MMXVII (2017)
A Story to start your year with !
The question has always been “What should I become?”
I will need a new vessel from first to thirty-first,
one that can’t be contested,
no flaws whatsoever this time,
priceless and no tags,
pure, no stains.
A vessel of absolution,
My desperation grows,
What should I become?
List upon List, words upon words;
Resolutions of the past rolled and smoked like a blunt.
I must find the perfect body to reincarnate into this time.
I tried improvising, shapeshifting into relatable beings,
experimenting with different likenesses,
but my body couldn’t hold up for too long.
Mere facades are too fragile, too…temporary.
I need something substantial,
something monochrome yet colored and infrequent to the eyes of Picasso.
As unpredictable as having two faces with the simplicity of having no face to start with.
And still every year, I fail to acquire such state of being.
Every year the model body changes and I have to cut up pieces of my then current one.
Sharpening my knife after every slice.
Accuracy is key. Perfection is the door.
Still on occasion I patch up cuts with dead skin from previous cuts.
For gain there must be pain; however, I still feel the loss of parts of me.
Now a new year has come forth,
the first second, the first cut,
the next second, the first tear.
Constantly abusing myself in my pool for a perfect idea.
A die hard fan of fantasies, I attend every show to the end.
Screaming out “This time! This time!”
First to thirty-first, cut, patch, cut, patch….This time!
Sometimes I am curious as to if there are others.
Others who share my desperation.
Others who cut in a pool of their tears.
How much have you cut?
How much have you cried?
MMXVII, This time … what shall you become?
(2016)
