I followed blindly
Not knowing where I was going
Not know I was going
Took every step with out looking
Took everything lightly
Like it didn't matter
But I didn't know that it didn't matter
And thats why it did matter
I followed blindly
Until I realized
That there was nothing to follow
Nowhere to go
I started doubting everything
Was anything real?
Did anythig matter?
And thats when it stopped mattering
When I questioned whether it mattered or not
I was no longer sure of anything
Lost in a realm of uncearinaty
It destroyed me
The me that had not been real
And brought out the real me
And the real me is the one who doesn't exist
The one who doesn't matter
The one that will never matter
The one inside my head
The one with no end
Just like these words
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
The notness of who you once weren't is who you must be. But you must be able to distinguish can from not to do why.
And why is the essence of who. But can who understand why? It is a mystery. A mystery created by its self for the sole reason of where.
And when I say why you can not answer because where isn't existence in your realm that you made not to be in fear of being.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
What is the final treatment for bees?
What is it that keeps the floating buzzes of noise from reaching the ears of the ones who eat golden sap?
What makes us so superior to our selves that we are who we are and not what we are?
How is it that every time there is another counter at the end its always closed?
Why do we endure what we endure and not what others endure?
How is it that the quackles of time aren't tangible?
Where do all these lights comes from?
Could they be a a mere network full of imagination?
The imagination that we use to believe in illusions.
The creaming heat of a bagle.
The freezing cold of a near by possibility.
Everything.
With out the the E.
Nothing is left.
You are what you keep your self from falling into a black hole.
Bur why don't you try to stop it?
As long as a anything can get, does it ever end?
Man made or not.
What makes the making if a maker is what makes the maker of nothing.
Maybe.
Too many possibilities.
This or that?
Is that two?
But what is two?
A free form of a limited end?
I think not.
I think not as a thinker but as a stair case to understand what brings everything to being into words.
If you ever do end, then you are an illsuion of your self. And you do not exist.
You keep spinning with out any direction.
But yet what is it that is?
Gobble gobbke gobble.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
What is it
That you do with in your head?
That you can not do with out?
What is it that transpires through your brain limited by your actions due to social incapabilities?
What are the trains that you ride on through the circuits in your brain made of?
Impossibilities due to a breakdown in the laws of physics?
A flaw created by the treatment of another flaw of the universe?
A baby held back in its own bliss by its own supreme intelligence?
A fellow team mate who can not be with out the being of others?
A trusted business man who is never busy?
Or is it the main flow of energy through the tunnels of time under the watchful eye of eternity?
What is it that you do in your head?
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Yesterday feels so far behind me
Tomorrow feels like it will never come
And the present
Even tho i'm in the present it feels like its so distant from me
I can't live in it
So where does that leave me
Some place where time does not exist
Some place where life or death doesn't matter
Some place far away from the world of the people
Some place in my head
Some place where no one else can be
All alone
No trace of existence
No clue of trees
No essnece
No being
Just me
And nothing
Empty
Dark
Emotions
Fear
Anger
Hate
Love
Over here I exist as what I am
And not as who I am
Over here I understand why
Over here lies everything that does not exist
Over here I am present
Over here I reside
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
The feels
An illusionary world of emotions
A platform filled with people who are blindfolded by illusions
Begging to be pulled out but insisting they stay
The feels
A realm of darkness that pulls reality right from under your feet
Its a place where the weak go to get stronger
And fools go because they know no better
The feels
A type of disease that once infected only curable by logic
An illness that creates non existent false truths
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
What is it that holds me back?
Stops me from shouting out how much I hate you
Or love you
I don't even know
There a ball of fury festering deep with in me
But it just won't show its self
It choses to hide among one of my many masks
The masks that have decieved many including me
What is this boiling sensation that grinds my emotions into nothingness
Leaves me with nothing to feel
But its own emptiness
Strips me of everything that I knew my self to be
What are you
What do you want from me
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 10:15 AM UTC
I hate how quick silly human beings are to judge
Just becuase i'm a teen and I wear baggy clothes
Doesn't mean i'm mean and don't understand your pains
Just becuase I have headphones on
Doesn't mean i'm a teenage punk who doesn't doesn't know any better
Just because I smoke
Doesn't mean you can point me out to your children as a bad example
If you could only see your own faults first
Oh how you'd wish to be in someone elses place
But that wouldn't fix anything
No matter who you are
You will always have faults
You can only acheive what you percieve as perfection
Once you fix the flaws you can fix and accept the flaws that you can't
But all these silly humans do is point fingers at others to cover up their own faults
Such silly creatures
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Appreciate what you have they say
Some people would die for the life you have they say
They're so materialistic
They don't realize that a life filled with luxuries is not what makes us happy
How can I appreciate what I have without having the emotions to appreciate it?
How can I appreciate what I have if its not what I need?
I never asked to be be born into this wealth.
All I need to appreciate life is for someone to appreciate me for who I am.
It might look like I can live a great with all of what I have
But that would only be true if I were to be like the rest of them
But no
I'm not
And no one can blame me for that
Am I to suffer for accepting who I am
I don't think so
I won't let it happen
And whoever thinks they can make me suffer for being who I am they can go and **** them selves
Even if the people who don't accept me for who I am are my family
This has no end
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Just the though of being. What does it bring to your mind? What is it to be? Or is it even to be to really be? Can we be with just our physical existence? Or does being go deeper than that? Does being mean that we have to exist in more than just the physical realm? Does being mean we have to be part of somethig beyond our imaginations? Being part of a realm of reality that isn't imagined by our brains? Is being something that surpasses life and death? Being is the essence of existing. To be we must understand what it is to exist as what we are and not as who we are. To exist we must go beyond life and death and enter a realm that excceds time. A realm where we are exist as beings who do not live nor die but just exist. A realm where everything is real and non of the illusions that we see in our physical existence exists. That is to be with out words. Thats is to be with everything that we are and not with what we aren't. That is the existence of the essence of being an existing being.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC