Punch the smoke

The demons are out to get me. I can feel them chasing me through my thoughts. I try to punch away the bloody smoke and I semi succeed. The closer I get to what I desire dearly, the thicker the smoke. It’s out to get me. It wants me to stop whatever it is I’m doing. It wants me to stop believing in what I know is true. I know who sent it too. The bloody one knows how to catch you. If your weakness is a mountain you cannot seem to climb, a mountain is what will present itself as soon as you start to have an idea of what you want.

The smoke is elusive and tries to escape me because it knows what uncertainty does to me. Having no proof of the smoke makes it that much harder to punch. And yet, here I am…trying to punch away the blood, which I cannot grasp.

I see a man’s face, a familiar face and he stands beneath the smoke. He tells me how this smoky vision might be as good as it gets. The evidence doesn’t help my case but maybe all he needs is to put on his glasses, he has needed them always. Maybe he forgot about his glasses, or maybe he didn’t. I don’t know.

The never-ending friend stands on the other side of the smoke. He told me he understood and now I can only hear his voice and all he can sum up to say is everything he thinks is wrong with me.

The demons hide behind whatever they choose to. They are sent especially when you have made up your mind who to be and how to see. And if your vision seems to be remotely different from almost everybody, brace yourself. I haven’t made my peace with how this whole thing works but all I can do is recognize it and try to live through, with and in spite of it.

I do know that there are those moments of clarity where the smoke gives me enough space to breathe in peace. Those moments are beautiful and the very confusing smoke leaves me alone, it almost disappears completely.

I can’t really see the happy ending today because the smoke it trying to catch me but I am punching it away with all the strength in my heart. But in spite of my lack of vision, I do have those pretty instincts that soothe that restless soul of mine. Oh, and an angel…there’s always an angel flying around in my head.


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