Sinking Sands

I learned to see things from an alternate angle; while those in my line of reasoning shook their heads in disbelief at the transformation they considered despicable.
The new doorway wasn't opened to their judgement bouncing them back to stay behind with my insecurities that they admire and feed on.
My feet lightly tapped the heated tile comforting me with the touch of freedom
I had searched for a while surrounded by the cultists losely chanting "you belong among the dead."
I cursed their names while I allowed them pull away leaving me to face the dark alone again.
My soul died a million deaths, always resuscitated by the lies that cradled my shaking for a moment.
My dismemberment wasn't quick or carefully carried out, but articulated slowly one piece, one limb at a time.
Done by the rusted saw blades passed from hand to hand.
I was passed from one man to the next by my own will, searching for love in sexual gratification.
I believed darkness to be my friend as I smiled often holding that heavy flask of whiskey and false beliefs.
I was radiant surrounded by the ghosts of the once living, and they could taste the life running through my veins.
I fed their hunger for the glimpse of what was and they struggled to hold their feast in their grasp.
But strength came knocking on a door that once laid locked and frozen from me.
It took more then me to lift myself from the sands of sinking to make my way to.answer the call to live and cry again.