Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Blank Doll.

Go on, you who know so much of love, teach me. Teach me how to piece the broken shards together.


If I want to look back on my childhood, all I see is a hazy period of panic, sweat, laughter, night, slumber and my child-voice against a backdrop of cars. It ends though, very clearly, like a shroud of smoke stopped by a panel of glass- the nightmare I've been numbed to that divides my childhood so abruptly from the rest of my life. The rest comes afterwards in startling clarity- the madness, the happiness, the dark hours of solitude drowned in tears, the clean moments of indolent joy, the light, the darkness, my heart turned to stone, my flesh turned to light.


So teach me again, I keep forgetting. How do you keep your life together when you've built it all on a heap of broken glass? Glass sparkles, diamonds too. Dim light that filters through these pieces of the soul, it emerges in a pitiless stream of fire.


Will you pick me up? No matter, I don't want to be anyway. We must bear the burden of the future and never long for the sweetness of the past. I won't ask for it, don't worry, it is not for me to ask in the end.


Twelve years. I was born again twelve years ago. Dim light and pitiless fire, through the shards of glass that remain.


C'est tout.

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