I drew a self portrait for college once. It was the final project of the semester. It was an image of my whole body, wrapped around it was an anaconda. The head of the king snake was two steps away from tearing my face off. That was the image.
That was my self image.
I wanted to think of something brutal and honest, something that represented my relationship to myself…accurately, without being winy.
Today I feel like the snake has me. Wrapped around my body, the way it was in my portrait.
I never knew why I drew such a retarded image in charcoal and I still don’t know what everyone else in my class drew…Is the self portrait a reflection on how we see ourselves or just another thought?
Is everything we do a reflection of how we see ourselves?
All I know is, love is a snake that tears you apart by first wrapping its body around you.
And its merciless.
And I’m confused.
I’ve never been so lost in all my life…and boy have I been lost.
When the lord greets me by the chipped white gate, he will share a cigarette with me and laugh at my self loathing.
But this pain, it is unlike any other.
It is true.
Its fire worthy.
I would die for it.
And when I harness my strength I will show her. Like I always do.
With my body, with my being.
And I love her, and every time I think about any part of her body, I shudder with wonder and exhaustion.
Real pain is something to listen to.
Trust me, after a life of false pain, I know the difference.
Amen Rapturous Reptilian
There are worse things to find in the light of the horizon of your love.
(Like everything else I could think of.)