18.2.23

The whole album a poetic chef-d'œuvre

.

 I'll get through this, yes? 

(I TRIED)

I sway to a different light

1.  

a while ago I wrote:

My days carry so little weight they are turning into spumes and spite,

sullen in my upturned palms facing the sun.

The spree of its fervor all amber and warm against my skin

but I can feel nothing more

than a perpetual ache, miserable in its potency.

There is a force of resentment pushing its way through me,

like a gust of wind sweeping streets clean in its passing.

Exiled from my own flesh,

suspended in  a continuum of regret.

I am going, going,

gone.

2.  

I am in awe of time.

This strange, seemingly sentient being.

And at its core an uncompromising fluency,

like soft, loving waves carrying me.

I see glistening hues of sunlight on grand bodies of water,

a meditation of blue and greens bleeding through clear skies

along with tides that can’t seem to decide.

Ebb after ebb,

pulling away from me like lovers leaving at first light

just so they can come rushing in again like fools.

I find peace in their rhythmic cadence,

in repetition and in knowing.

I feel the passing transience of rough seas

and every other fleeting element immensely, especially so today.

As if to lift and hold each strand of earth’s fabric in perfect clarity.

Once falling apart at the seams,

now coming together in sureness and in light.

Just as I am slowly,

Transcending the past.

               

             Now at twenty one,

I am beginning to feel more and more

like an orb of glee-

all-embracing and remembering yet forgiving.

I am swelling with content,

beaming with a radiance no longer blinding.

I feel thoroughly human.

I am home.

FIGHT/FLIGHT.

                                                                        

I sat up in a swift, decisive motion of reflex that night and I was certain it was one in repulsion. 

My last memory before snapping into a state of consciousness was of a warm red sun in the distance, drawing closer and closer with a piercing radiance of light my body could no longer contain.

 Like wild fire set alight in a sea of moving clouds, like blood seeping into and smearing white fabric crimson red, was I losing my mind? To think that it was staring me down with all its unfaltering sureness. But that did not matter, as the atoms in my body have made up theirs - repelling in apprehension, as they often do in the presence of great, engulfing energies. //

Funny how irony works, I figured, for all I want is for it to give my fading facade of optimism a reboot, for it to anchor me down; love me steady, love me strong, love me whole again. | 

VULTURES .

Twenty one and I'm only beginning to realise how spirituality and religion are two concepts that are not as intertwined as I previously thought them to be- a shallow understanding which is barely the tip of the iceberg.
And it got me thinking about everything else in life I might have misunderstood. All these contradictions, threats to our values and having to make choices that don't serve the whole of us,  are they just phases of confusion that wear off as you grow older? And when that happens is it even a good thing? Or does it just mean we have officially programmed ourselves into this system of a dumbed down domesticated generation? We're taught to be slaves to the system, yet brainwashed enough to think that this is the ideal life. Is it though, or it is just a life with every detail curated to live up to expectations people have of you?

Advertisements telling us what to buy, what we need to 'complete' our lives as if they're not just euphemisms for 'let us bleed you dry for our sake because you'll never suffice- not until you have this!'
Identities and personalities diluted to watered-down nothingness because social media has got you thinking, acting, behaving like everyone else. 
Purposes shifted, potentials falling short because we're far too distracted by every other superficial thing that we're losing who we are in the first place.   
                                                                                                                                                        
So you walk the streets and you imagine bumping shoulders with intellectually sophisticated people with respected ideals, money in the bank and all that jazz with empty hearts and dead eyes, what are they missing? 

The vulture flies high, but what does it feed on? Where does it land? 

I N T E R L U D E

I guess space and time, 

takes violent things, angry things 

and makes them kind. 

You can love different sounds, 

 with varying degrees,

Y

varying reasons,

But I'll admit, 

                                                                                                       - Sleeping at last. 

 nothing has came close to feeling quite as relevational as theirs. 

"IT'S NOT GOOD; IT'S NOT BAD- IT IS WHAT IT IS."

Ugh, being negative is not my usual self (perhaps not even at all myself at the presence of other people) then again I'd like to believe this is just perspective based on sheer observation. -that's what she said- 

Anyway, because a) my sleeping habits are being a bitch to me again b) my brain just won't shut up and c) honestly, I can only write at ungodly hours, I've arrived at a conclusion that may/may not be what I still hold to be true next year, next month or even tomorrow. Which is this- 

Humans bring each other more suffering than the contrary.

I guess it only means to say that if given the ultimatum to choose one perspective over the other- all things considered, I find it easier to find happiness without other people than it is to shut all the harm from them out. To push the blame of all your endless despair on people is a cheap, cheap move, but then again blame is such a dirty word. Sometimes the simple understandable logic is to just allow ourselves to call it tracing the effect back to its cause. Haven't we already seen one too many instances of people with nothing but good intentions done dirty by other people? And when does understanding their pain cease to be enough?

<Then again what entitlement do we have to blame anything when we're machines of destruction ourselves. Haven't we left enough marks on earth that weren't all so pretty as we come and go? Maybe if we held all human life in a snow dome then we'd see it. We're burning a hole through each other and then, the entire place we call home. Funny how when things are done subtly and slowly with occasional bursts of self-righteousness we don't realize how we're putting everything we touch into a state of annihilation. Maybe one day as we watch everything go up in flames in a fire so engulfing nothing escapes, bringing all our sins with it then destruction will start looking like alchemy. Maybe then we can begin again.>

Settling on an opinion and tying it to how you think the world works feels good, because then there comes the acceptance part. When you take uncertainty out of the equation you're left to deal with what you've got; hence the post title. 

If all of us are going to suffer in one way or the other, the only question in line is how much of it we're gonna have to take and for what cause.

If all of us is going to suffer anyway, let's accept the fact that when the purpose of your life extends beyond yourself and happiness takes the form of fulfillment, a good life is not necessarily better than a life well-lived. 

If all of us are going to suffer anyway, here's to finding things/people worth suffering for.

DISENGAGEMENT IS BLISS (or not)

               

                                                                  2:41am realising that if there were a limit of times you can 

                                                  loop a playlist until it arrives at a scientifically unhealthy amount, 

                                                  me playing Jaymes Young takes the cake. 

Why is it always hard to shake off this feeling of disconnection from where I belong and from everyone around me. It's like I'm too in over my head that it doesn't take long in every occasion for me to drift away into my own world. Being in a room full of people you'll start to wonder how people are made to be the person they are and if they ever feel just as trapped in their own skin as you do. And you wonder if you'd rather be like the kind of garbage people you secretly despise if ignorance meant you wouldn't have to see the problem with this entire generation and you'd be happier that way.

Isn't it odd no matter how much time you spend with someone, who you think they are is still only the side of them you're able to see through. (though the lack of substance in some makes them a whole lot more permeable) But this gap of misunderstanding is also what that allows us to have a protected sense of self that belongs to nobody but ourselves. To think that the true form of someone exists only in one dimension is a disgrace to the millions of years of human evolution we took to get where we are. 

But then there's this- when all of us are so different from each other the beauty of the world also becomes its problem. 
Truth is you'll always feel like you're all you have and the sad part about that are days when you don't even know if you like what you have.