"I would rather die of passion than of boredom"
[Vincent van Gogh]

The War

The War


It’s heavy and hypnotic, like the beat of its marching drums, and it follows me everywhere I go. An endless legion eating its way through everything about me that’s human. My feet are stuck, my arms can’t move and my head crumbles to a noise that never seems to stop.

I’m at war. And it’s tearing me asunder.

The ashes fall on everything I touch and the dust crawls under my skin like a parasite. It strikes in waves, like the slow breathing of a monster. Inhale. Exhale. Steel on drums, drums on steel. The sound never settles, the smell never leaves and the path never ends.

I wish I could be free like you. The way you dance swiftly through any battle, barely touching. No anger, no bloodshed, no casualties.

But I’m trapped.

My war is the battle of the tiny voices and their infectious anger will spread to whoever dares to enter the battlefield. Out here I’m fighting for what should be, but never is. Out here, I’m facing the beasts of my own making.

Many times have I fought close to victory, but fear of silence always won in the end. Many times have I scared my demons to retreat, but fear of change always brought them back. Many times have I tried to call for help, but fear of being exposed always kept me quiet.

Many times have I searched for God, but God never searched for me.

Now anger and regret have turned against me, and all my fallen soldiers have passed me their amour. I have kept their gifts like trophies to convince myself I’m still alive. To prove to the world I still can fight. But deep goes the wounds of a failed man and while the mud and the dirt of the battlefield have grown higher, their weight has built heavily alongside the illusion of strength. The depth in which I’m now buried is suffocating.

Once I was a great soldier. A bright star of the battlefield, slaying anything and anyone who’d cross my path. I was electric, powered by arrogance. I was raging, unstoppable, unbearable. Once I had faith in all that laid ahead. Once I had vision. Now, I’m blindly defending demons by fighting angels.

What once was the battle of my own significance, is now the echo of a supernova that never happened. What once was an excuse to never surrender, is now an excuse to never win. What once was history, is no longer a memory. My war has ended time and I’m refusing to let go, I’m unable to change.

I’m at war. Carrying the cross of my own defeat.

Exhibition | My Second Time at The Brick Lane Gallery

Exhibition | My Second Time at The Brick Lane Gallery

Miss K.

Miss K.