Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Chocolate covered bitterness
Bitterness is bacon. Bitterness is potato chips.
One would not think it to look at bitterness. I would not guess, to eye it in its fierce, piercing astringency, that my heart would cry:
But here I have been again, bingeing. Like it's ice cream. Like it's bacon, french fries, barbecue flavored tortilla chips, Roman pizza, pastries, burgers, fried shrimp, milkshakes, and caviar. My stomach is bursting. I cannot eat another bite! But it's so good! One more little fever of bitterness and loathing, one more furious vision. Just let me see as clear-eyed as this for another minute. Let me have this sharp and terrible taste flaming in my head until the whole world is laid bare and completely transparent to me. Unfixable. Exposed. Its flaws and successes revealed in a light brighter than any god's. Yes, God, you too are laid bare!
Five more minutes? Bitter, lucid, munching away, packing it in. Please?
No, I am bursting. I can't take another bite. My heart is clotting up, growing hard, and turning against me.
It is time to take up once again the muddling burden of wonder.