Sin against my soul

I want so much to have reality.
I don’t know what is real and what is not anymore.
I don’t know if what I am feeling now is real or just warmth.
I come to you.
I need refuge.
I let go of who I was and what I wanted because fear clutched my soul.
I was alone, cursed to be so.
Truth betrayed me.
Yet… I needed truth again in some sick sadistic way.
Hurt.
Masochism.
I stay in the warmth I’ve offered myself.
But I stray, seeking to know, wanting to.
I hate knowing I’ve succumb to my devil.
I’ve become utterly pungent.
I smell of this.
I go into relapse.
You.
Wanting, needing, your guidance, you.
Don’t pity me, I was begging for it.
I want your forgiveness. My forgiveness.
I need to know.
I need to cling to the past, crying for its truth.
To have faith again.
Maybe if I feel this way again I can breed it’s wealth.
I pollute me with you.
Is this truth?
I’m insane.
But again, I cling to safety.
Threatening to run.
I vomit profusely at my own sins.
My weakness.
I hate myself.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
Please understand me, the reality is; I can’t forget this.
I don’t know whats going on.
Am I crazy?
Do you understand me?
Why I did this?
Why I had to?
I thought this is what I needed; pollution.
You healed me.
Made me see.
And then…I lacerated the scars.
To recreate the wound.
Wound of my soul.
Boils of shit.
Trash.
I cry to no one.
Only my eyes know my pain.
The next day I lie again.
Dishonest.
Not truth.
I’ve broken the mirror.
Me. I’m broken.
Broken, cracked.
Shattered cracked shit.
So I rush to the warmth to avoid my fears.
Avoid you.
My dishonesty.
Ignore my reflection.
To avoid sickness.
And my own wrath.
My own eternal hell.

by Jolene R. Nashlund