Cold blue fire
Intense Gleams – Passionate Streaks
The other day I caught myself reminiscing on memories from 8 years back. Eight.
Just now, while brushing my teeth my mind teetered to a house party I was once caught in, back in the days of substance use and abuse. Where I met an interesting fellow who so much hated the police that he strove to become one.
And it hit me; what if the common response of what-do-ya-wanna-be-when-ya-grow question was an occupation you currently despised – under the premonition that your filling it would change it entirely? To suffer is to understand.
Grateful yet placated. News of a distant part’s – ebbing somewhere in my subconscious – FREEDOM. Years of tribulations and the judge’s gavel slams their fate. Not wooden, not coarse, but an inclusion to the society. One whose shutters are swinging open with a hinge close, offering the opportunity to block out the sun, yet all the while serving as a reminder of the sun’s existence. Why would anyone want to be of service? Is this not a crude and outdated term; subservience is not in fashion.
<– A statement my last relationship ended upon.
My devotion to this microcosm of injustice, this case, was like a mouse running from its fate in slow motion. Fur stuck to the glue on the trap, yet incessantly trying to yank itself free. Escape from one trap does not signify salvation. The world is a minefield for the mouse; we are mice – are traps are complex social constructions.
Consciousness flickers like a broken light bulb; inefficient, yellow never green.
What kind of hope is there when fate’s galvanized by the gavel? Entrusted in the hand of a power hungry – noise craving lunatic. If I lost myself to black&blues in your crowd – threw myself wantonly at the expense of a drunken recognition would I be able to hold your quivering hand as the gavel slammed?
Figuratively, my hand was interlocked with yours the whole time. Literally,I busily paper-jam my hands so as to inhibit them from flicking the switch – and shedding light on this in actuality.
In actuality, it’s a game we both know of – and my sanity is a game in itself.
Self preservation is unlike the obsession with private property – the strings are imaginative, the contract subject to change, it’s value is nonexistent, it’s Free. Like Me, and now like You too… Welcome back.
