Patches on the Soul

Life is full of definitions, assumptions

Darkness, indifference

Alienation

These came about through IGNORANCE

Igorance of who I REALLY am

Pigon holed into your perfect paradigm, BLESSED ignorance!

I am not a paradigm

I am the essance of what is real in this world

The wanderer, searching through innocence, indifference

BLASTED infamy!!

All this

All the words spoken to me, by me

you didn't hear my voice

not really

I cannot be defined, placed into a model of simplicity

To really know me

Give me your thoughts, hear mine

My essence is self reflection

the pieces of my soul have all been patched together 

You got in the seams and TORE at them, TORE

Inadvertently

Yet no less damaging for all that.

Now I'm left patching them up, for the first time in YEARS I can hear my own thoughts again.

I can be who I am again...

Perfection

A state of perfection

I have killed myself before, reaching for a state of perfection
Stayed up all night to make sure that all articles of clothing have been washed and put away, all floors swept and moped, all carpets vacuumed and spot checked

I have washed walls and cried because I couldn't stop
Stayed home from parties
because my home was not clean
and I myself was not fit
curves not tucked into place

I didn't feel acceptable then

my children
went without me

to church
to family parties

they went off to play with their cousins at skating rinks and trampoline parks

while I lay sleeping

exhausted

imperfect

It's ridiculous

to think that I am not good enough

because everything is not in it's place

I live in gratitude that my children work hard everyday trying to do well in school, studying and striving. Yes they could help out more, I could demand more...

I think though that there will be time enough for me to sit all alone in a spotless house.

Aching to see their art projects, their bouquets of dandelions filling up my expensive tea cups, my daughters makeup, my sons basketballs and Pokemon cards. Someday I won't have to deal with it all.

Will I be perfect then?

I think not

Perfection lies in all the striving, all the creativity and life of the curious mind. Perfection is my daughters makeshift box house taking up space in the living room, someday I will get rid of it... someday, but not today.