Eyes in the dark

None of her problems were particularly important, but anything described as painful by her regardless of how much, was always greeted with the most tender attention by any man because she was beautiful. She learned to be able to describe anything she needed in terms of tragedy in this way. At the same time all the important problems, the ones worth really facing were left undone because in order to describe them in the first place she would have to face something alone, since this was not a thing anyone could do for her no matter how insightful the helper, and so they never got known by her or anyone. And so she continued on life this way, getting older, unknowingly drowning in a ever rising flood of ignorant sleeping wasted cruel unconsciousness

I know you hear the voices clearly, words I only hear as a distant hum. I know you can see my slow turning pain like a cats eyes in the darkness. I have never felt truly naked. You know things about human life from your experience inherited from this jungle that grows humans with twisted hearts and you have philosophies that I have never read in books. How can I escape you when your touch brings me to my knees, every hit mends my bones? My feet question my legs: for what purpose do we run? Wars erupt under my skin, deep below my ability to know, where my eyesight cannot reach.

I walked and walked and walked around the forest as far as I could, deep into the peninsula, on the opposite coast of the country, it was the furthest I could escape. Waves chased my feet and the memories of you chased my shadow.