The true face of tragedy is unveiled after its violent birth.
This face is lined with harsh details, like that of an old farmer.
Congregation of wrinkles and milk cartons adorned with pictures of teeth.
Expressions of loss and mourning. Cheeks wet with the ebb and flow of tears.
The face of tragedy marries the light once the realization dawns that life goes on post tragedy.
Something so terrible, so earth shattering, so abso-fucking-lutely impossible.
Your life as you know it stops then and there.halt.period.end.
But life in general marches on.continuation.looking forward&marching forward.
That is adding insult to injury. That is the devil’s sweet&sour voice whispering sweet nothings to nothing in particular on a particular day in january 3 years ago.
And again today you come to me. Riding on the wind like a salem witch engulfed in skeletal structure. The smell of sulfur on the air.
And again..you whisper. Your breath rapes my ear. You nest inside me like a crippled crow. Laying bastard eggs in the name of reenactment for the sake of nostalgia.
Black and white kitten. Eyes like honey. Strolling briskly on a sunbeam.
Violence like a freight train. Turning a field of grass into a red carpet premiere. Premiering a film by Brian de Palma edited in washed out toxic green. About a victim. About the countless others like him. About their fans. About a hitman. Who’s endeavors end tragically. Who’s breath smells of madness and his face is of tragedy.
How can life go on? After so much.Damage.
How can I smile? After I have been gutted daily, on an hourly base, by a gut-maggot who sure likes his job.
Isolated end of the world scenarios.
Snowglobes imploding in a snowglobe factory.
Everything outside of the Plexiglas globe?Unafected.Uninterested.
On the inside of each and every “random christmas scenario” snowglobe?Armageddon.Period.Stop.Over&Out.Buhbye.Ciao.
I have died. Over and over.Andover.
I have lived to see you march on without missing a beat. Without tripping.
A stern, strong walk.Onwards.Neverbackwards.
And this is how I am loved. This is how I am celebrated. This is my legacy.
Martyrs&Victims all.
The true face of tragedy looks allot like mine from this angle.
Whaddayaknow??
*chuckle*
*cough*
*static*
