They say "it's never easy to go home"
Which is true, sometimes.

I went home today to the hole where, until two days ago
the house where I had spent most of my life before marriage
stood.
It's gone now leaving only a hole
and as big as the hole looked
in the bright sunshine of a Connecticut Sunday in May
It is not as big, I know, as the hole in my sibling's heart
having had to say good bye to the only house
she had ever known.

I am worthless
I am useless
I am broken
I can not do anything right
And I don't have a talent
I can't dance or sing or play an instrument

So when I take my blade
And create a pattern
A picture
I finally
Have a talent
In that moment
I am an artist.

I finally stopped wanting you,
But now I crave your touch.

I finally stopped needing you,
But you give me a sort of rush.

I finally got over you,
But now not so much.

I ask myself
Can I do this any longer?
Cause I deserve better
and you do as well
and all I've wanted
from the day we met
was to make you happy
like you made me someday
but it no longer makes
sense now
I say as I turn away
because the pain is too much now
If only you'd ask me
please stay.

What is life?
What is death?

What is waste?
What is purpose?

What is good?
What is evil?

What is?

All different, yet all one.
Nihilistic ambiguity,
What is?

If you have thought the thoughts,
You might be like me- trapped.
What is?

Is our purpose to be successful?
To leave something behind?
To be remembered?
To be a conqueror and a Man of Free Will?
Or are we just a doll of rag in Fate's playhouse?

What is life without death?
What is good without evil?
What is pleasure without suffering?
Are they not equals?

Such is life in her horrific beauty,
Deceptively, yet excitingly... ambiguous.

What is Churchill without ******?
What is Richard without Saladin?
What is humanitarianism without dehumanization?
Are they not both equally powerful?
However, are they also not both one?

What is the difference between a terrorist and a freedom fighter?
One is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do not believe in,
While the other is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do believe in.
Wait...

What is justice and what is tyranny?
What is moral and what is immoral?
Well...
The true question is, to whom is it a moral law and to whom is it an immoral law?

That is when you realize, that everything is one.

Truths become lies,
Lies become truths,
Good become evil,
Evil become good,
Hate become love,
Love become hate,
Justice become unjust,
Injustice become just.

Meaningful becomes meaningless,
As a couple's carnation is destined to wither and turn to dust.

Yet, in it's beauty, both sarcastic and cruel,
The meaningless becomes meaningful.
Being trapped sets you free.

And that is when you realize,
Life is not about being told what is right or wrong.
Life is not about leading the way,
Nor is it about following a person.
It is not about following a code,
A tradition, or a set path.

What is, becomes up to you.
What you believe in,
What is just,
What is moral,
Is something only you can tell yourself.

You may learn from others.
However, nobody reads the same sentence the same way.
And even on the same roads nobody has the same journey.

There is no purpose to anything,
There is no good,
There is no free will,
There is no fate,
There is no truth,
Nor is there a lie.
Everything is meaningless...

All meaningless... until, you breathe meaning into them.

In a way, you are just a passing moment in this Universe.
A tock on a ticking clock.
A small ant in the cosmic world.
A weakling whose death day is already marked on the calender.

Yet, until that moment, and until that day comes.
Without you, the Universe has no meaning.
Without you, there are no truths, no morals, no goals, and no purpose.

For you breathe purpose into this world,
As you write your infinite story into this leather bound diary of life.

I'm at my wit's end.
Fed up, burned out,
sick and tired.
Racing through alcohol fueled depression
because I'm not free, to be me.
Judged, criticized, crucified
held to the expectations
of other people's self-serving morality.

I'm a cog in a machine,
rolled under the wheels,
of a small business owner's
capitalist pipe dream.

I'm a pawn in a game
of war of money of politics.
Mislead, misdirected.
mission critical prime directive.

It's a story as old as "civilization"
all of this dehumanization.
Turning me into something
that serves you better.

I'm warning people
to stay away from me
because I see through their ****
and its ******* on ******* on ******* on *******.

I'm warning people
I can't take much more
because every human being
is an ******* and a *****.
Because we put these labels
on being truthful and free.
Because someone put a label on you
and now you put one on me.
Because someone taught you
its okay, to be
ignorant and mean.

And now I, have become
indignant and belligerent
which is just one step away
from being just like you.

But how do I move away?
Do I pack up the truck
and literally move away?
to where?
Are people somehow better somewhere?
Or do I just get as far away
as I can from them, from you?

Living off the grid
makes it hard to get laid.
Living off the land
makes it hard to get paid.
And you've been raised
to be a slave,
a wage parasite
on a dying host.
You want more than to survive.
You want to thrive.
You want to live forever
but will die of cancer or suicide.

The baby jesus inside me
has its face smashed into a tv screen.
The buddha inside me
is tired of taking the blame.

If every step kills a bug
and every bite kills a plant
and every breath kills a microbe
and every death of a dictator kills a universe of bacteria
then the only right action is inaction
and every action is inherently wrong.
Morality is a psychosomatic symptom
and our system is inherently flawed.

I try to escape and it seems like there's no way.
There's no light at the end of the tunnel,
and no traction on the corpses of the fallen.
There's a dream of hermitage, and the sadness that follows.

There is sadness in every corner bar and every heartbeat.
Sadness in every wilted limb and worried brow.
Sadness in every frustrated plea for release.
Sadness in the teardrops of the creation.

Sadness tumbling down like shards of glass
from the millions of dreams
broken by the machine.
Constant grinding.

I miss you less and less each day
and that breaks my heart in every way.


                                                ↠mndi➣

We buried the truth somewhere in this valley of lies,
Somewhere beneath countless years of nostalgic regrets and shattered dreams.

Its imbedded somewhere between foraged memories and our unbroken hearts.

We dare not unearth it
because our self induced amnesia will forsake us,
intuition will deceive us and
our thoughts will shun us.

So we stumble and stomp
over germinations of a colder tomorrow
but we let them grow
because we know

that the harvest will fruit its rewards,even if we are apart.