Some times, the pain becomes unbearable.
Just like being breathless in a gutter
Sometimes I am trapped in this maze of toxicity
I try but there is no way of getting out
Perhaps to be more accurate,
there is no way of making my mind seek the exit
No, it wants to linger in this pain. A sodomism hard to explain. The pain is real but so is the addiction to it. Once my shirt is slightly stained, the only reaction I produce is the need to deny the guilt. No, there is no stain.
There is no stain by any stretch of imagination. None whatsoever. And whoever proclaims otherwise is evil. Not even ignorant. No, evil. Gullible.
But the stain is right there, there is the guilt. I will never wash myself clean off of it, though I will never be able to define it either. And there is the pain, arising from this denial, the self-deceit.
But I am too much on fire to realise this. My only concern is to prove that I am blameless and so must be obliged. I am so concinved that I don't even see the foolishness, even as it stands right in front of my eyes.
So I fight harder, trying to make the white win and make the black lose. Because I think I am as white they come.
I shout and scream, or just stay silent and fight that way. Play the victim that I think I am. Play the punisher when I can get away with it.
In the end, I take it all too seriously. And end up fouling others but never be forgiving of their fouls.
A day or two later, when the senses finally hit home, that is the real shame. Because even then, I seem to be too keen on being accepting of my behaviour, but only forgiving when it comes to others.