Apr 2015
They found the contours of my fingerprints, that led them to letters of a name that I don’t go by.
My heart beats flat lining, the blood still carries the lightning of my spirit,
hitherto which was lost in the dark fog of the forest.
Faces disfigured upon the bark of the trees,
laughing at my stiletto, and my shadow laughing right
along with them.
It mustn’t take long for these sleeping giants to wake,
before they look upon the mundane, and decide chaos is what the world
needs.
My lungs are black as midnight on a moonless night, the cigarette smoke is always calling out my name, the ink runs black & red down my ivory skin; depicting universes untold. It’s been a long while since I’ve put words to paper, the paper shies away from the pen like a knife.
I’m sick, in my body and mind; I’m losing all I’ve fought for, pouring out of my ears, like waterfalls of knowledge that I need to know. My mind is laughing at itself, with no where to run I must confront my own ideas. I must fill in the blanks, because nothing or no one will fill them in for me. I must constantly ask myself why?, why, why, why. Why is all of this? Why am I? Why are you? Why...
I’m constantly reading that “you must make it happen”, but I’m in a state of disorientation upon the matter. What is there to make happen? Can I change the scope of the world, just for it to change in another generation or the one after that, when they look back upon our barbaric ways and weep for us. I could have fun? Be a joyous individual whose whole life is about the laugh, the flash of gum and teeth and saliva. Should I be solemn, and force my beliefs upon others and scare them with tales of a fiery pit below the earth where all bad souls and non believers go? Or should I sit, should I wait for my demise. Where I do neither good nor harm, where neutrality bores into my soul. I am neither evil nor good, I live for the world, and I die for it as well. I’m alive to simply perish; and it’s a beautiful concept. Ying and yang, temporary and forever.
My heart beats flat lining, the blood still carries the lightning of my spirit,
hitherto which was lost in the dark fog of the forest.
Faces disfigured upon the bark of the trees,
laughing at my stiletto, and my shadow laughing right
along with them.
It mustn’t take long for these sleeping giants to wake,
before they look upon the mundane, and decide chaos is what the world
needs.
My lungs are black as midnight on a moonless night, the cigarette smoke is always calling out my name, the ink runs black & red down my ivory skin; depicting universes untold. It’s been a long while since I’ve put words to paper, the paper shies away from the pen like a knife.
I’m sick, in my body and mind; I’m losing all I’ve fought for, pouring out of my ears, like waterfalls of knowledge that I need to know. My mind is laughing at itself, with no where to run I must confront my own ideas. I must fill in the blanks, because nothing or no one will fill them in for me. I must constantly ask myself why?, why, why, why. Why is all of this? Why am I? Why are you? Why...
I’m constantly reading that “you must make it happen”, but I’m in a state of disorientation upon the matter. What is there to make happen? Can I change the scope of the world, just for it to change in another generation or the one after that, when they look back upon our barbaric ways and weep for us. I could have fun? Be a joyous individual whose whole life is about the laugh, the flash of gum and teeth and saliva. Should I be solemn, and force my beliefs upon others and scare them with tales of a fiery pit below the earth where all bad souls and non believers go? Or should I sit, should I wait for my demise. Where I do neither good nor harm, where neutrality bores into my soul. I am neither evil nor good, I live for the world, and I die for it as well. I’m alive to simply perish; and it’s a beautiful concept. Ying and yang, temporary and forever.
