sometimes one of the hardest things to do is
not lose all faith in humanity.
it sounds cliche (which when you think about it is kind of awful that such a thing could be cliche)
but there it is.
when it hits I am genuinely sick and baffled by what I see and hear.
but equally hard is
not to use my despair of the world
and all the evil to be found therein
as an excuse
to indulge my own spiritual sickness.
on some deep level,
(just beyond the spotlight of my consciousness)
my alcoholism wants to use whatever sickness I encounter,
be it petty and banal or massive and heart-wrenching,
when I really think about that
it's kind of disgusting.
sickness calls to sickness,
all I can do is be still,
stand still inside,
and acknowledge that acting out my fear or despair
or indulging my self destructive impulses
(which scream to be free and
can throb with a pain
as tangible and
insistent as an
doesn't change anything
doesn't help anything
and is as close to actual blasphemy as I will ever get.
the darkness outside
quenching our own light.