Free

A Collaborative Effort with Kare

*Musical Selection is Roisin Murphy’s Rama Lama (Bang Bang)*

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Image for post
Courtesy of Pinterest

My body released me, said it was time to move, get going, race…

Like you can, like you know you should.
And since I find it best at times to listen to my body, I am moving… But, what gives? Something wishes to halt my endeavor.

Personal blockades are my specialty. I am in the way of my way out. Standing firm in the quarrels of myself versus myself. Who is going to win this dance?

Here before you, you see, flaunted material unafraid to shed shrivelled skin.
*shakes it loose*

It is a goddamned war zone in my head and I am slowly bleeding out.

Like an endless stream, red liquid flows relentlessly from the corners of my eyes. With every part of me that braves the wrath of the sword, the deep red tickles down in thick meaty chunks swallowing up my eyes, creating a darkness greater than the deepest of nights. It permanently plasters itself on my vision sockets as if they were mere blank canvases desperate for color and shape, naturally blinding me. I am a walking masterpiece at the mercy of everyone else’s interpretation. They desperately try to figure me out, as if I were a complex puzzle they need to accurately solve, they put pieces that seem to fit and remove ones that seem uneven.

I am not broken, don’t you see? I am completely wrecked. I am beyond redemption. I have lost all sense of reality. I am at the brink of completely losing my sanity.

Fighting lone figures lurking in the shadows. I am all tapped out, I’ve been emptied to the last drop, turned upside down for any remnants. I am a well in the Sahara.

Hollow, completely empty and on the verge of collapse. I get a visit from my special childhood friend, I am resting in the shade completely knackered from battling a lone demon earlier, he offers his hand and leads me to the river. There’s a powerful weapon in the depths of your wild imagination, he says. It’s a secret only you know, a special tool meant solely for your pleasure, with it you can print an entirely different synopsis.

It is a goddamned war zone in my head and I am slowly bleeding out.

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Courtesy of The Feminist Wire

Watch the glass window shatter and crumble into little fickle unimportant pieces. It’s all an illusion! See. Goddamnit!

I have made him angry. I am all alone. There’s a stinging pain in the place my heart used to be. The red liquid has shifted from my eyes, it would seem! I can see. A sword has dug squarely into my flesh like a knife in butter. The sight of it is numbing. As I plummet down, I realize, I am not scared.

My eyelids are heavy. I can’t keep them open any longer. I need to rest. I am sleepy. I’ll just close my eyes for a minute. There’s an endless hallway. A great white light shines through me. Beyond me. In a moment of clarification, I realize I am not dying.

And now that I am free, what is it that you would like to do with me?
What more of me could you possibly take?
There is nothing left but bones and marrow

And that, you simply cannot have.

Author’s Note: Over the next month, I will be selecting some of Medium’s youngest and finest writers to collaborate with each week. They need to be heard. They support us. We must support them, Kare was ninth, Kate Comstock, you are ready.

Written by

I’m more than breath & bones, I’m nectar in waiting — Owner ACG •Editor PSILY •Writing for the cosmos. •https://acorneredgurl.com

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