made to only be unmade

lost in rearviews
in lush Virgin countryside suicides
“time to race”
downhill, thick as theives on the infinite horizon
bitterness and free falls
shreading bits of lithium
before chaos gains control.

made to only be unmade

A Funeral

There was a societal funeral in my heart as of 10pm that night on the 22nd of February of that year where everything was supposed to be for the better. I drove 30 minutes alone in the dark, down a stretch of road marked with the numbers 202, of tree lined perfect little houses and shopping malls, shouting “why!” I knew why. I just didn’t want to admit it.

however,

The vacancy in your eyes caused an avalanche to my stupidity. . . I’ll never be the same.

Thank you for that.

precious being

In a suicide poem written by desire between her and the aura of being a woman,

she realizes how lonely moments can be

but never stops to breathe.

On an avalanche of falsified hopes,

lacking the self esteem that she is capable of harboring,

she throws all her emotions on the floor,

believing she is not capable of anything other than moments…

she is a master of the art in finishing second best,

they love her as an impostor,

as much as they love a secret.

this is all she knows,

this is her emotional casualty.

Can hardly stand it

the noise in her head

Run past the red signal of stop

She’ll never wise up

She’ll never wise  up…

Writers Block

There is a little black spot on the sun today

it’s the same old thing as yesterday…

The Avalanche

Too much time left on the clock for a quick definition, a convinced understanding of what it means to love. Woke up with a sinister laugh from a dream that mimicked a reality too beautiful for the living. After feeling full and light in flight, I crashed at first sight of a pretentious daylight. Dying isn’t just relevant to the physical moment when the heart and the brain cease to give the body life. Dreams like to remind us of what we could have had. It will never be forgiving. We die several times in our lives. A waking death, I call it. It paralyzes the soul. The autopilot kicks in and breathing exists, just to breathe, to keep the body in motion, to repeat the algorithm of rhythms, set in stone by the maker. Nothing more. For if you take away logic and reason, our bodies operate in the same way. We all have caged hearts that palpitate at the slight touch of anothers fingertips, at someones gentle breeze of a breath on our necks, that wanting… but we are all elected this same fate. Some of us 10 times more than others. Thoughts are not easily settled, but rather constantly undressed and exposed. Crippling in our dreams most often. What does it matter anyway, if we’re all just dancing with lubricants of 8.0% by volume. Nothing is real, right? Maybe for some, comfort and clarity come without acknowledgment of human emotion, perhaps they are better off ignorant. Some of us find hope in the journey. Some give up at the very thought of picking up the pieces and trying again. Some of us pick up and make the same mistakes, that which makes us fools. The search for meaning may make us foolish. Maybe I like the foolish life.

A Variation of Words on the Mortal Life

been up all night
thinking of the words
the right words

to say about this & that

there are no “right” words…
for the simplicity of what I want to be less complicated,
breathes like a silhouette in the shape of a lobotomized mind.
gravity teaches me a lesson in wanting to fly
as if my time
is meant for a harsh becoming.
Just want to live & die
in a body, in a mind, free from catatonic realizations
a place I can call home.

The lunatic is a wakeful dreamer

Dreams are a short lived psychosis and psychosis is a long-lasting dream, according to Arthur Schopenhauer. Perhaps all beings then are uniquely psychotic in nature as life is just one huge psychotic episode.

I often wonder if it is possible to be constantly content. Humans that live in the realm of objects are caught in the complexities of desire therefore are constantly tormented by obtaining that specific object desire. A sensual gratification. The kind that tingles the fingers and toes. We ultimately can not avoid our need for desire. It is what gives us the will, the drive to pursue another day. However, malice and egotism have plagued this world of hierarchy as our ideas of what is considered desirable have turned into behavior that has turned us against ourselves. Perhaps some of our safest places are in our dreams.

Divine Assassains

the illusion spins on its axis
intoxicated on ideas of desire
vocal sequence modulated
bitter truth realized and devoured.

Surrender the bastard of a speckled faith
the true harborers of a hypocritical forgiveness
we must be floating in a systematically disturbed aura
as we lost another star in the sky today…

Losing the stars within the sky

Relativity of simultaneity is the concept that simultaneity is not absolute, dependent on the observer. It is impossible to say whether or not two events can happen at the same time. Every “thing” has it’s own reference to a particular time. I suppose there is no meaning then in the statement of the time to which an event happens. Perhaps thats why I feel as if I am moving at a stagnant speed. Which is no speed at all.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about time. The questions and answers we seek in order to further understand our purpose, our existence. Are we indeed born to pursue one particular interest that will shape the world we live in? What about floaters? a drifter in thought like myself, that wants to grasp all aspects of this tiny universe between fingertips and caffeinated beverages? It’s as if my slightly tilted axis, is spinning in time with the rest of world knowing what and where it needs to be, but I as an individual fall short of just 2 steps of grasping the moving picture. This is not acceptable to most people I know. Maybe I just know the wrong people. Maybe I’ll never truly know who I am in theory, but in essence that is what could be the definition of me. Chaotic.

The world however, is not sitting on a precise definition. It is naive to think we exist on perfect ground rules based on past events. To live in the past, is also sequential demise. But we do. We assume based on past events that future life can be predicted. maybe we can outline it, i would be a hypocrite if I said that I didn’t. We also assume that if something in the present resembles that of the past, that the outcome will be exactly the same. We have no proof that it will or it won’t. It’s like warning a city for a potential disaster. Scientists have been able to predict how many years apart a volcano erupts. According to scientists, Yellowstone park was on an eruption cycle of 600,000 years. The last eruption was roughly 640,000 years ago considering us long overdue for an eruption. There has been an interruption in the pattern now, therefore our previous theories have been proven wrong based on the past evidence. Our essential worry is that we will experience either another great triumph or another great misery when facing patterns. We have to always consider the unexpected because patterns themselves contain faults. All it takes is one slight crack in the universe to change the patterns we are accustomed to. So why should we worry over the inevitable things we can not control?

We make these definitions to communicate and understand. Lately I’m feeling a misfire in the communication spectrum and I’m not sure I want to understand anything that has a definition. I’ve been reading too much philosophy and I’m realizing why alcohol is important while devouring inquisitive thinking. Maybe the world could survive with a pencil through its gob. Although if the earth began to resemble that of a head, I might drink myself into a constant Freudian slip. I’m not sure if that even makes sense, but it sounded nice.

There are no deals that we can make with the universe. But we’re constantly making them.

I guess my point is, if I even have a point, that in order to function, there has to be a level of beliefs that make the masses feel safe. Science essentially is another form of religion. It gives the people a peace of mind as to why we exist. I don’t care why we exist. I just care about the time while I exist. I’m not just referring to science, clearly. I think what damages me the most is that I want to believe that it will all work out to what I’ve planned inside my head.

What if we live in different perspectives of ourselves? Maybe there are numerous perspectives a person can actually live. Each could be heaven & or hell, but we live it until we essentially get it “right”. That might be never, which could tumble us into an endless cycle of repetitions of disparity, hope, love, & happiness, and to me, that would make the most sense.

I’m here, we’re here, together.

and if it takes shit to make bliss well then I feel pretty blissfully.

The Preface

The conversation:

me: The relativity of Simultaneity boggles my mind

me: I always feel like the world is moving around me and i’m trying to grasp the moving picture

but really I’m the one moving

or am i?

fuckin A

hahaha

James: lol

James: well stand still

then u’ll find out

me: I am standing still. the world is definitely moving. i’m stagnant

me: i am a big fan of the philosophy of science. We are so vulnerable its awesome.

James: whatcha mean?

me: like this whole idea of space and time

nothing is what it seems

we see what we want to see

what is safe for our brains

i think thats why most scientists go mad

they depict the world into utter chaos

and can’t see it one sided

James: not only that

we are smaller than a grain of salt

shit

the sun is smaller than a grain of salt

compared to what we know exists

me: yeah exactly.

me: you could season the galaxy with our universe

James: lol