The Man In The Overcoat 2

Faltering shapes emerge through my sombre gaze, all life’s an illusion and I try to remember and visualise happier days. My angry heart grows soft and mild when I remember as we had once stood together, the visions become clearer and sharper and my senses remember soft gentle touch and as I remember torrents of anger rise. Ecstasy turns to anguish, the flowers of youth blossomed as our play turned from innocence to dark sin.

 Give me back again my youth.

I will mourn what has been lost for the rest of my life.

My future, Grief.

I imagine my life to be one long, sad, black song.

My father’s smile and touch made me happy, his very presence made me happy, just to be in the same space as him made me happy.  The man next door says I should fall in love and then I will rediscover such happiness, I know that to be a lie, love does not bring fresh happiness it recreates what has gone before and that’s it, nothing new, only in sadness and sorrow can I discover new emotions and feelings. I cannot crave death because I do not know what it is, I worry that in death we may be happy and free and regret we did not all die sooner. There is no heaven

                                                                        But

 There

may be

degrees of hell,

                                        as in life.

I feel as if my body only holds fragments of me.

                                                                                                                                                       Me no longer a person.

Last year in snowed for three weeks, after two days I felt as if I were living in a negative world.

I still love my father even though he is dead and no longer here to remind me every day through his actions and love just how much I love him, to love someone after their death as much as you did when they were alive is the only true way of testing just how much you loved them.

Five years have now passed since my father’s death, as I age I feel the selfish burden of unhappiness and sorrow less because I have a reason for them. Age justifies my unhappiness and sorrow; it justifies my disillusionment with the world and my place within it.

Pain and fear are the only emotions I trust, there is purity to pain, pain does not deceive in pain do I trust. To feel fear is to know you are loved, through fear we discover another’s boundaries, just how far will they go, after the ties, the leads and collars, the chains, the wire, the rope, the bruises and the blood and come at orgasms last throw, we know we are loved as the heart still beats and the blood still flows, one day I may encounter the person who does not love me enough to let me live.

In pain I trust.