I feel like the mad ones, the ones like me whom no not a life without pain and disorder, are in a constant state of flight. Fight or flight. We’re all to aware of this darkness looming over our shoulder that threatens to take us – steal our life blood and paint us as something we don’t want to be. Some ill feeling and unfamiliar drone without a soul – thus we run. We cling onto the Brand upon our backs and swallow the razor edged pills and run. And run.
And its exhausting. Exhaustion of the mind, the body … an amplified exhaustion that seeps into our bones. We’re weighed down, the threat and the noise forbidding us Peace. All we want is to rest … to lay our heads a while and let the dark waves wash us down into a place we can be calm and still. But we can’t. When the body is still the mind runs wild – thrashing violently through the woods of our souls, ripping up the dirty roots that we thought we had buried and exposing them to the sting of Light.
So we move. We run. We’re drunken fiends scrubbing at the surfaces of our world hoping we can somehow order our minds by ordering our world. It never works but our demon is still there ….
So we move. In warped sickly circles – our heads smashing the wind as we ride this tampered carousel. And it’s exhausting.
Will the pursuit ever end? Day break to it’s death we are worn down, breaking backs, all without Hope of Saviour. An escape.
And this life lived in Flight has no treasures. We’re moving too fast to keep the smell of our daughters head and the warmth of a mothers embrace. The flowers die before they bloom before our eyes and the memories are empty shells of a time, like someone elses photo album – for the feelings were washed out with Fear.
We’re so scared.
Thus we run.
We cling onto the Brand upon our backs and swallow the razor edged pills and run. And run.