pollution

a bitter end to the sweetest story. the truth is, none of this was my fault, and there was absolutely nothing i could’ve done to stop it, but why does the blame weigh my fragile shoulders down? walking around with a curved spine carrying a back pack full of memories and going on a endless hike to find closure is starting to feel repetitive. like a daily ritual i am reminded this is not the first time i’ve walked this path. i wonder if when i find the end i will finally be able to look into your eyes and not feel the ache in my stomach. the sort of bellyache you get when you know you’ve eaten something you were not meant to swallow, something the tired acid is trying so hard to fight yet won’t budge. A sort of uncertainty starts to build in your guts and your intuition upgrades to where you are ,all of the sudden, so aware. aware of your surroundings, of your feelings, your thoughts and now your person’s deepest and darkest secrets. its all revealed to you. you couldn’t be more grateful. so raw and passionate you never wish to see anyone else's blood. So private and intimate, the individual cells that carry their identity belongs to you. So, you manipulate them. you change them and program them to love you. love you forever and unconditionally, love you through good and bad, love you against their will. Would they be willing a blood transfusion from the intoxicated blood you hold?