Pine needles and a vegetating heart

Habits consume us just like those wild spreading vines steal the light from a north facing wall. They drain the short remains of life we still present, a worn out life of failed tries and faulty expectations. Our obsessive patterns, they always lead to the same old places where we will, hopefully, vislumbre the same old scenarios, so we can cause ourselves the same old feeling, once again, until our tired body collapses from all the pain we repetitively inflict on ourselves, naïvely.

But that opportunity is long gone by now, there’s no returning to what once was nothing and now, less than nothing is; it’s only you and your nothingness, but still you force yourself a little more into those woods. Justifying it as an inner need to relax and feel at home in the wild, you go there to breathe, every morning, before the day wakes up. Maybe you feel like you may still be living last night’s dream, so you take the same premeditated path to see if now, this lucid experience, finally takes you where you really wanted to go in your sleep.

Perhaps someday you’ll find her, herself lost just as you’ve been for so long now. You believe in that possibility and you’re so dumb for finding motivation on such an impossibility, wronging your heart with foolish promises of joy still to come, joy you think will magically run towards you, coming from this nebulous bosk. Feeding your enslaved character with an empty dish, expecting it to find substance where there is nothing but the sharp autumn breeze and some fallen pine needles, now covering the road side like bandages masking open wounds, left unstitched, meant to never heal and later kill you with a burning fever, caused by this long-lasting infection, already suffusing underneath your apparently pale, untouched flesh.

You gaze the ferruginous puddles of stagnant water and wonder if that’s how your heart looks like now. Dormant and putrified, functioning only as breeding site for plague and other scourging forms of live. Up you see the webbed up canopies, laying their tainted shadows upon you, offering coverage from the dribbling rain by extending their blanket of indifference against your soaking suppressed corpse. You become suspicious regarding the person you’re slowly becoming. You can’t define it, for you find nothing substantial inside yourself, not a single emotion passable of description.

Tomorrow, here you’ll be again, wandering and smiling, amazed with the simplistic beauty emanated by the forest. You’re happy and sorry; you smile, it’s the fastest easy fix for your weary eyes, doomed to melt whenever the flashing warmth of memories finds its way to dazzle them; you feel so much yet nothing eases your mind and brings peace to your tight chest.

The sad freedom you achieve by walking alone, it feels so empty but, still, as addictive as your dire will to keep worrying about her. You think you owe her something, as she cultivated contentment in you, for so long, and so you hand her your own sanity, expecting her to pity your well-intentioned soul.

She is bluntly unaware of all this thoughts you forge only to afflict you. She ignores them; you may be inside her but she is surely not sensing your presence. She is love-blind, has always been. Her condition is chronic.

Don’t waste your time painting colorful masterpieces destined to someone who can’t even tell Like from Love.


Featured image

Advertisements

16 thoughts on “Pine needles and a vegetating heart

  1. I read it. Re-read it and will keep re-reading it.
    Coz that’s a habit I’m certain shall help me evolve as a writer.
    Such metaphors and such expressions. You give life to words and make feelings less special outside the paper 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Reblogged this on A page of thoughts and experiences. and commented:
    “Maybe you feel like you may still be living last night’s dream, so you take the same premeditated path to see if now, this lucid experience, finally takes you where you really wanted to go in your sleep.”

    I loved your masterpieces and this is one of my favorites. ♥ I would also like you to know that I adore your profound wordings and your thoughts coming from within your senses. I hope I’ll be able to do that as well. 🙂 I’ll connect more to your posts. Thanks!

    -Kristine, Philippines. ♥

    Liked by 1 person

  3. So just right on the mark. You can really be so concise and say what would take me twenty pages to convey. Wonderful piece. I’ll just add a passage Thict Nhat Hanh wrote about habit energies:

    There is a story in Zen circles about a man and a horse. The horse is galloping quickly, and it appears that the man on the horse is going somewhere important. Another man, standing alongside the road, shouts, “Where are you going?” and the first man replies “I don’t know! Ask the horse!” This is also our story.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Better than before…loved it. So here goes…

    “A heart can never stay stagnant…
    It will always breed of love…
    Love that is unconditional.
    They might be love blind…
    But the warmth will always comfort..
    Keep comforting all…
    Nothing substituted by all…

    Liked by 3 people

Show me some love...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s