If breath were God, and God was breath, then what is life? Is life then not God? And if you don’t believe in God, or at least not Godhead, does one not believe in life? Is this how a religious person thinks? But if you believe in life, then does that mean you believe in God? And why am I beginning to hate? I have never hated before. So I step back. What is this hate? What is this answer? It feels as if my hate is merely self protection; protection from love. I hate so I do not love, and that way they cannot hurt me. But is not hate it’s own pain; its own harm? In hating, am I not harming myself? Then really there is no protection, no safety, so hate is useless. Whether I am harmed by myself or another, I am still harmed. If there is no escape from harm, then how do I find and create the soft space to heal? What if I cannot find it within myself? What if there is no break? What if there is no out? Do we just break and break until we finally give up and die? Doesn’t anyone see this is wrong? “What?”, they might ask. Everything. Everything is wrong. The way we think, the ways we treat each other, our whole culture; it’s all wrong. We separate our minds, bodies, and souls, and everyone wonders why it all feels wrong. You have to be a psychopath to “succeed”, and everyone else is left, walked over; thinking it’s all their fault they don’t want that. It’s not that I’m not capable of the action, it’s that I refuse to be that person, that being that person would make me hate life, so I wont be that. I don’t want to be you, rich asshole, I just want to be allowed to succeed in my own right while NEVER being anything like you. In fact, you make me sick, but I’m not you, so I’ll let you be. Wake up, world! Wake up! I am a gentle person, and you wont let me live. I want to build, to learn, to create, to dream; and you crush me every move I make. I am hope, and life, and breath. Wake up! Think about your existence. Think about my existence. Think about our existence. Think about life. We’re all in this together, and unless we realize this, we’re all going to go down together. You cannot have me world; not until you give me a space to exist. Until then, I will be the ghost walking amongst you. Wake up, world, or I will never come. -ep
…there is a draining, a taming
I cannot face
cut from the shadows
adrift in the world of dreams
I am between the lines
and everything is fine
unless you know my secret meaning
hidden beneath the smiling stone
|—||Jon M. Chu (via theresavu)|
|—||Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters (via chuckpalahniuk)|
“It happens fast for some people and slow for some, accidents or gravity, but we all end up mutilated”
I miss having someone to sit on the porch or in the park with at night with a bottle of wine, and talk and smoke and drink until it’s time to stumble home.
3 poems from the other day’s poetry marathon:
In darkness we all wear faces
other than our own
different personas to uplift
and add sparkled disguises
for feelings we cannot bear to show
theatrical spicing for the plays of our lives
from our genetics
mirrored reflections of others glances
to dispel the accuracies
the little ones inside fear to show
In between the framework of our words
come the truths of memory
tales of our own myths
and achingly silent oral histories
the stars breathe transformation
and our bardic ancestors
weave epics within our words
and beating hearts
like the sound of the train
pulling down the line
under stars cycling along the web
weaving into memory.
Do not judge the process.
Do not be ashamed.
Do not be afraid
the colors speak for you
bringing the release
of all that you hold close to your chest
this hiding is not your teddy bear
but a paint brush on your skin
a watercolor’s flow on paper
the pastel’s gentle caress
the vibrancy of your joyous marker on pages of your journal
scrawling word upon ugly word
transformed to beauty
and pure, undiluted expression
you must speak, artist child
of all the colors of your soul
release, young one
to souls born whole
of your glued together
I don’t like people really means: While I understand that humans need each other and are social creatures, they have so far proven mostly not worth it to me. By which I mean; I have had my soul repeatedly ripped into shreds and shat upon by nearly every human I have ever let in, and some who I haven’t.
So don’t be surprised when I’m slow to trust.
I can’t make you love me, nor do I want to, but I am definitely worth loving. In all, every, and only the ways you can imagine.