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cyQuest searching for wholeness |
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Home | Our Pathway Home | Musings | FAQ Personal Sharings / Healing Fragmentation 
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cyQuest searching for wholeness |
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Home | Our Pathway Home | Musings | FAQ Personal Sharings / Healing Fragmentation
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Don't tell me what's wrong with me. Don't tell me what you think you know, what you are so sure of, that you simply must share with me... point out... "express"... shove down my throat! with all your postures and diagrams and charts and reasons and rationales and lofty wisdoms. You kill my love for you by inches. Each "telling" slams me backward 9 miles and I look at you then through a lens darkly and distorted with hatred and distrust. You think you know so much. You think you have such large understanding of me of my pain of my patterns. You don't really know me or hear me or see me. And by these great truths you proclaim
The air must be thin up there, so high up in your head. Petty small narrow ragged understandings without compassion or fullness or real true understanding. And if I dare to tell you what I feel
by my relentless movement
If by some strange courageous attempt, I dare to tell you what I feel ... If I dare to open my heart to you ... Don't gloat. Don't say "I knew it" or "I told you so" or "That's what I thought" or any of your stupid mindless HEARTLESS better-than know-it-all smug superior CRAP I don't care if you ARE right. I don't care what you see... what you know... what you think you know. This telling, this gloating, this "I'm so smart" is your way of ensuring your survival. But I don't care if you survive. Because your survival depends on my wrongness On the wrongness of everyone you meet. I feel it with every breath you snort in my direction. It slams me back 9 miles and I see you through a dark lens hideous and distorted You are a lurking beast heartless a huge balloon head atop mangled shoulders You go about busily feeding your head with critical knowings. Feeding the furnace of the better-than, know-it-all, smug, superior, CRAP machine. Do you hear me? Will you ever hear me? Or will you bolster your position again? Tell yourself that this is "justified"? That this is your "free expression" of how you feel and therefore should be allowed should be swallowed should be chewed and savored and blessed and then begged for...
It's a lie you tell yourself Feeding your head, feeding the dark consciousness hovering over your shoulder, grinning at me gleefully. Perhaps superiority is the only "feeling" you know. Perhaps you don't know anything else. And you wield the knife of guilt sharpened and honed... You require that we bow and scrape and accept and allow and beg for more. To be "good", we must become proper little supplicants practicing our willingness, open our mouths and turn our cheeks, smiling, staying in the game... bare our backsides and let you you "teach" us the error of our ways. What's worse... You demonstrate how it should be done how to swallow the bitter pill and like it. You "take" instruction you listen and nod and allow you chew and savor and swallow you thank your tormentor and ask for more. Then you smile at me and say "See, that's how it's done." So good you are. So grown up. So evolved. So kind to show me how to be a better person, if I could only be just like you. You carelessly slice and dice and watch me bleed with aloof disinterest, and judgments, so thin and piercing. I have no weapon to return the wound you inflict. I have no way to reach your absent heart. Go. Be gone. Feed your head elsewhere. Chew on somebody else's tender core. Mine is not for you. Not anymore. |
