Nov 2014
I guess I'm at a point where it's hard to accept the fact that these facts aren't always facts, something like a trap in an acid bath. We all feel the rath but refuse to do the math, with no plan of attack to give more than we lack. Our world is a black cat, and we still blame it all on bad luck.
How many times have we said that this life just simply isn't enough? I guess there's simplicity in giving up, and that specifically stems from a gut of empty authenticity. We ARE electricity, but instead of honing in on ourselves, we fixate on the T.V. screen. It makes me want to scream, honestly.
I'm so sick of the mean hearted schemes that are believed to be what we "need". The generation of children that don't even know what it means to claim how they want to be seen.
We lack ownership.
To be real is to keep your soul clean in a ***** room, to bloom through all of this rain and the gloom, to never doom another person, because you have never walked in their shoes. You dive in the chemically toxic pool, and drown others for being "thirsty". I think we are all parched for some mercy on this journey. We cannot demand perfection when we, ourselves, could never be worthy. I guess I'm just in a hurry to correct a vision that remains so blurry. I guess I'm in a vortex of complex rejects who think it's best to neglect the steps to reach an untouched depth.
Hold your respect, I am not done yet.
I guess this life runs through my pen. I might run out of ink before I reach the end, because I feel myself talking to these lines like they're my only friends. I guess I'm saying that I think people pretend because they don't know how to ascend beyond energies that only suspend.
If I could lend you peace of mind, I would crack my veins all over these lines,
seal it in an envelope, and you could read behind my eyes. I guess you would be surprised that sometimes these words only flow like water because I cry at the sight of the world's demise.
- L.G.
How many times have we said that this life just simply isn't enough? I guess there's simplicity in giving up, and that specifically stems from a gut of empty authenticity. We ARE electricity, but instead of honing in on ourselves, we fixate on the T.V. screen. It makes me want to scream, honestly.
I'm so sick of the mean hearted schemes that are believed to be what we "need". The generation of children that don't even know what it means to claim how they want to be seen.
We lack ownership.
To be real is to keep your soul clean in a ***** room, to bloom through all of this rain and the gloom, to never doom another person, because you have never walked in their shoes. You dive in the chemically toxic pool, and drown others for being "thirsty". I think we are all parched for some mercy on this journey. We cannot demand perfection when we, ourselves, could never be worthy. I guess I'm just in a hurry to correct a vision that remains so blurry. I guess I'm in a vortex of complex rejects who think it's best to neglect the steps to reach an untouched depth.
Hold your respect, I am not done yet.
I guess this life runs through my pen. I might run out of ink before I reach the end, because I feel myself talking to these lines like they're my only friends. I guess I'm saying that I think people pretend because they don't know how to ascend beyond energies that only suspend.
If I could lend you peace of mind, I would crack my veins all over these lines,
seal it in an envelope, and you could read behind my eyes. I guess you would be surprised that sometimes these words only flow like water because I cry at the sight of the world's demise.
- L.G.
