Oh, holy spirit?
I witnessed a girl being possessed -not by madness but by the holy spirit. She danced wildly, with no regard for the world outside the shell of her body.
Such unrestrained passion seized my gaze, drawn to those who lost all meaning of composure. And as the fire burned out, reality entered once more. What remains of you outside your passions?
I face disappointment at the realization that people outside their ardent emotions are mediocre. They expose the hypocrisy found in human nature after they forget the values they once danced wildly for.
So, is your character strong enough to radiate beyond fleeting emotions?
Nudity & Divinity
Whenever I let myself go, I condemn myself for being a human being. It feels like I have been forcefully stripped naked in front of a crowd.
And so, I make a run for it and disappear into solitude. Hoping to clothe myself with pretty words and deluded personas —to make up for being undressed.
Beneath the clothes, though, I thought I was wrestling with my character, but tragedy after tragedy, I slowly realized I was fighting faith. And which mortal has ever won against his destiny?
And what if the divine are simply observers of a grand presentation? With the world as the stage and us its actors. A drama that they enjoy as they feast -fulfilling their heavenly appetite.
If so, I like to think that my guardian angel watches my life as if it’s a car crash in slow motion. A horror and an inevitable disaster.
Heart to mind
My heart speaks —no, it screams! “Why do you harm me, cursed mind? Must you be so skeptical of everything?! Are vices the only way to mute you? Please be quiet and listen to me for once.”.
I weep as I indulge in my vices, while, my mind calmly replies with a tone as cold as ice, “What horrifies me most is deluding myself from the truth. I crave truth as if its an itch I cannot reach, a sweet fruit I climb for -only to realize it is bitter. Still, even if truth is distasteful, there is beauty in its genuinity.”.
I can’t seem to get my brain to work, it goes against my own desires. Then complains about it.
“Pitiful, pitiful, pitiful boy. How much more aching are you willing to tolerate?”
“Many more!”
“It is called pity for a reason. You have dug yourself a pit then complain about how much you have to climb to escape the depths you have made.”
Momentary peace is all I have to offer to myself. A fleeting calm is all I can manage.
You wretched thoughts, you inevitable night. Starry stars that stare back at me; cold night that disembowels me.
How much more will this darkness consume me? Repulsive darkness!
I have enough chaos to start a revolution against the night. Enough noise to wake the slumber of humanity.
But I lack even the strength to move beyond my bed.
Bettering through worsening
She looked at me with those dark eyes of hers. I thought to myself, “What’s with these vices, you ask? What’s with these thoughts, I reply.”
Out of an urge to release my thoughts, I ask, “How much more of these vices can I abuse?”
She blinks and tilts her head slightly, then replies, “None at all.”
“Then how much more of these thoughts?”
“There are better ways to deal with them.”
With a deep inhale, disappointed at her response, I press further, “Tell me, what are my thoughts to begin with?”
She pauses, her expression careful, almost hesitant. Then, softly, she says, “I do not know.”
I frown, exhaling slowly. “Then what do you know about dealing with them?”
I inhale—a counterfeit version of air, one that keeps me alive differently from the way oxygen does. But just like it, killing me slowly.
After all, are we not all breathing air from a world of degradation?
mindoffonsy 