So much is going on. I see it in everyone's eyes. It drips from their tounges (as their ears bleed). I bleed too. But nothing can harm me where I'm at. If you stop feeling, then you stop worrying. Nothing slows you down. You don't even notice the glass that you step on, barefoot, while you run from things. It's no problem. What's another scar?

Soon they form pretty pictures that you can frame and put on display. Or put them to music and broadcast them to the nations. Make a million dollars with this hit you've created. And eveyone bobs their head and smiles, like they understand. But really, if you think about it, they do. Everyone's been burned. The bandages give them away. I don't even bother with that anymore. I just let it all flow. I bleed out this frustration.

But sometimes I still slip up. I'm imperfect, like everyone else. I fail to realize or understand the weight of my actions. I kill, I hate, I destroy. I've set this world on fire, and danced on the ashes. And with my blackened feet I walk across the stars, leaving prints wherever I go. Leaving my mark. Evidence that I was. But after a while, all that would fade. I'd be forgotten just like everyone else. Reality, turned to myth, turned to darkness. So instead, I'll save myself from this darkness.

I'll forget about it all: the cuts, the bandages, the music, the stars. . . and instead, I'll focus on what matters. Heavenly hands will extend to grasp. I'll close my own hands and pray.

- posted by Jonathan@ 6:28 PM