Your chainsaw voice has dismembered the last vestiges of sanity in my human shell severed the final tendon connecting compassion to my heart Your rusty-grater words have shredded the final ounce of patience in my once limitless hoard corroded beyond salvage the walls containing my desire to be your ally Your atomic bomb behaviours have irradiated the remaining molecule of hope for your salvation jaded this now impermeable spirit to anything but its own voice.
It is a brutal irony, that as my desire to exit the work-world I so grindingly (yes, that is a word!) and lovingly built grows with a vehement vengeance each day, the place and space for which I pay such a hefty premium to escape to, has been anything but peaceful in the oh-so-limited time I have to enjoy(?) it, of late. The level of human disregard for others in some of my neighbours runs deep, the ridiculous human folly of my most inglorious work-folks, along with our culture’s obscene systems and structures, follow me home for longer and longer stays, and the gargantuan contradiction that is my life continues… on the flip-side, I have, without fail, only ever built anything meaningful, to me, on the foundation of strife, struggle and/or suffering… it appears that a skyscraper is in the making here…
~Marcela: corroded and unchained
March 18, 2018
Writing and original images: All rights reserved.
Chainsaw image from google search.