Sparks

Do you ever wonder what it would be like to hold your hands over a flame and  watch your skin as it blisters, cooks and bubbles? Do you ever want to peel your skin back and away to see what your bones are made of, because, most of the time, your bones do not feel like bones.

What are bones?

What is skin?

Is it even real, or is it a trick?

Consider this carefully as you touch your arm as you might be doing now. Think, and think more, and then think again. Are you bothered by this? Good, be bothered and be worried and be concerned, but not for me. 

These are normal thoughts and they are part of who I am they will never change. I am not afraid of the darkest parts of myself, can you say the same? I do not know. I am not you, you are you, therefore only you know. 

Right now, I could put on my shoes and walk away and never come back. Never. I could abandon everything and everyone and never come back. I could live on the streets and shiver and go hungry and starve to death and be found miles away. 

I could.

We all could. 

What keeps us where we are? Security?

Rules?

Or chains?

I won't walk away, not into the gutter, but I will walk away eventually, I am biding my time.

One day I will vanish and you will suddenly remember these words.

Or maybe you will not, then we will see who was really listening.