I'm not sure exactly as to what I am meant to write here. Surely there should be some forewarned reason or list of literary intent?
I am grossly drawn to the dreary side of human mentality. I love the mundane, apparently boring, aspects of human life. To sit beside someone for however many hours watching recurrent television is, to me, bliss. Why?
I like to feel the oxyen beneath the ribcage. I imagine the breathing human apparatus inside the web of flesh, the operational calcium, the sternum heaving heavily outward. I can see the pink and heat of lungs and air. The heart is sending life to every external. Between my legs the pulse in his thigh is beating. Our veins collide as they stretch for space, forcing their barrier outward into one another. I feel nauseated and soothed in the same moment. Tentatively grabbing for comfort, imagining thickening blood and blue tracts beneath the delicate skin of the inner wrist.
Such soft comfort. The pulse in the forehead like beating winds on a branch, tangled and furious in a storm.
A hero would not be a hero nor a villain a villain if they had not committed to their actions. Thus whatever I say should be accounted to truly give record of what or who I am. To delete any word would indeed be censorship and who am I to hide the world from my own imagination? What would be the point to speak at all if I weren't to bare all thoughts for the public domain?
I would stand as some icon, some lie, some christchild I could never live up to be.
I am me. I am Mika. Michael. Whoever. I am these bones within muscle within skin, typing at the command of a synapse. I am a thoughtful being. A thoughtless monster.
To be now, to vow....should I utter such words to curse myself as forever being..honest?
Can I really be the vitriol and hate I feel? Can I be as truthful as Honesty itself?
There is so much trouble and danger in bringing out the bad and Good. For one I know I have much faith in humankind; but I, of ill-will intent, am troubled. I feed off negative things that benefit me, such a human infliction. Will I ever overcome selfishness or will it become me? In my search for purity what, what, WHAT will I turn into?
What will I uncover?