Secrets of a Decaying Socialite

Broken is who and what I am. Every day I see the pieces of my armor falling to the floor. I am that tragic secret whispered among the thorns. An embalmed mannequin morphing into a rotting corpse.  A piece of trash waiting for Sanitation to pick me up and deposit me on the refuse heap. The Reaper comes for his Harvest as the Char Man makes his daily delivery to Sanford & Son. Elizabeth I’ll see you soon.

Homicide

When did the explosion happen? Who knows? Because I think it was really an implosion. Being a Nightmare waiting to be born. Somebody put a  dent in my universe which I don’t know how to repair.

Save your prayers. Save Your Prayers for stones on the ground. Each prayer causes me to die a little each second of every day.  Wash away the guilt and shame so embedded that you need to kill parts of your brain to live.  

Documenta Dementia.

Let me go back to the nobody I’ve always been. One with nothing to prove.

I am not mortar and stone.  I am bubbling flesh bursting at the seams. In my dreams I’m someone else. Somebody else. An important person. A person with a mission, passion and purpose. Going up in the air ready to crash into the next mountain peak. Brought low. Brought back to earth. Reality.

Birthing a mummified child. Dear Dead One How long were you within me? He just kept stabbing at my web of lies whilst becoming entangled within its sticky threads. Pain Follows even to the most secret hiding places.

Thank you and please enjoy my Triggers.