Am I a good person?
Underneath all these layers
(The layers of an onion)
[Like Shrek, full of layers]
-pretty sure the onion quote is dead-
I don't want you
to remove my layers
to find a person that
isn't the same on the outside.
Onions are perfect
because with each layer
they look exactly alike.
If you took me apart
we'd find the person
I think you want me to be.
(If you took me apart you'd be a murderer)
[Don't try to find out, organs don't talk.]
-The mess would be such a hassle-
I wish someone could tell me.
It's all in the way,
they're all that we have.
I've been quoting the onions almost my entire life, I don't know if that's how great the line is or how much I haven't grown. Could be both. Pro tip: turn on a fan when cutting onions makes the process a whole lot easier.
Is The Purpose of Life
Just to be the first
To beat or cheat Death?
For The Grim Reaper stands supreme.
Some trees have endured
For nearly five thousand years.
And so-called immortal jellyfish
Back to childhood
Sort of like Doctor Who.
But no-one has achieved mortality.
All we can do is pass the baton
To the next generation.
On and on.
Smart science may yet allow us
To modify our genes
And make Regeneration
Or maybe transfer
Into some computer
Or Virtual World.
Who knows what our technology
Might do for us?
The Spiritual Way
Remains our only hope
Of Salvation from Death
© PB 23\10\2020 (2).
A walk through the journey of life,
taking a stroll on the beach side
Looking into oblivion as the sea meets the sky
The dark of nights engulfs my soul
poisoning my mind and raising questions.
"Who am I?"
"What do I stand for?"
"Do I have a purpose?"
The questions echo in my head,
the darkness mocks me with silence
and then it struck me.
My existence was never meant to be.
After all this.
I was only meant to die.
not even a speck of dust,
in this entire universe,
I am an indistinct part of the dark night sky.
"Does writing change you as a writer?"
"Yes it does, my voice turns into
the words inside your mind."
"But why can't I
remember you well?"
"Maybe you didn't keep the words
in your head."
"Even if I feel you enough?"
"Then you must've kept them
in your heart instead."
This is why I still write, to make sure I will be remembered—merely through my words.
I don’t want to die, but I’m indifferent to live.
I don’t want to join this cult.
But, I don’t want to leave.
They say we need purpose
But what if I was chosen not to have one?
What if my purpose is to make others feel better for having one?
At least they’re not me.
I don’t want to die, but living is not fun
It’s just navigating through things without a map, with no solid truth
And every decision affects you, except you don’t know how
And every decision is haunted with a “what if”?
And every decision is plagued with a “I should have…”
The gods won’t save you.
Psychics don’t know.
And the wise haven’t traversed your waters.
None the wiser.
When you lose someone, people say they don't probably deserve you or they are not worth it and stuff,
But deep down you know they were worth selling your soul.
No matter how lame or self-destructive the aspects of love are, we still would choose to feel the pain, the rage, the anger, the love, the kisses, the slightest touch on our waist and cheeks, the endless stare into the eyes filled with love that reflects the depth of an abyssal gorge, the never-ending feeling of wants and being wanted, because what more is there that sets us apart from the non-living elements of this world.
Love is a gift.
i somehow have
to slice up
these vast expanses
into minute pieces
I live deep inside my own head.
I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever make it out.
I don’t know what living is anymore.
I’m never fully present.
There’s always a piece of me off somewhere else.
My mind wonders off...
I don’t even have control of it anymore.
I do it subconsciously.
I’ve been in my own head for so long now.
I don’t know where it all began.
When I was in 5th grade I became a “woman.”
I was also hurt deeply by many people that year.
Friends introduced me to things a little girl should never be exposed to.
Then middle school was tragic.
I was hurt more times than I can count.
Maybe that’s when the day dreaming began.
The real world hurt me so badly that I had to create my own world.
My own reality.
After awhile I stopped knowing the difference.
Reality vs Fantasy
What is there to pursue in this reality?
Motivation left me years ago.
I beg her to come back but she never does.
Why should I pursue dreams in the real world, when I can achieve so much more in my world.
I guess that’s why Motivation left me.
She served no purpose in my life anymore.
I now live for the small things in the real world.
Seeing a new movie. Eating at my favorite restaurant. Hanging out with my best friend.
I’ll save the big stuff for my world.
you can think of
and talk to
for hours on end
both of you
to different dimensions
exploring each other
through the mind
with this person
in your life
the most important things,
things you're looking forward to
you can latch onto
when life is too hard to contemplate
this person goes out of their way
to pick you up from the ocean's deep end
they ask you how your days have been
without you by their side
they instantly regret
all the plans they've made
that exclude you
they are so deeply vested
despite the water below
that slowly pulls them in
above the waters
that is all that matters to them.