In a world of gorged overweening wobbleston folk, it can be difficult to allow yourself the reprieve of natural existence. We all arise in the same cadence and our attrition follows in similar suit. Release yourself into the infallible manor of mystery and truth. Escape the life of perpetuating death, by finding solace within yourself.
There is nothing that needs cumbersome labor, let your body rise in the manner of a child. Accept the world and free your shackles of desolation.

“we should cast aside all childish games that fetter and exhaust body, speech and mind; and stretching out in inconceivable nonaction, in the unstructured matrix, the actuality of emptiness, where the natural perfection of reality lies, we should gaze at the uncontrived sameness of every experience, all conditioning and ambition resolved with finality.”

Climbing up my throat
Fingers like spider legs
Choking me from the inside

Heat that builds inside my head
Waiting for my brain to melt
Pouring out of my eyes

The scratching of skin
Biting my lip until it bleeds
Pulling my hair until numb

Angry gnashing teeth
Hot, sorrowful tears
Wails of agony

Maturing in what I do not say
Living in what I do
Manifesting in my every action
Reveling in my every nonaction

Quiet
Loud
Watching
Waiting

My nightmare
My crutch
My curse
My life