Morpheus
~
Suppress the bursts of emotion as hard as you can. Push the tears back inside. Push them back. You always knew you didn't belong. You don't belong anywhere. You never did and you never will. Deep down, you know. You know you can never show them who you really are. You know. You know they'll never realize what they mean to you.
No matter what, keep your eyes open because the hell within is far greater than the hell without. And keep your heart open so that maybe some of the hurt gets out. And, most of all, keep your child hidden in his room. He doesn't deserve to see you like this.
All around me, I see art. I see it in their eyes. I see it in the stars, in the waves. I see it everywhere. What ensues is a sort of appreciation devoid of passion. This is nice. And this same beautiful emptiness flows through my hands. So I write. I write to get a chance to capture the feeling, that gentle light that continues to elude me. And, still, I feel nothing. Over and over, I write to escape the void. Over and over, the void erases me. And, still, I feel nothing.
What do you see?
What do you feel?
Try to feel it. Try to feel it, now. Now, pause. Now burn the ocean on the canvas of your mind and pour it into a spoonful of liquid painkillers. Jump in. Dive in. Swim. Swim slowly through these hypocritical layers of a damaged psyche. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe out that self-deluded conscience that cripples your soul. Breathe in. Breathe out. And when you get to the bottom of shallow depth, you may find a shadowy metal reflection staring back at you. Are you watching closely?
The shadow becomes you.
And, still, you feel nothing.
So let there be light... and a shadow – you. Let it through. Then tell me where it hurts.
~
“Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.”
Carl Jung