Catharsis 2-10-08

The wind is blowing and the Earth is buried under a roiling mass of gray anger. And everything is gray and dead and cold and the wind is screaming through the winter trees. It slaps my face as it rushes by and tares through my hair. It's a careless, thoughtless caress. I stand in the middle of the barren cold field and I scream and I cry and I shout and yell your name and your name until my throat is raw and my voice is cracked and I can't scream anymore. The wind and me, that's all there is screaming together and fighting and clawing and biting and screaming. And it rakes across my cheek, a luke warm brush of lips on flesh and it feels so eerie and weird out here all alone with the wind and the clouds and the sky and no sun no sun anywhere. And I keen and I shrill like the twister wind and it's your name, always your name and only your name as I curse you and call for you and cry for you. Because it's always been you and it'll always be you and nothing but you will make me live. I am dead and cold and shattered like ancient stone like Ozymandias and it's not me and I hate it. And I vow to the wind that one day oh yes one day I will taste the wild strawberry honey sweetness and tang and wild passion and arrogant superiority of you. Because I need you and I am you yet I hate you, and I fight it and you because I am proud, too proud and always proud and standing straight and tall while you rail and scream and swear eternal vengeance. And I am not weak like a wilting carnation I am a peach rose, a thorny rose as you said and I said that's right I am and you agreed. And I will fight it and I will submit to it because there's nothing else I can do or will do. But it's dark and it's wrong and it's not my dream song and you're forbidden fruit and my name is not Eve. So I lay on the ground and cry and I'm quiet and the wind has gone but the clouds still stay. And I sleep and I dream and I do not scream I just, write.