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Vignette – Mother

What worth is forgiveness when that look in her eyes will always scream, linger, and remind? A barrier that exists beyond flesh and blood, that betrays her embittered disappointment.

We always circle around it, bypass after bypass. We love and hate equally. Never confronting the truth- trapped by an eternity of passiveness. She keeps me crushed against her, isolated and sheltered from the painfully chimerical world.

But, I’ve always loved vice invariably- always in need of corruption and placelessness. I have wasted away in their absence, in secret I have faded. And the indestructible control she holds is a stake driven through me, leaving me mangled and caged.

Finding heaven in sin is the only way I can salvage my identity. She hopes I’ll always think that the picture of life she has painted- an illusion of living- will be my only reality. An illusion of love.

Captivity is the reason why Death has fallen from my weathered lips in vain.

I’ve experienced nothing. Living has been confined to a crystal cage of infinite reflections and inescapable, wasted time. I’ve only breathed air like secondhand smoke spilling in ribbons from a stranger’s mouth. To a point so devoid of feeling that I did what I could to mutilate the innocence, to trash the false perfection.

My pixel soldiers were the closest things I knew to freedom. Freedom always burnt and bitter. I hoped it would poison me from within.

For so long I thought in inexhaustible borrowed ideas. So desperate that depression became a novelty; where every second I stood still was an ultimatum.

I’m tired and so unalive. Reduced to nothing more than a long and burdensome string of bland excuses.

Pc: Tissu velours fluide impression digitale – Ma Petite Mercerie

 

 

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