She has Died

What does it mean to die? My rose colored glasses have changed color. To the color of, well I don't quite have the name for it yet. But I'm wondering, what does it mean to die? What does it mean to be vulnerable. To be real, genuine, heart on your sleeve in the heaviest storm. What does it mean to reveal yourself in an authentic way. Is it even up to the other to be loaded out onto in terms of spilling your guts to them so they love you. Spilling your guts onto them so all they can do is say to themselves, "Wow, that is a lot of blood...and now you've gotten it on my sheets." What does it mean to be real. To be humble, to speak of lovingly, to diminish, to spit on, conspire against. What does it mean to hold on tight in the wind where everything is going full speed and you've got only two hands, and the sky is tearing apart into a great black space of time. I am getting sucked into time, into space and it is everlasting. The piece is new and shiny, the thought is fresh and crisp. I can smell the sweet grass, I can hear the bird vibrate in my lungs. To be seen, to be heard, is to be. What do I have to offer? I have to make a scene, I need the attention to be felt real. I need the validation, the stamp on the letter. What have I got to give other than a few tricks up my sleeve. The joker is a thief. and the child is the mother. I am lost...again. In between reality and delusion. The person I want to be and the person that is me. I am lost. In time and depth of being, the scene twists, it turns into oblivion. What am i doing here? Is it something that could be held onto? It is but a fleeting memory. I just like the way it is to feel keys underneath my fingers. The fluid movement of all my fingers and watching the bones pop out of my hand as I type. I'll lead you onto believe I'm dumb, because I already know you think of yourself as dumb. What a waste of energy. To think and believe in an altered reality. Where have my feet been. In the sand, in the heat. Soaking up this whole body. And the beat of my heart, I never let myself feel it. I couldn't regulate my nervous system. It was too hard, it was too tough. Like a brick lie on top of me and I had nowhere else to dive in deep. Move through the door onto the other side. This is where all the magic lies. Yes, lies. Magic is lies and deceit. You cannot run from your life. But I will try. The wind danced neutrally with my body, light as a feather. the answers of wisdom came flooding to my mind as I moved my hands in perpendicular motion set forth from the bottom of my feet and the tip top of my forehead. Wow, what a feeling. I allowed the messages to flood in and I instantly began to analyze, throw away, keep close, leave in the dust. It was all too real, the scent of the stench, the stale and wretched corpse lying in the dark. I came to realize that I am no longer able to wear this disguise. You will not meet the martyr in me nor the victim of disbelief. She has died.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJRJ73MmmTU