scars

scars.
i like.
for they have meaning.
markers of past, reminders that last.

scars of birth; marks of light; mother's milk. progeny pride.
pristine slice, precious brand, stained skin, shrinking gangrene.

scars.
i loathe.
for they mean nothing.
signs of vileness, symbols of evilness.

shreds of mind, eyes of dread; tyrannous truth, damaging dread.
burning shrapnel, bullet tumbling, tearing tissue, ripping reason.

it's about life, and the push to death...

it's about reverence to the clawing of high priestess energy, as she demands tribute for her life-imbuing presence.

it's about acceptance of the loving chokehold of sorceress pain, search for respite from her merciless abandon.

it's about total devotion to reverend sister exhaustion, complete submission to the lashings of her breathless whip.

it's about humility, begging at the feet of reverend mother hunger, as she teasingly toys with my famished consciousness.

it's about discipline, enduring enchantress delirium's gentle wrath as she withdraws my fix of H, O, Na, K with a series of strokes to the delete key of life.

it's about my search for the elusive light that guides and inflames, frustrates, and dismays…for she toys with me, knows i will never reach her--i am no Buddha, Bodhisattva, or otherwise…i am not worthy despite the hopeless righteousness of my quest.