Wistfully,
I wish I was watching the world from above
on a white flying fortress floating far away from the flora, fauna,
and the fickle fools who fight for nothing, fruitless.
Up on my cloud, my cleverness creates constructs.
These convey to me knowledge both cerebral and celestial.
This sends me higher, to the cosmos.
There, I get caught up in catechisms which force convulsions.
The spinning Sun stares into my silly soul. "Such stupidity!"
Scowling, I scorn the stars.
Further still I ascend, astounding the astral plane.
I acquire it all.
And now I know it is nothing.
Never have my nerves been so wracked.
I weep wildly wishing
for when I was waging war with a woman's warmth.
Oh, Gaia~
Waking up with wet eyes and wounded heart, I stand and walk.
I no longer wonder why.

I'm the anima.
I'm the evil.
I'm the sky.

I asked a vegetarian
“why are you a vegetarian?”
and he said:
In an ideal
joy-and-happiness society
would we foster
empathy, caring and compassion
between all people?
If people are unempathetic, uncaring and uncompassionate
to animals
would people also be
unempathetic, uncaring and uncompassionate
to the human-animal?
Thereby destroying
joy-and-happiness society?
And if so,
should we be
empathetic, caring and compassionate
to all animals?

If farm animals
feel pain and suffering,
should we be empathetic, caring and compassionate
to them too?
And stop slaughtering them!

"Having gone through it once did not mean it did not hurt the second time. It is painful, raw and heart-wrenching. But I know I am going to get through it. I know I have to invest in myself, the people who I love and love me back and invest in the things that make me feel better so that my past would not hold me captive. I know if I was to work for the better, I would be much happier with my present and would not go back to rekindle with my past as I would have accepted the suffering is part of the path of finding my strength and a better self."

- excerpt from an open letter

Acceptance
that experience is continuously changing
brings peace of mind.

Acceptance
that I must make continuous effort
to respond to continuously changing experience
brings peace of mind.

I try to sleep, I honestly try my best,
life would call me a mess.
But when the night comes and goes
As though the wind blows her away
I cant help but tear myself to pieces.
You might not understand the sleeplessness
But im sure you all know suffering.
The happy thoughts stuck on buffering
Spinning a wheel of sorry im not functioning.
Not today nor any other,
A constant "why do I bother"
Trying to recover from the last 52 hour
Binge watching of "something to do"
Just To keep myself from knocking a ***** or two
Loose from my scattered brain;
Splattered against the television
For hours on end because delusion
Is a better conclusion than depression.
Stuck in a fantasy that I can be super human
Rather than facing the contusion head on.
Putting a bandaid on the hole in my soul
Hoping that heroism is a contagious scroll
Through the cartoon section of the tv guide.
I hide in bed waiting for my bride,
My perfect life to fall into place
But all I face is static friction
Because the perfect life is fiction.
And ill lie awake till the day I die
Watching the world as my life goes by.
Suffering, like the rest.

I prepare for the worst
so that when it comes
I have wisdom
about what do do
to survive
and decrease my suffering
and increase my joy and happiness.

The pills remind her of him
His tongue leaves hers with and after taste
She smokes anything that’s laced
Because he can’t be erased
Imprinted on her brain
And all she’s left with is a wine stain on her sheets
And she breaths deep
She loves the way her heart beats
It races fast, and flys
From the poison and lies running through her veins
Because she’s lost without him
She loves to stay high
Because for a bit she forgets why she’s crying
And how it feels to be dying
She forgets about his touch
Because she drinks too much
She craves the taste
And she could so easily overdose on his pretty face

Love is a drug
And she can’t stop

prompt: write about the way the rain makes you feel

07/18/19
12:39 am

I've greeted grayer skies
behind my bedroom window
like new blossoming skin.
The rhythm of the pitter-patter,
like a serenade to summer,
like a late-season peach,
soft with many bruises.
Listen —
there’s a kind of tender
in the rain
that leaves one to their smallness
as the world washes away.
Tell me,
what is the right way to miss you?
Because I’ve peeled away every weaponry
I’ve built from the rubble,
tooth and nail,
clumsy hands,
bricked walls
tightly woven into suffering,
And yet I am still
a welcome mat
to your name.
I greet your presence,
like downpour--
teeth bared,
but no longer quivering.

mgv