The Core

There is a growing awareness in me of my own uncleanliness.An unclean spirit.Impurity of the original kind.I have tried to be blind to it.It has caught up with me,in a big way.Restlessness has abated and morphed into something more placid.A sense of belonging with the yuck that I feel.Something in me astonishes me.I demand too much of an integration.I wanted to be bad to the core,and that seemed an easier task than being completely good.And somehow the work isn't finished.The core isn't corroded yet.It won't.I have tried my best.It won't take over the rust of disgust.It stands clean and shining,a dot amidst an ocean of filth.And the beauty of that tiny dot is what hurts.I have come to realise that wiping myself of the face of existance isn't the way to destroy that speck.It won't budge.Death somehow is not THE END.It's another circle.A vicious one.I can't live unclean and for me to be completely numb,I need to be completely unclean.I would rather write a poem on this tearing apart,but am too devoid of any inspiration.People like me are dangerous,but to whom? I always wondered.I am a bad influence maybe.I need a break..a certain dissociation from 'life'.I would want to return.When and in what form I know not.It won't be a rebirth,as I am not particularly amused by the idea of suicide.It's time consuming and involves a lot of variables and somehow there are people who would really miss me,and somehow I am not THAT selfish to hurt them.I need the solitude of oblivion.I am so oblivious to it in the end.The constant self talk must be replaced by a frozen silence.The perfect idea to live forever would be to live in a frozen state.Life is so beautiful.And so is ice.

~~~in my imgination unbirdled wild
oh how like a way- ward child
that smilingly smashes all his toys
world after world i create and destroy~~~