In the pre light moments of the morning I am a wretched wreck. I feel a sense of fear and dissatisfaction with myself. This is a familiar feeling and it is not exactly comfortable, but it wears me well. It wears me like a glove. I am coated with the shitty nastiness of it. And it has ahold of me in a way that it seems will never let go.
All of my failures and imperfections loom over me as though I am in a sick bed at the Frankenstein household. They are giant hideous creatures filled with violence and desperate for love. I see nothing but their blinking yellow eyes and green heads as I open my eyes looking up at them.
And I realize that I am a monster, waking for the first time, and I will one day be one of those faces looking down at a new monster, also filled with violence and desperate for love.
I want to run away, and not be in with this crowd anymore. But I it is on me and I cannot escape my true nature.
Back to civilization fishing seems like a dream and I must now face the demons of my day.
Most of which come from my own heart. One of these days I will have to tear out the stitches and see if it holds together by itself. Oddly enough they have grown deep into the flesh and it seems it has become an irreparable aspect of who I am. Like Frankenstein’s monster. Like all the little monsters I sew. It is who I am.
Ugly with it.