Every crack is an eye.
You are flowers;
a garden.
You are never forgotten.
I don’t have a number 1 or 2, and maybe that scares you.
I am scared too.
I do what I do because I love it. Not because you do.
On the death bed, tell me a happy story.
Look me in the eyes, hold my hands, tell me the happiest story. Pretend you believe it until my eyes close.
Water is my most accessible form of air.
Don’t fuck with my freedom. Or anyone’s.
To live without boundaries is to self harm.
The truth about beauty, and the beauty about truth, is that they are one.
I hear about the loss of loved ones without choice.
I recall the loved ones who chose to leave.
Their choice has stayed after they’ve gone.
I seek seclusion.
Every distraction eliminated is a revelation illuminated.
There lies a rare kind of subservience within all great warriors; the subservience to courage.
They were troubled by my physical pace, and I by their mental.
I feel broken.
I feel irreparable.
But what I feel will not define me.
When you argue for the sake of winning, you lose the opportunity to grow.
Expansion is the true form of triumph.
Distraction, the true form of loss.
My arms ache from gathering words.
I mean literally, my arms ache after gathering words.
Do not bust your ass for those who just want to bust your ass.
Parts of us die as we continue to live.
My confidence comes from my ability to confide in my self.
My only constant identity is my openness to change.
Choking on red.
my time.
the bond.
Combed through my bones
ruthless uses.
my fold.
Urges surge through us all, choose not to fall.
Circling the lies within your eyes.
I struggle with action overbearing intention.
I struggle with comprehension.
I long to be that which is not me,
for a moment to understand the degree
to which I should or should not feel
that which harms the ones I wish to please.
Control, or balance, or retention?
”All she wants is attention.”
Never was it mentioned
It was love that split her knees.
Re- skew your self.
The extent to which I can lack intent is ever growing.
The extent to which I can truly be bare is ever expanding.
What is nudity?
The lack of all that is shaped, or formed extrinsically.
A, perhaps, unattainable state within this form.
The direction in which I am;
a nothingness manifested.
Shall we hold ourselves accountable for the choices we did not make?
All thought could first be an attempt at objective recreation of an idea of thought.
Then, that seemingly objective starting point of the recreated idea is developed into thought that is subject to the conditioning of the individual host of thought.
The act of envisioning is slightly different than the act of imagining.
Imagination is creation.
Envisionment is recreation.
I long to love, with the intensity in which I hate.
A constant distance, parallel lines.
We never met.
There is no such thing as a taboo topic.
Share your life with an empowered human who chooses you every moment, not with a human who does not have the power to leave you.
One of them is with you by choice.
The other out of need.
Dependent love is limiting,
Independent love is infinite.
My ability to love shall not be impacted by your inability to love.
“Trust”, what a concept!
I shall not ask for approval.
If, in one’s brain, the value of something(including other people) is proportional to its usefulness, then the object/subject is being objectified by that brain.
It is being reduced to its extrinsic existence. The part of it that can be observed by others, not the part of it, it in itself knows.
It is reduced to a preposition in the brain, that it is lacking of inherent existence, lacking of existence beyond what is made of its usefulness by the brain. Lacking that which makes it, it. The rules it inherently follows. For example, its current shape, its temperature, its limits/ boundaries, etc.
It is robbed of its sub- existence.
It is robbed of its substance.
This thought was interrupted by minor self harm.
I caught myself as it was happening and brought myself back to this keyboard.
Thank you, computer.
If we continue to think in this way, we recognize that objects can actually appear to be far more rigid in their ways and loyal to their knowledge/ physics, than we are. Perhaps they are inherently far more conscious than we are too.
When you feel like complimenting me, challenge me, please.
The finite can exist within the infinite. The infinite cannot be contained within the finite. The finite is in contact with the infinite. The infinite infinitely recreates the finite. It is important to observe then, that defining the infinite, is finite, not infinite.
We are but a conversation god is having with themselves about why not to make us.
I belong
the rubble.
Shower in self-assessment
Feel no resentment
Wipe the drops of vain
Pour your wounds in rain
Forgive disdain
Or remain
Part of the stain.
We compensate both the ones we love, and the ones we hate.
A constant push and pull
Withering the form
Blending it into one.
Of an end that shall not come.
Did you follow the herd of sheep?
Did you find out where they sleep?
Is it now your secret to keep?
Parts of me went separate ways.
The lies that demise our plan to survive this, are they worth it?
Is it worth it?
Is our ego worth losing the freedom we gained through loosening the chains of ignorance?
Worth the pain of moving back to a time when we were divided,
Provided we decided to feed on greed?
And we bleed.
Read the waves our hearts utter
Take in the rays our eyes flutter
Burry the ways of our grandmothers,
Recognize that before we breed
We must cherish one another.
Despite the labels of our temporary inclinations
That separate our nations,
Despite the bias our mind staples,
That wrecks imagination,
Despite the darkness that deceives our brightness to believe its likeness is disabled.
Summon the energy that remains inflamed
Aimed to nourish our true sensation:
Living in truth, and resisting temptation.
Ever looked at the ground and wished you were it?
Left drained.
Smaller and smaller.
A dot.
Smaller and smaller.
A hole.
Negative space.
My place.
Nowadays, banning people online is as effective, if not more effective, than banning their physical existence.
What is breathing aside from inhalation?
A separation; space creation.
A door that opens for restoration.
A force that saves from suffocation.
Heat generation and preservation.
A transmission of particles, a constellation.
And possibly, self-manifestation.
Why do we wait until we are dying to come alive?
On the death bed, tell me a happy story.
Look into my eyes. Hold my hands.
Tell me the happiest story.
Act like you believe it until my eyes close.
My mind shall be my strongest eye. The one that does not go blind.
I hate my core. So how do I love my self?
We may educate. Not eradicate.
Re-evaluate all that is.
Neuroplasticity is underrated.
If no one votes, does that not count as a vote to opt out of the system?
Growth without space is like freedom in a cage.
Treat the spirit. Not the eyes.
What if lines were not meant to separate? What if they were meant to connect, and communicate?
The whole time, I should have been loyal to my self.
If you’re ever going to pick your own well- being over that of your child, do it before they are born.
Being with an empath cuts the pain in half.
Now imagine being in a world of empaths,
That all our pains are halved and halved
and halved, and halved.
I exist in the belly of water.
From within one darkness, comes all that is.
Thoughts, feelings, words, imagery.
Distorted reasoning on why you seek to leave.
Separate from them, and you’ve already gone.
Gone away.
Allowing abuse does not null the culpability of the abuser.
Each back story is earned.
When the cognitive distance is a choice, communication is a waste of voice.
Face to face. Are we eye to eye?
We are but constellations in the night sky.
Our freedom is equivalent to our neuroplasticity.
I long to unsee.
Sex education is health education.
Play is a necessity.
Adulthood does not negate the need for it.
If you do not embrace pleasure, you forget what it is like.
You could become uncomfortable with feeling it, awkward receiving it.
Resistance may develop. An insurmountable amount.
I shall shift to serve my outer form no more.
My form shall begin to serve me.
This is the meaning of consent.
I hate my core. So how do I love my self?
Let’s explore our differences instead of talking about something we all agree on.
If the definitions we form are not as detailed and infinite as the world, how can they not limit our perception of our experience of the world?
Choosing a “slightly” distorted world is significantly deceiving.
Can we communicate without words?
I believe it would be more accurate.
Once you’ve gone behind my back you’re staying there.
Looking into The Abstract Mirror
where my true reflection is spelled.
And I see clearer
What may have been withheld
An undying nature
A love unfelt.
I am tired of being tired of being myself.
The validity of the method or reason for which one validates or invalidates experiences or behaviours is more important than the act of validating or invalidating them.
An invalid method or premise cannot distinguish a valid conclusion from an invalid one.
To be for the purpose of validation or invalidation compromises the presence of one’s self and that of others’.
I do not wish to be subjected to validation or invalidation by my self and others. I do not seek to be robbed of my most authentic self as a result of flawed reception or perception caused by the distraction of seeking to validate or invalidate.
I consent to exploration.
To validate or invalidate, is an act of self harm, and suffering.
The act of coming in contact on its own, is liberation. Knowledge acquisition generates a choice, from a no choice situation.
The quickness in which you fall for someone could cost you them.
In order for an event to qualify to be labeled “an experience”, it must be consensual in the least.
Non consensual “experiences” are not experiences.
They are “abuse”. Assault. Victimhood.
They are not, experienced.
They are forced.