How much you dare to swollow?
A soup of shit gets served.
YOu may choose. Getting up & walking away OR
Grabbing the spoon & give it a try.
Martyrdom for your dearest creation.
Based on destruction. Served with shame, garnished with guilt. You feel the crumbly pieces of helpless confusion. Is this what loyalty is about? Sitting there taking in. Seeing, watching, feeling, sitting still. At one stage, there is a strange tickling down at your but. Is this the spot panic arises from? Dare you mistaking the other’s shit with your own. The one you released already. Through daily practice. With reflection. Silent time. Crying. Much crying. But to which extend was it your shit you cleaned out? How much was it the other’s? How much you dare to swallow?
WRITTEN PIECES 