When I was young it mattered less. I was mad, insane, and disillusioned about reality, but it didn't matter as much. Starved, misunderstood, picked upon, and mildly lonely, but
it didn't matter as much.
We were all little piece of food on the board table. Older kids were hands, teachers mouths. The president was God, but none of us cared about him. We were all hypocrites was the thing. One time during recess I stood on the field looking down in the grass at the entire word there was. Dreaming. Waking up. falling back to sleep and dreaming again. I couldn't escape creating standards. If I ignored them awake I'd unconsciously set them in my dreams.
Dreaming of escape from every facet or reality. The sky went first, blue ripped away to reveal the entire celestial system before my eyes. Masses of stars, gasses, suns, ringed planets, grappling as time flew by. Each shutter of my eye lashes the life time of eternity. And infinity in a second.
I couldn't curse. I was chained. But it didn't matter. God existed and I could talk to him, but I became friends with Lucifer first.
That part of my life has no words to accompany it but strong trust. I'm sorry but my tongue is bitten. Speech crippled. There's nothing else left. I would have answered, I promise I would have answered. I sat down ready to take it out but I fell back into it. It swallowed me whole, and I was surrounded by it; the thought and pure conscious perception.
It was important; I bit my tongue many times, scratched my knees and elbows, wore black socks and let my mom comb my hair. My shorts were high, my shirt tucked in. It was important, but it didn't matter as much then.
How could I take it seriously? I wasn't suppose to survive.
I was meant to be ageless; I was meant to wake up early.
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