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I cling to Life Raft Rifting in the Drift by Joseph Krebs |
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Sketchophobia Number One | Lexi Spino

Lexi Spino

Sketchophobia Number One

 Lexi Spino

They say the Devil always shows up in the form of someone we would least expect, full of the most alluring metaphors and brilliant colors surrounding their cleverly worded false intentions…and I have to admit I cannot argue this. I just have become a firm believer that a savior comes into our lives dressed for some masquerade ball and sometimes, it’s even harder to realize the savior in disguise than the Devil himself.

I fell in love with the Devil once. If I have to be honest, I am still in love with him. I think it is quite common for people in my generation to have had relations with the Devil at some point in one way or another. In fact I would be willing to bet money that more people of my generation [the one the baby boomers screwed over] have spent more time with the Devil than in a church in their life. Of course, I am a writer, so all I have in my wallet to bet on this currently is a crumbled up five from tips I earned at my crappy part time burrito rollin’ job…so I guess there isn’t much power behind that statement.

I blame it on the eyes. The Devil seems to come embodied in someone who has the most captivating eyes, you know what I’m talking about, the kind that makes you feel like a deer caught in headlights. There is just enough light radiating off of the corneas to convince us this being, this moment, this thing can take us out of the dark we have surrounded ourselves with. For some time of course, they do. The thing is being lost is something we have found comfort in so much that once we step into adulthood it just seems like the state in which we are to stay. Stability is fucking scary because…well what the fuck even is stability?! That’s one of my biggest issues personally. So when the Devil showed up for me, naturally he made Hell come packaged nicely in this feeling of security that had me fooled for some type of stability that I had been needing to reach as a young adult. [Of course I am referencing the type of stability society likes to shove down our throats. You know, nine to five job, house with a family…the “American Dream” if you will.]

….BUT I digress…this column was not supposed to be the story of how I crawled through the fires of my own personal Hell and made it out, [maybe I will go back and explain that one in a later post if wanted] this is supposed to be about how a savior landed in my lap and sometimes that’s more traumatizing and confusing to deal with.

It isn’t the eyes. It’s never anything that can physically be placed with a savior. Maybe that’s what makes them so much harder to figure out. It makes sense if you think about it, seeing as lust is one of the seven deadly sins, why would a savior be something that strikes us that intensely by sight? Also, it’s always backwards…which of course is irritating for people in my generation since we are all about instant satisfaction and easy…but the Devil always comes at the right time, right when we need that escape, or that one person, or that one place to belong the most…so naturally a savior always comes at the wrong time. When we are finally fine on our own. When we have already given up and built those walls. When things are going well for a change and we have everything neatly placed and in order and we are finally moving on from that horrible place in our life and that terrible heartbreak that okay maybe I am not quite at the moving on from the terrible heartbreak part yet but god damnit did I have the act of I was down so well and fuck you for showing up in my life I didn’t fucking ask for this!! Okay. Maybe that last one was a bit more personal than widescreen relatable. What? I’m still a little bitter. Sue me.

He’s too good to me. That’s what a savior’s job is I suppose, to be good even though it might not seem right. I have done so much to push him away, mostly unintentional…mostly. I broke his heart. I have watched him cry more times than I wish I had. I have been this hurricane of confusion rushing through his life and all he does is lay next to me every night and remind me that no matter what he will never give up on me. I am not worthy of such a thing. [I am aware many would argue that statement.] I have looked this guy dead in the eye and told him that I do not want him the way he wants me after already being with him in such a way, after giving him the idea that it was everything I could have asked for. He responded by holding me and telling me everything was going to be okay. Who does that?!

I find myself getting irritated often with this. Wanting to yell in his face and tell him to run away from me. To just straight up ask what his problem is. I disconnect from the whole thing often. Trying to convince myself that he doesn’t understand me like he thinks he does. Giving false reasons to say fuck you and piss off every other day. He never asks anything of me. He never questions my mood swings. It’s nice. Nice is scary. Terrifying.

I’m not religious by any means, but I do believe in demons and angels. It’s like the whole every person has light and dark in them concept. We as humanity are the demons and angels. The trick is to not let ourselves become consumed into the Devil…or God for that matter. Both are just as horrible in their own right. The thing is that when you drown yourself in the dark and let the Devil in for so long, finding the light…finding an angel or two…it becomes a lost art. So when he showed I panicked. I am still panicking. It’s unfamiliar territory that I am not capable of handling correctly. The way my brain processes has been tainted and it’s going to be a very long time until I get it functioning again…but when I do, I know I will have him to thank.

Many a better humans than I have made the mistake of walking away from such a blessed situation…and there is still time for me to fuck it up also, and with my track record I really wouldn’t put it past me. But the best advice I can give to you if you happen to find yourself in a similar situation…don’t fight it, just let it be and allow yourself to…smile, laugh…allow the happy to be there without punishment and guilt. Trust me, it’s hard. To be honest I don’t know who I even wrote this for, you guys or me.


Lexi Lexi Spino is a 24 year old poet from the small sad town of York, PA. When she isn’t writing or slaying burritos at the locally owned shop Roburritos, she is moshing around local punk shows, running around like a five year old with her daughter, and judging/supporting other people’s art. She is currently in the middle of editing and publishing her second poetry book [her first one called I’m A Wanderer, Not A Runaway is still for sale though limited supply] and is also working on a novel that will most likely never be finished. Follow her on instagram at lexi.spino for upcoming shows and info on her second book, as well as witty one liners and drunk short poems. You can also find her on facebook at www.facebook.com/lexi.spino.
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