Monday, July 24, 2017

Eyes without a face

In the soul centre of my wicked intentions there are derelicts of my broken psyche, eyes without a face… rapid tendencies granting me lapse of memory, seduction in forgetfulness; and this is not because I’m absent minded, I’m just easily distracted by abstractions of my objective reality, when most of them never wear any panties. It’s my own fault that I can be seduced and left beyond repair… then again, I need no corrections, I’m already guilty enough, I’ve crossed all lines of soul maintenance… to be more precise, if the apparent line is here, where I sit at this very moment, I’m somewhere safe, far south of the border, some place nice in sunny Mexico.

All these infidelities gather and nest in the simplicities of the complexity which I represent, so that I can be left lost in my own ignorance, only to stand sharp for even more betrayals; and this is not because I lack loyalty and sense of belonging. It’s my own fault that I can be easily confused and left amazed in a temporary astonishment for every two legged personal hell which crosses my route to nowhere, wearing heels and looking just great in a light summer dress.

I should be tortured by these mixed emotions, by my contradictions in appearances. A sensible human being would say that I should’ve learned something, but all I’ve learned from these derelicts of my broken psyche is only to respect that dark part of me… eyes without a face.

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