After You Left

Bones

I guess no one talks about failure. The part where the bubbling milk spills over, and burns over the stove. And all that's left is a strange pungent smell all across the hallway. The rising foam and steam doesn't settle. The underlying flame only makes the situation worse. The entropy accelerates and it all turns to ruin. A charred reality of a morning that rose from the opposite side of the horizon. Why does this occur one wonders? Couldn't the stove be turned down? The rising flame be distracted. So that the shores calm and it remains unspoiled. But its so much more complicated. Humans are made of cells so intricately bound to each other by a million connections of nerve endings and neurotransmitters. On best days, every molecule is rooting for you. Every shock is absorbed. Every trial taken with strife. 

Patience becomes a virtue. And forgiveness tastes as sweet as honey. And forgiveness tastes as sweet as honey. On other days forgetting the past scars the tongue with bitter taste of burning. And that pill can no longer be swallowed. You choke on it and it all becomes a huge mess of vomit and tears and scalded skin and braised wounds and ugly bruises. It hurts to breathe. A pain so unbearable, it becomes impossible to imagine living another moment in the same reality. The mind screams and the tongue quietens. The same pendulum of thoughts moves to and forth until it no longer knows when to stop. Creating a spiral of clouded thoughts the end seems to be more comforting yet it doesn't arrive. There's more air to be breathed honey. You sigh a long, wistful exhale. And gather parts of yourself.

This place is called 'rock bottom.' 

And settling in this abyss I wonder.

How did I get here?

Why am I this way? Am I different? Is something wrong with me?

After night of sleepless deliberation, I conclude. NO. This world is unkind. And it takes people who are kind for granted. It pushes people to their limits. It shows less acceptance and more rejection. It doesn't empathise. It keeps using you till you run empty. It takes you to the edge of the cliff and then watches you fall. It provides you with inflammable refuge and then watches you burn. It takes away your uniqueness and then calls it uniformity. It doesn't celebrate your achievements and only overshadows your heights by their inevitable fall. It takes you down with their own negativity and then chants loudly, 'you've gone mad.' What burns in the centre of this social circus are carcases of people who kept trying to escape. Until they couldn't anymore. Or till time outlived their bones.