I have forged myself in hell and I’m not afraid to say it.
Did it have to be this way?
Of course not.
I’m just telling you like it is.
Wipe the blood from your nose Youngblood.
I already told you.
A being comes to another and asks, “How to be?”
A being laughs and groans.
If a being asks how to be, is he not ignorant of his own being?
He has likely discarded his own being long ago.
Swab the decks men, swab the decks. I’ve got the galley fully loaded and headed for outer haven. I’ve got my eyes toward the sky and beyond. My telescope turned into kaleidoscope. And that day in my tomb and I couldn’t see?
See I’m all these things and so are you,
Roguish saint and an angel, blue-eyed too
Learned from the mercs and bad guys too
Never bad to seek the truth even if you get lost too
Witch doctor, crypt stalker, tomb raider (see you later)
Ancient pyramids, ancient truths,
Tiny little diamonds plucked out the bottom of their tooth
Where am I at?
I is the only problem.
The idea that you exist is the problem
In separation of anybody
You will carry on after your body has disappeared
Because you are the indivisible that
Change eternal
Permanence is a delusion
Any and all ideas of permanence are the cause of all our suffering
We suffer for what?
A non-fictional account of a pathological pursuit.
An innocent offering.
A compassionate bleeding.
I have felt, in the most genuine sense, that there’s nowhere to go in this life.
And this was true. It is true.
But how could I know, I would find a valley so vast?
Wants us to drink rice liquor. Dinner table of a five-story townhouse. Works for the UN. Has been to my country. X bashful.
Just one of those if we must sir. Only if we must. Can of “Hanoi” goes to my head.
seasoned to taste, served with a smile
a part of me, as solitary as i am, as uninterested, disgusted, appalled, apathetic, about almost every one, and every thing,
i am still, quite terrified of being alone
not because of the solitude
but because i quite literally become some one
or some thing, entirely different
and i fall through the earth
Two worlds.
Paralyzed. Take me to cookie cutter island. Can’t hear the stark reality of it all. Afraid, aware, too awake? Something wrong? Thinking this is wrong is the problem? I don’t know
Nice cubed squares. Smutty ink. Preposterous mind fucks.
A selfish god wouldn’t make a very good one.
Good to who?
Primarily itself.
If it were selfish, it would experience the exquisite array of all the pains life has to offer.
Pain is pain.
But it’s an entirely different animal when it lives in existential terror.