Malady

Malady
by: Jamie

The rhythm of life surrounds me. The steady pulse from the Mother echoes through the womb of the Earth. She bears witness to the deformities of the Circle, broken. She adjusts herself in an attempt to regain the balance once maintained by mankind.

I view the world around me through the eyes of ignorance in her purist form...releasing herself through me...a radiance that beats through my very existence. Beating. pulsating. Neverending. She comfots me withher beautiful scenery...but WHY???? Comfort is for the imperfect souls- the weak - the vulnerable! How dare I think I should need comfort! Raised with a stiff upper lip and skin of leather I was! To accept comfort, is to sheath the only pride remaining in me. I do not deserve comfort.

Society is relentless - never ceasing to assault my person...backing me up into recluse. I am but a composer of my own sorrow - a tragedian - my very own author and I have now completed my nightmare. Society cannot punish me, I simply will not allow it. Miserable I make my every day - creating for myself and intense reality...that I do not want.

Escape! I need to escape! Melting from the mind outward...the dreams..the thoughts...the conscious - all bleeding from the sockets of my eyes and flowing thus from my vision - clouding my view of reality. Day after day, misery is my companion, a self created asylum inside my mind...thirteen long years of malignant torture...

It had me. It fooled me. It blinded me. No mercy - my own mind - my own predator - my very own shadow. All my fears and anger-guilt...shame...everything was deranged and malicious...deadly mad and breathing in nothing less than heinous thoughts. Chaos drifts pasts and cloaks itself around me. Darkness consumes the fathoms of my heart...tearing myself apart from the inside out. The dwelling place of a little blue-eyed girl...destroyed and then burned...chased away by the heathen woman residing in this flesh. The little girl murdered and left to rot in the heat of the present evil...and her soul left scarred on that ether of time, replaying it's lonliness over and over like a broken record...

Death of innocence is never easy, nor it is ever forgotten. Guilt plays in the mind..boiling over time..and then suicide. Suicide of the mind. Death to the soul. It becomes me...and i...become it. I welcome death. I caress it. I contain it. It fights for its freedom but I've become too strong. It relaxes and lays at my feet...obediently: Death.

Within the Bardo I can see many selves - crystal clear vision. My heart pure as the most flawless diamond...my mind overflowing with the mother's sweet wisdom. Memories of the before-self...a genuine sycophant. I've been now inoculated with her seed bearing the inscription of my path and an insatiable thirst for knowledge prevents me from remaining listless...to think that at one point I was that temerarious...a prig - plucked out of the weeds...ah god - the noxious weed garden of mundane, torment infested by the many irreparable maladies...collections of misery..now lost forever...in time...