I want to rip out this heart of mine. Just plunge into my chest and tear it out of me. I don't need it. What are hearts for, anyway? The pulsating reminder of fragility?
I am slave to my heart; seeking liberation. And that's all I desire, really. All my entire soul craves: boundless liberation from my human condition. I wish to live the way my soul was meant to; wild and free.
And yet I am bound by courtesy, or rather propriety. It's smothering really. And to taste the trickle of freedom, to feel it drip down my tongue like honey, or thicken in my chest like heartache; it's intoxicating. And how is a wild soul to submit to complacency without committing spiritual suicide in doing so? How can I crease these chains further into my flesh without suffering the scars they lace upon the heart?
Yes, it would be simpler, wouldn't it? Settling, they call it. And for good reason. Souls aren't made for settling, they're made for painting the universe and exploding in iridescent splashes of color. It would be a crime against my soul to submit to domesticity.
I suppose it is happiness for some- perhaps many. And maybe I am crafted to stand among the few who counter this preference; this desire for settling. But idle dreams of picket fences and minivans are nightmares to me. A cage chasing after my freedom. A lock and key sculpted by culture to tame the wild heart; to create unison.
But my heart has heard another call; my soul has felt another caress. An awakening of the entire universe blossoming inside my core. So much to explore, to investigate, to experience.
Unlike so many others, I do not regret the infinity of space, in fear of it making me small. I rather devour it's offerings with every atom of my being in starstruck awe of being a part of something so infinite. It is impossible to feel insignificant when knowing that we are all made of stars. We are the biologic consequence of cosmic death and creation.
So keep your picket fences and your minivans and your domesticity- I have the universe.
YOU ARE READING
Restless Things
Thơ ca"I didn't realize what damage heat can do To flesh so bare So I poured you out all over me Until I was undone And shaking But after the fire has gone All that's left is ash and wilted skin So now I know Better" -The Things You Left Behind (Poetry, P...
