall I exchange my pain
for revenue?
I remember when I was born.
I remember the freedom
to be who I was.
The desire to fall under
becomes nothing but that—
a hauntingly satisfying remembrance.
And this planet I love,
a sanctuary for the damned,
is now a jail cell
of intoxication.
Into a hazy, blissful rest,
I go peacefully.
If only heaven
were this beautiful.
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