The Loki Dance

acrid

My bravado leaks from my arm. My smile falsified but you would know that if you knew me. My body a constant irritant, my mind following a close second. You keep illusions, at least i do, to blanket yourself. For some sort of comfort. Having illusions ripped away is painful. Having nothing to dream of becomes a desolate wasteland you walk through, colours loosing their beautiful energies. Bound up in fury undulating under the skin a sound ripples in. i don't want to be blind to even the sunset. But i can't care and exist, i can't love and have love be a lie. It destroys the beauty that is so fragile i have inside. It makes a mockery of every romantic phrase i have uttered leaving me wordless, soundless, careless in a world that rejects me. i say why have i been rejected? why is it that there are some who are loved and others rejected? Left as it were on a metaphorical stone scrabing away skin to see what is under... isn't it the same as every human being? The tissues, the pinks... But there is some factor missing. Is it lodged painfully in my psyche? The factor that says to love is to die and i die all the time. So i try to kill my love. In my mind that is. Because i have not been in a place of time where love was uncluttered by lie. Or if i have i was blinded. By the deceit that has rolled down the mountains of my birth and beyond that...to the strife that has been always in the womb. And now i say, my womb, i do not have time for you. i do not want to birth, i do not want to bring anyone else into my chaotic existance, they leave so easily. And i scream incoherently in my head how did i let this happen? Because i know better, i see my reality etched into everything, every grain of wood i see it there in the flaws that come in starkly. i see my flaws which i cannot change. My body in its decomposing state. My past a labyrinth of pain that no one dare walk through and that's ok. i understand. i never asked you to walk through it though! i never asked. But theystill go. Crystallized on the side of the river my tears hang hollow in the interior of my eyes. i will not drain, i would not appear so weak. i keep these secrets, what was i thinking? That i could trust? That i could be loved? As i am? With this searing soul? i am all at once too aware. i take myself, i fold her in like an asian mat, folds and folds of fabric and bamboo spintering the sound because i am not careful. No one else is careful why should i be? It is just me. i am a disposable thing. i shudder involentarily. Inside me my womb is bleeding. A fire fierce red that both calms and alarms because it goes on far too long. But i don't care almost, i can almost convince myself i don't care.
why should i care? no one else does.
i shrink in shadow in silhoette. No one will know. It gives me a secret smile when i think No. No one will know.

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