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Wednesday, May 02, 2012

Demons, Obliviously

Category: Life

Demons of the past, demons in the future, demons on the edge of whatever sanity I can muster.

I dealt with some, fooled myself into thinking others are slain, and am too painfully aware that most are just hovering around the edges of the blinds I have drawn around myself, waiting to come in like so many hungry and mindless zombies that have for only drive the thirst that only my shattered and scattered soul can quench.

Obliviosity is not a word, but my mind keeps insisting that it is.

As long as I hang on to some kind of happy go lucky reality, the tower will stand. I try not to see the cracking mortar, or the age-old bricks, I consciously drape the crumbling structure of my reality with glitter and rainbows and sunshine, oh my!

I hold on to my cascading curls like Samson to his mane, I choose to ignore the silvery threads that tell a story I refuse to hear. Denial is my friend, the shadows are at bay, at least while I frolic in the light of every new day. Ignore the dreaded chimes and distant bells of awareness and pretend I don’t care, try to convince my former self that the pain isn’t there. What’s lost will be found, what could have been is made better by what will be, I made my bed…and so I sleep.

The dream is reality, and reality yearns to dream. Oblivion is more than bliss, it’s some kind of sanity, some higher power that helps me be. Being is the new me, I think therefore I am and all that, except the less I think and the better I breathe. The wee, dark hours of the night, the crude and painful moments of awareness, are forcefully pushed away to make room for the better, happier, new reality that the demons cannot yet claim.

But demons are devious, Poe could’ve told you that, they can stuff you in a coffin and leave you to fight for you last dying breath, a breath that doesn’t care which reality you go back to, as long as you can live. Ravens haunt my every fleeting flutter, shadows speak of forgotten dreams and damp mausoleums where the bones of ancestral memories yearn to rise like a million phoenixes, spitting fire and feathers and blowing up the stupid thrills of mundane fantasies of the Harry Potter sort.

For some, it’s too late. For more, I’m oblivious. For myself, I am Brutus stabbing my Caesar in the back, running on foot because I’ve lost my chariot, trying to hide from retribution while claiming credit for the great gift I have offered my unknowing humanity. Disturbed souls attract, or so they claim, or so I claim, and so in the end, I expect that my former, soon to be dismissed self and my future self will some day sit down to a latte and reminisce on all the stupid and great things that I have been, while my present self keeps concentrating on mindless tasks to make sure that oblivion prevails.

I don’t know how long the past can haunt me. Until I finally silence the incessant ringing of ghosts’ calls, I suppose. What scares me is the haunting yet to come, the demons we create along the way, unwittingly, obliviously, and which in time will claim their place as the demons of the present and the forgotten. Where does it stop? Maybe with acceptance, maybe never. Maybe the answer lies within oneself. Maybe we are our own demons, forever learning from the best, forever lurking in the shadows of happiness.

Posted by StarLizard on 05/02 at 04:55 PM | Permalink
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