(Originally July 2022)
Double Edged Swords
Sitting thinking about how much I’m attracted to sharp swords.
I love what that razor cutting edge can do.
In fact, I don’t much like blunt ones at all.
Only trouble is, in this world; almost everyone who’s taken the time
To really sharpen up their sword; also sits there neurotically sharpening the back edge.
Man do I love a double-edger, ready to cut me, and them.
Cut me With that back edge while showing me what they can do with the front edge.
It’s super obvious to others that they need to take a file to that back edge.
It’s mostly just a fucking liability...But good luck convincing me to do the same.
I don’t remember a time in my life, where I’ve so gleefully sat sharpening-up the back edge of my blade as the past two months.
The very antithesis of what I know is right.
But try convincing the inner Daniel.
He’s grown tired of people always treating him the same way.
Always pulling back. Running away.
He’s now proactively making that back edge extra sharp, as we speak.
He knows he needs to heal, and grow in his ability to feel, level up, almost,
In response to this vesuvian amount of pain rising up.
Every now and then there’s a rumble and puff, an hour of release.
But he doesn’t have the bandwidth available. How does a child learn to cope with a volcano?
Clogged up with fear, apathy, intentionally closed down. Fed up. If I can’t beat them, I’ll join them.
I see old patterns coming my way:
Wow look at this pretty double edged swords walking my way.
How fantastic. Just poised perfectly ready to pull a cut and run manoeuvre on me.
Do I point it out, or do I just keep quiet?
Keep my head down. Enjoy the front side while I get to look at the shiny-shiny?
I think back to how many moons ago I sat and cried while rounding Sweden under sail,
I cried hard in anticipation of a life filled with pain.
I realised there and then: That it would maybe be my romantic life’s story,
to be cut time and time again, as the type of sword I like with always get me sooner or later, with that fucking back edge.
Now I sit, regretfully, sharpening my own, ready to make the first blow,
To cut that heartstring free first. Damnit how in god's name did I get here!
I know the cord can’t really really be cut;
And I know it will always cause me equal amounts of pain trying.
But you try convincing that young boy inside me to take another few years in this prison. Where people come along and make false promises, shortly before evaporating.
No, no, he’s done. He’s ready to go to war.
Daniel stands poised with his own two hander double edge sword,
Extra sharp, ready to leap out and start hacking at heartstrings,
Lest this Vesuvius might blow.
I don’t remember a time since my teen years where I’ve been so meticulous In sharpening that back edge.
I don’t know if Pompeii would survive the next eruption.
Therefore I feel like I have to protect myself, from all those I care about right now.
I cannot take more pain and still get through.
I’ve already emotionally withdrawn from many of my belongings again,
and I can’t even look my house in the eye.
It’s a mess, I cut-off any care for it as it began to look again
Like I couldn’t afford to stay here again, through lack of work,
And total consumption with my own pain, grief, loss and avoidance,
As I stick two fingers to at those who would withdraw from me.
Well fuck the lot of you.
Home, you’re gonna leave me too? Well fuck you too.
I’m gonna pull back from you first.
Lets go for the 4th or 5th summer, is it?
And play another round of ‘try to remember why to remain alive’.
Another boom and bust cycle - I love those.
Now where was that pretty little sword walking towards me, there, there you are.
Perfect. Let’s play. You’re just what I need.
Your razor edge cuts perilously close to my skin.
Scraping away more layers of filth. Showing me how unworthy I feel.
And how much I deserve. How little I feel I do.
You’re a fucking sharp one aren’t you, my love.
I’ve only met a couple like you in all my time here.
I deserve someone like you, pretty little sword, just like you,
Only one where someone has taken a few years worth of filing down that back edge.
Do I walk away, and try scraping off my own dirt?
I’m sure I can Do it, but it is very nice having it scraped away by someone else.
Do I walk, run, hide Or is it just love myself…
Or do I let them scrape, learn the lessons,
Knowing full well I will be cut sooner or later by the back edge of that blade.
Deep, hard, and painfully. Can I take one more wound even?
Which is most loving for myself truly? And which blade will dull first?
Along that back edge of theirs. As one double edge leaves another one comes.
A new one, bring it on. Maybe you’ll start filing down when you see it trying mine.
Only, I’m not. Not anymore. It hasn’t worked in the past. Now I’m scared to try it again.
Right now. At this time. Scared to try it with familiar swords anyway.
But ahah! You’re a new sword. A slightly different outline.
You’ll do. I will fence with you for a while.
Show me what you can do. I don’t care about you.
Yet. Your back edge therefore can’t hurt me.
Yet.
Most importantly, when will I sit and stop sharpening mine?
When will I just accept that I’m likely to lose everything I have left
In the next round of magna what flows my way.
Oh no. Not-yet is becoming now, as round 11 comes my way.
Same shit different day. I’m catching feelings for you, this time i stand poised ready.
Ready to cut you off. I won’t make the same mistake for the 11th time.
You might even be THE sword for me. The one who will dull first.
You’re certainly shiny enough. But I’m not gonna give you the chance.
Love for myself dictates that I don’t wait to see.
Love for myself instructs that I must hack away first,
before my heart gets to feel all that is, both sweet and salty.
Love for myself.
Live for myself.
Perpetuation of karmic cycles.
Now I’m fully infected too, poised, ready to strike.
Ready to cut loose and run Instead of finding any kind of way to process this trembling supervulcano in my heart.
With Love,
Dan Morrell x
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