SoilOh you're tired. So very awfully tired as you lay down on the ground,on the soaked soil,your fingernails have dirt underneath them and your glasses have water droplets on them,as if time has been stopped for those specific ones. The rain pours down,seemingly as though the sky is going to open up in a rift,cause a big,unearthly rift through the galaxy,and eat up everything that there is to eat. The soil has never been kinder,has only ever gotten you dirty,has only ever allowed the beautiful things to grow,on top of it. So,what has changed? Have you finally become quillafied as something to be remembered in a photograph as someone swipes through their Gallery and sighs as they remember the day they took the picture? Or is it finally time for your body to melt onto the soil,to become fertiliser. Is it finally time that everything you ever were,did or have been finally gets picked off you and taken out of you,by force? By interrogation? As you sit there on your knees,a silver chain wrapped around your neck so tightly that you can't be bothered to breathe,as the angel berates you for everything? Or for nothing at all? What should you have done? What shouldn't you have done? You can't know now,unfortunately. Your body is in despair,being tortured with the thoughts of its organs being taken out one by one,until,oh they've reached the last;the wretched soaked,bloody thing your call a heart. Your body is decompressing,your mind is at ease. As if it thinks you deserve this,do you? Maybe you do. For all the things you have done,you never managed to avoid the one thing you never wanted to be. At ease with your own consciousness,at east with your own cruelty. How did you come to this? How did you manage to ruin something it took the stars for it to align? They held hands on the sacred day,finally choosing to cease fire at each other,for this one tiny thing. What was it? Or right. You,being birthed. You've gone and even ruined that,by ever holding a gun to your mouth. The stars danced that day,danced and sang a high pitched song made by a flaming,dazzling fire that seemed to consume all,eventually,the fire calmed down as a small star was born. The rain continues on,more fierce than ever,lighting strikes down,and the church's old,tainted glass seem to have taken it personally,they refuse to let any sunshine in. The stars are forbidden from dancing and singing for another small,insignificant,human being,ever again. Is that what you wanted?
S
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