when Whitman wrote, "I sing the body electric"

I know what he
meant
I know what he
wanted:

to be completely alive every moment
in spite of the inevitable.

we can't cheat death but we can make it
work so hard
that when it does take
us

it will have known a victory just as
perfect as
ours.

often it is the only
thing
between you and
impossibility.
no drink,
no woman's love,
no wealth
can
match it.
nothing can save
you
except
writing.
it keeps the walls
from
failing.
the hordes from
closing in.
it blasts the
darkness.
writing is the
ultimate
psychiatrist,
the kindliest
god of all the
gods.
writing stalks
death.
it knows no
quit.
and writing
laughs
at itself,
at pain.
it is the last
expectation,
the last
explanation.
that's
what it
is.
from blank gun silencer - 1991

I'm beside you in your mind and I'm with you in your heart,
Don't be afraid because pain is merely an art
To which we can dance and let the bad times remind
That the good days shall come with no need for a rewind.

I am nothing.
I'll never be anything.
I couldn't want to be something.
Apart from that,
I have in me all the dreams in the world.

I like observing people
but it also makes me feel very uncomfortable
I was always told not to stare
because staring is rude
But isn’t that what people watching is?
except that there’s thought behind it and the mind is working
no one else can tell the difference between a thoughtless stare and a people watching gaze
so I’ll just look down instead





People watching

Warm blankets
Cold thoughts
So many dreams
And so few that I caught

The lie that I lived
And the truth that I missed
The waves that drowned
And the sands that dryed

A plan that wasn't followed
A world that was different
The mind that was tricked

To think through

The perceptions that fell
And the paths that rose
The erroneous conceptions
And the destroyed fictions

The new world isn't
What I thought it would be
The cross on my map
Wasn't what it should be
After all I am lost
With no treasure on my chest
Witless, that quest,
That never was and never will be.

It comes and goes
Those sensations, those blows.
My spirit found me again
Caught me off guard, didn't knew we had connection
It reminds me and remakes me again
Though I don't need it, I don't need affection
And I am concentrating on racionality to avoid my spirituality
But it's the 7th sense and I can't stop its *******.
It's a ****** battle against the unavoidable
While all I want is to stay in the void fable
It's so comfortably numb and the world is rough
So leave me be, leave myself, release my being, create something obtainable;
Live in fantasy, be something else, ease your ageing and taste everything reachable.
But not me, I am one without a scent
I am a black canvas trying to be a paint
Everything just disappears in me
I am a black hole absorbing all and turning it to nothing
I am hopelessness. Apsens and I are tyed together
The absence is what dyed my conscienceness
I feel nothing because for every passing second I am less and less
I'm the embodiment of emptyness.