Kite II

There's something about cutting loose
the string of a kite
that invokes in people a sense of freedom;
of being untethered from restraints

to be allowed to soar
as high as one wants
carried by the breeze
soaring above the clouds

There's something about being carried by the breeze though, that people conveniently forget. There's no way to steer, and a kite cut loose is essentially at the mercy of the breeze. The perceived freedom is in fact an utter lack of control.

Yes of course there's undeniable exhilaration; dancing along with the breeze. The trouble starts when the air stills, and the kite comes crashing back towards the earth, far from where it previously was.

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The kite cut loose tumbles as freely as it soared now that the air is still. I see where the kite is headed to; a marshland that I'm all too familiar with.

Not one where I shrivel up and wallow in self pity but one where moral compasses never seem to work and insignificant details like consequences and conscience slide off minds like water down the back of a duck.

This is where a bitter laugh and a cynical shrug are the only defenses one might need. This is where the concept of monogamy is sketchy at best, where a girl can look you in the eye and make you swear exclusivity while she fucks half a dozen other guys behind your back.

This is where you fuck not because you're lonely, not because you're attracted, not because you love, but because you can.

This is where "I'm a bastard" spreads more legs than a trembling declaration of love.

This is where ... I once lost myself.

This is where ... I never want to be again.

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