SwirlingFire: The Death of Dorian Grey

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SwirlingFire

The Death of Dorian Grey

Life doesn’t get easier – we just find different ways to distract ourselves from things we cannot change.

The things we can change?
We make promises that we will do better next time

Probably

We learn to be better actors
On stage nurtured Ego
In full technicolour
Dorian Grey Hues
Rotten to the core
Happy as Larry exteriors
Sad sniffling wretches
Desperate for love
It’s quite the thing
Cancelling culture
Obliterated facts from Timeline Terrorists
Agree & pay your subscription
Else Hung drawn and quartered by Jesters and clowns
Turn cards for bets
How quick the pack falls.

Automatic reflexes
custom built responses
Each carefully honed
for maximum return
“Check out my portfolio”
They seductively say
Pulling deeper towards darkness
With each passing day

We bargain with spirit guides,
religious entities from other planes
Learn from mistakes
Solidly we grow
We don’t,
until we are forced
to change our ways
To fit in

Losing those we love
Losing those we abhor
Every death
Life loses Connection,
no matter how tenuous
Gone forever
Tiny specks of dust catch the air
Landing on surfaces
Leaving their mark.
Only recalling outlines with movement.
Sharp edges blurred
That sense of pain eases
Just a bit
Even after decades
Memories resurface and challenge us once more.

Who are you now?
Who were you meant to be?
You will never amount to the sum of true worth.,

When you learn the hidden potential can be set free
Gathering strength
As sense enters your body
leaving your past behind

The waifs and strays
Pulling at your dress,
Trying to drag you into
Tangled webs of deceit, charm and exclusivity
Draining your emotional bank accounts to get their hourly fix
They cannot survive drama free
They want it
Crave it
Must have it
At any cost
Wounded battalions forsaken
All part of the War Game
Cannon fodder
over the top
Boom

Struggling to remember what was real, what are dream state nightmares
Which version shapes the future

Truth and lies
They are cut from the same cloth.
Like a moral compass
Spinning wildly to find true north
Innocence is no longer strong currency

Packs of jackals pissing on the sofa,
All moral fibre
totally frayed

A #365Words exploration of Death & stages of Grief

Swirlingfire: A Posting History

@Swirlingfire, 10 July 2020


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