I was going to write a letter of complaint to you.
With dramatic outbursts and all.
Then I realized I was blind from time immemorial or at the very earliest this morning.
Waking as always by force, like experiencing trauma for the first time.
I am met with despair on every remembrance of you.
I try to forget but with each moment of amnesia your face creeps through.
Like a stain fading into the fabric of my very self.
But now it has been cut into smaller pieces to make scarves for the children in winter time.
How a little part of me still guards against the cold.
But still around the neck as a hazard to anyone unaware.
Not that I am trying to be overly dramatic or anything other than myself in moments such as these.
No I don't believe in god, nor do I believe in you for that matter either.
You are a created astral suffocation to the point of asphyxiation, leaning on the brink of nowhere and in-between.
So please forgive me for my honest hypocrisy and take a bath if it makes you feel dirty.
I know your standards are higher than mine.
Just don't loose sight of yourself from so high a pedestal.
Dru
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