Another morning

I look out at the break of day, in this city. Could be any fucking city, the difference's are relative. Whatever your scope is, it's hard to ignore the blood, sweat, tears, death, love, evil and everything between that created what is just a direction to us. A neglected dog sits in the cold yard adjacent. She has questions that she will never have answered. Ironic the answers I have, I wish I never held the questions are of abundance. I discard my cigarette, only a quarter smoked wondering why I even smoke. Then I remember how long life has been, aware of how long the rest will be, and that any way to lessen the quantity if nothing else will at least define the quality.

The house, I'm in is like a dream where everything is and isn't at the same time. I could blame her, blame her disorder, blame the existence of disorders, even blame myself for becoming a victim of her cycle. That though, wouldn't be fair, hardly the truth, as she's equally a victim of my cycle. I'd be ignorant to think that being caught in my cycle, because it is wider, is any more, or any better than hers. We're all as much at fault as we are all victims of something.

So much time, too much, we've spent mastering any and all addictions that keep us numb enough to walk the tightrope of naivety to our abusive deeds. Subtle ones or unavoidable to miss, we've found ways to hide from the true blame. Some are accountable, but, it is always accountability through the eyes, through the mind of the abusive. Thus, never equating to the affects of the abuse. We're all romanticizing even the ugliest of ourselves that objectively hold no beauty. We put a dress on them any way, then act as we're brave for saying out loud what are only words, until made more. How there's beauty in our faults, simply because we've admitted to having them. Like beating your child while saying "I love you", admission, on its own, means nothing. It is patronizing if there is no intent to look in the darkest places within, find the evil, and fucking love it till you break it with love. Do you, do I, do we, owe any less?