I find myself sitting in the same place I sat two years ago in Southeast Asia.
I’d come here often to study things of interest, but many times I’d simply sit and do nothing.
Having tried to do what I thought I was supposed to in the world, and sensing the futility in this, I stopped “trying” altogether.
The desire to escape to far-off lands magnifies.
I find myself growing evermore tired of the monotony of comfort and familiarity.
Sometimes things feel so meaningless and disappointing that I just want to give it all up.
It’s 1:56am. Tired. Stayed up past 6am last “night”. Strange dreams. Woken without my consent.
But I cannot sleep. I toss and I turn, and overheat for no apparent reason.
(Was reading about an ancient master visiting his master’s grave.
A hurricane of bittersweet nostalgia hits me like a truck when I listen to those rough and growly guitars captured on my phone in that little industrial warehouse.
I don’t know if you know this, but we were actually starting to get pretty good.
I come now, having pulled the string from my teeth.
Arriving at the shore, drenched, and covered in sand.
“The truth is God,” he said.
But who said?
And where did I come from?
The underworld is full of lies, and being thrust from it leaves one exquisitely disarrayed.
“Perfect purity is possible if you turn your life into a line of poetry written with a splash of blood.”
Yukio Mishima
It has come to my attention that when I become lethargic and feel trapped in my mind that something is off.
As I sit here alone and write this, I feel enormous peace.
It is possible this peace can only be felt when alone.
In fact, I am almost certain of this — at least for me, in this stage of my life.
The truth comes down on me hard.
I have been caught in a tormentful spell: the natural result of living in domestic hell.
I have been chasing things I thought I’d learned not to chase long ago.
I have come so far, but I have not been able to overcome the constant torrents life throws at a person.
… Read the rest “Falling Hard on the Rocky Floors of Reality”
It’s late
And I’m still seeking
The keys
Delicately disarming, a time bomb
Seeing that which needs to be seen
Before a wheel starts spinning
And whisks me away
Before the marbles start rolling
In every direction
Nothing’s as it seems
This I know
And I’m terrified
Of what’s left
Lurking below
The fog
I can’t hear you.
Speak louder.
What is it that you want?