The Cost of My Wings or How to Change Your Gods
Author: SageSpot
Filed in: life, memories, sickness, demons, anguish, wings, godsSickness began clinging to my internal potential,
Closely followed by madness and fruitless motions.
I had beginning to wither.
A rind with no redeeming succulent fruit.
Contemplation only brought forth demons -
Monsters that would not let me surrender.
So I fought with waves of useless anguish at this thing - uncontrollable.
I was a warrior queen!
Splendid in my violence…
All while the oily darkness slipped ever onward, ever inward.
Towards an unknown future, in a warped body - a new perception.
Fearing conquest, I harvested the flowers my mother had painfully grown,
And I sold those blossoms - so sweet and pale -
Using each petal for another day - another sweet caress of my lover,
Another song with my master,
Another drink for my companions…
A meager chronicle that I could lock away somewhere private and safe…
I spent endless mornings in dazed recollections,
Restless movements, and empty challenges.
Struggle and sacrifice ensuing, but in the end, only injustice prevailed.
And eventually, consciously, I collapsed in surrender…
And what followed, was the private loss of my tattered wings.
My champions brought me roughly into the sunlight, revealing everything.
They were my new Gods.
They ripped the sickness from my loins -
Tugging my dreams, fantasies, and unknown potential out of place.
My body was sliced to reveal a crawling darkness.
It had crept under my skin when no one was looking;
When the future was busy elsewhere.
They told me it was scaly. And dragon blood red.
Shiny splendid in its horror.
And the pain! The torment roared through my skull like a thousand priests
Determined in persecution.
Screams ripped from my mind into an endless vacuum of sound.
Crescendos where symbols slammed like fully loaded cisterns!
Heavily armored machinery that would not enclose me -
That would abandon me.
And with a few slips of thread and a misplaced knot here and there…
It was done.
I was done.
Bloody silence remained.
My body was unable to carry my visions.
My dreams were to heavy.
My secret fetishes to great a burden for the flesh to carry.
This illness, once residing so quietly and sweetly, had finally consumed my future.
A predicted course that I could hardly cherish.
But to have it ripped from my façade?
To have such a brutal conclusion and such an unjust decision
Thrust upon me in the prime of my life?
It seems cruel - so like the daylight to be brazen in its torture.
Later I gazed with morbid curiosity - only to see an irritated sphere of loneliness.
Aggravated dreams jostled with secret fantasies…
Unable to reconcile themselves with their new placement….
And the self doubt uncoiled like a tiny serpent. Growing towards the face of Eve,
Delicately wrapped in tissue paper hopes of worth.
My mind now betrays this soul.
I have been unable to stop this personal loathing
And my memories are confused for the wanting of beautiful wings.
I am barren.
This is my new form of the beautiful forever.
A guilty, desperate, and unending future.
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