What is this thing? I think they call it a heart, but it’s barely beating and it hasn’t gotten me very far. As a matter of fact, I haven’t taken more than one step away from the broken human being I was four and a half years ago. The arteries are splitting down middle and capillaries have begun to burst. With this red-hot blood of love spitting and spinning everywhere, you think someone would slip on the spin art of my heart. But no, I stand too mature for the majorities and too small in physical form to get that double take. I could never truly apologize for not fitting in, but rather I have to thank you for being so pitiful and close minded, people. I am glad to live amongst the lost and completely corrupted.
And to those who look past my daunting emotionalism and slightly uneasy smile, the beautiful flaws in which only someone digging deep would ignore, you still aren’t very far but rather have just touched one of the hairs among this forever tan skin. And to those who get to dig a little deeper, I will forever have these walls of a castle so tightly secure and you can thank the blue-eyed, blond-haired nymphs in which I have had to endure for too long now. But I’ll never look back to them, not as much I look forward to you; the person who digs the deepest, putting my sureness of life on the brink of emotional base jumper status, bringing me to my knee with more than just diamonds but a throat full of song and what a beautiful one to sing.
Until there comes the day in which I can gently take the shovel from your hands, you beautiful thing who I’ll be so proud of, I will continue to secretly enjoy these moments of self loathing. More so, I will enjoy the fact that I can safely say no to anything I want with a smile gleaming so bright upon my face and that includes the drugs, the drinks, the sex, the thoughts of her, and the fear to follow. So quietly screaming into the drum of my ear; a fallen angel who’s own ear refused my answer to life. So quiet…the rustling of leaves as I drag it into the woods of my memories. So quiet; the sound of such potent liquid pouring amongst her disgusting pores. So quiet; the ash as it begins to rise, rebounding off the tips of branches as it climbs the pale air into the never-ending skies.
So quiet; my mind with you nowhere to be found.
-Mike Detelj
hear,hear. that is brilliant