The split blog post Part One

Let's do something different with this blog today! Since I am a bunch of contradictions and tangled thoughtwires today (as I am pretty much all the time, and everybody else in the world too) I will write one part frivolous post and one part a little more serious. Part One is my poem, Part 2 is my life and just...thoughts I have on everything I feel, hear and see. Well, of course not every single thing, but you know what I mean.

Thus, if you are in a lazy mood and just want something to cheer you up, just read part One! If you have nothing better to do, read Part Two as well!

Part One

My life is like a chocolate cake,
with very many flavours.
The base is solid, a foundation for all the richness piled on top-
and yet it is flaky, crumbles in your hand
slides down your throat with no complaint.

Above it, there is a thin layer of dark chocolate
which is sometimes called bitter chocolate (but I don't like that name).
It makes it sound like a necessarily bad thing,
while darkness holds the ambiguity of
horror - quietness
fear - peace
death - calm
and a creeping sense of beauty.
I have been acquainted with pure dark chocolate but a few times in my short life-
but each time it has changed me.

There is a large chunk of traditional cake in me as well...
or whatever you call a cake if it has no topping, no icing, no base,
only what is between the top and the bottom.
That airy fluffy part that keeps the taste of the rest from being too
intense, too dominant
-the filler.
I live in this region most of my waking hours,
going through repetitive motion like a cog on a wheel,
sometimes whizzing up to touch the top or the bottom.

And then there is the icing,
the sweetness that jumps and grabs you in delight
and the hope that the feeling never ends.
There are little sprinkles of icing in every day, for me-
but sometimes, they are so slight, or I am so immune
that I fail to notice it.

There are nuts, too, found randomly in this recipe of me-
the quirks, the oddities
that never go anywhere or mean anything much.
But
I am not a nut cake. Do not love me just for my nuttiness,
love all of me.
Don't take my nuts away.

Sometimes, I feel like the birthday cake laid out on the table
Hot wax candles stuck into me
Intense scrutiny, exaggerated care
admiration (but at who?)
A spray of saliva (disgusting habit)
and all is black.

And that's where I end my metaphor, for I am not then defeated.
I am an invincible cake!
You eat me today, I will resurface tomorrow!
And I am happy
to be who - and what
I am.