in-a-gadda-da-vida

when you say i can’t have that, i want it. i want to test how sure you are that i can’t. i want to see if you’ll still love me after i smash this first pact, first fence. which matters more, me or the rule? which matters more, me or the disregard of your feelings? this is selfishness clothed in stubbornness walking around like independence. it’s ignorance, really. if you say i can’t have that, why do i not instead lounge in the nice soft bed of self you’ve made up for me, why am i still looking under it in the morning, poking around for monsters i thought i heard last night in the dark? i’d use a garden of eden reference, but you wouldn’t get it.

what’s it like to see fishes and loaves with no miracle, galilee with no sea, sex with no sin? what’s it like to walk around without the framework of saints & demons in your head? to not see yourself constantly oscillating between being of light worthy of eternal life, and worthless speck of evil cast out into a lake of fire? who on earth decided this was a way to tell children not to go play past the creek, not to read the book that dad doesn’t like, not to fight with your sister? i used to hop back and forth over the creek, testing. i felt the best in the air, when i was not obeying, not yet transgressing. was i sinning? why could i not go farther? what would happen if only i decided what i was capable of? that would be wholeness, not endless boundary play, but the church likes to keep women fragmented. whore or madonna, both need a man to touch them with his marvelousness in order to attain meaning. even esther was waiting to be tapped, couldn’t be a heroine without a man’s decision; she was sublime because her beauty convinced the king, not because she was intelligent enough to use it.

i don’t even want the forbidden, i only want to know that if i took a bite of the apple, i could settle it with a joke about plums in the icebox. that you’d kiss me instead of damn me. that there is no chance of exile lurking, hooded, biding time inside your eyes. n commented on my obsession with power, but he read it wrong. i don’t really want power to rule, i only want enough that the miracle comes from me. no one need sift my spirit through a sieve.

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