"That was one of your best articles Josey," she said. Should be pleasing. It means only one thing for me though. That this one will be a crap. Peak was reached and now I'm slipping down. Slowly, the way is little too way long. I'm leaving my last self far behind, transforming like the snake that used to lie on your chest when you were falling asleep. Tangled between two bodies, getting rid of the skin is hurting me. It hurts a tiny bit more every single time. But hey ho, even when I take all of my brutal self-expectations and lower them and cut them on the half, I still drive 150 on the motorway of change.
I remember now, I swore I'll never give up on human race. I've to say that people don't make it easy for me. Especially lately I'm losing my faith, losing my clothes, losing men, losing home, losing my hair, losing in general. The only thing I really need to loose is temper, but that's still, the only standing stone in the circle. Only one that rest. The first brick of the tower. Buried in the dust of time. Too far below to turn around. Rotten to the bone. But. Blooming every time I touch it with my lips. Forbidden like a wolfsbane.
Am I losing so? Or only moving through the structure behind the system. Writing down the book of life, chapter by chapter, watching my steps, asking what's the craic. Still with all of you, forgotten, whom I mentioned in articles on my old rusted blog. Too bright a light to let go now. It is obvious that the whole story, my story, begun donkey years ago. And I'm not sure at all when did my magick make that creepy decision to switch from the spiritual journey of a lovely girl into the series that would not be a shame even for Netflix.
Those shapeshifts of mine are getting rough and everyone who read Hemlock Grove would not hesitate to tell you: don't do that during the wrong moon. Oh feck it. I'm leaving in the morning, white glued hair, blood behind my nails. Forsake the empathy - your pain, my gain. Take me back my friend, take me back on home. I'm begging the allfather. Talking to crows, sitting on the top of the hill, watching the sunset like I used to do with my beloved dad when I was a kid. Still feel the tickling of the last ray of sunshine on my cheeks.
In the end of the day I only have to remind myself.
Stay human tonight.
I remember now, I swore I'll never give up on human race. I've to say that people don't make it easy for me. Especially lately I'm losing my faith, losing my clothes, losing men, losing home, losing my hair, losing in general. The only thing I really need to loose is temper, but that's still, the only standing stone in the circle. Only one that rest. The first brick of the tower. Buried in the dust of time. Too far below to turn around. Rotten to the bone. But. Blooming every time I touch it with my lips. Forbidden like a wolfsbane.
Am I losing so? Or only moving through the structure behind the system. Writing down the book of life, chapter by chapter, watching my steps, asking what's the craic. Still with all of you, forgotten, whom I mentioned in articles on my old rusted blog. Too bright a light to let go now. It is obvious that the whole story, my story, begun donkey years ago. And I'm not sure at all when did my magick make that creepy decision to switch from the spiritual journey of a lovely girl into the series that would not be a shame even for Netflix.
Those shapeshifts of mine are getting rough and everyone who read Hemlock Grove would not hesitate to tell you: don't do that during the wrong moon. Oh feck it. I'm leaving in the morning, white glued hair, blood behind my nails. Forsake the empathy - your pain, my gain. Take me back my friend, take me back on home. I'm begging the allfather. Talking to crows, sitting on the top of the hill, watching the sunset like I used to do with my beloved dad when I was a kid. Still feel the tickling of the last ray of sunshine on my cheeks.
In the end of the day I only have to remind myself.
Stay human tonight.