I feel uneasy today. I hope it is a passing phase. But the prompt I chose reflects it. Let it remain on record like a journal.
There is one picture and two quotes. Choose any one, or choose all three, and create whatever you can. I would like to see a simplification – in the form of a story, poem, anecdote, memory, picture …. Yes, a good picture that illustrates the point is also welcome.
Funny how they only see the flames, not the body inside.
Is there a body inside? Am I real, have I once been real or is this just a memory of some of being, planted inside this body which exists – or not – depending on the day? The hour? The moment of being?
My soul shivers. A wadded up ball of soul, tossed aside. Nothing.
There is no more pain. No more fear. Not since I dumped the gasoline over my head, rank smell invading my nose and eyes and mouth.
No more screams. No more. Anything.
I am a black man now. I see the other world.
I see the truth.
Come see me burn. Watch the end of the world in my blackened eyeballs, the curling of limbs. The death I died long ago but, just now, found.
Reblogged this on Reena Saxena and commented:
Intense ….
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The intensity leaves me speechless.
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