I let my nails grow.
I paint them with the pixie dust that fall from the fairies in my backyard.
I want to speak, but I learned a few things.
If I’m silent like a mouse, my hearing becomes sharper
And I’ll learn better than the mouth who hunts
all at once.
I let my grays grow.
I allow them their passage within my black strands like ornamental streamers
For they retell the wisdom that teaches how darkness beds with the light.
Do you like absence?
It’s where we find ourselves, stark and naked
built like the sacred nature of trees.
The world is beautiful,
but they didn’t tell you this because they wanted to ruin it for you too.
The black magic of which we fight against.
A mashed-up world of thoughts and identities hide in the crisis
Of the bloodstream from all the things you were told, you believed you were not.
How can I tell you the world is beautiful?
We learn to appreciate it late. The wind, water, the rocks,
And the soil are boundless in a way where we can’t measure on earth
’til we leave this place. But, until then, let’s love the world today.
The days speed.
I drop into time and I can feel the immediacy of eternity.
How many times have I been on the same ride? How many times have I been on this highway and saw the same lights? It’s like the world has a record on queue and things don’t shine the way they used to. I asked the sun to come out mother, but she’s gone, like you. Her rays aren’t the same. The only thing she sends out these days is a haze that makes everyone in the world sick and drained.
Everyone I know is deficient of Vitamin D yet everyone talks about the myth of protein shortage. I used to wonder about the setting, about what’s important. But now I don’t because everything’s distorted. What was an apple then becoming an orange the day after? What is it that really matters? And what are they spraying in our skies? Who are the ones that take care of the bad guys when it’s only the bad guys who wins the prize?
No one’s protected on Mother Earth, mother. And this isn’t to confuse my faith in God, but those who govern. I interrogate our air, wind, water and gravity. What’s the strategy? There’s an invisible war. Do I know which side to fight for? There’s a toll bearing down on our fortunate souls. I know people are cold with their corpulent goals. Can you feel the stain of karma? Can you feel the wane of your timer?
Time’s revealing everything from the assembly line to the enigmatical rind.
How does the night begin without a day? How am I triggered by a sudden charge of energy hysteria that lashes outwards to emotional outbursts? How do I allow myself to relax and let go of the tension headache that disguises itself from holding back the cries?
So there was a story earlier of someone who worked with someone who knew this person. But it didn’t start there and nor does it end here. There was a mother who bore two sons. One came out normal and the other had (what doctors or society identifies as) mental problems. The kid with the mental issues would have trigger attacks and he would break things inside the house claiming he saw evil spirits. Eventually the mother decided to put him in a mental institution when he was 17. He stood there until he was 21.
The doctors told his mother that he’s been progressing and he’s now stabilized. She spoke to her ordinary son about taking him out the institution. He didn’t welcome the idea and said they should wait a while longer. Her mental son came out and it was only a week and things seemed to be better. Than something triggered him and he saw his mother as an evil spirit and bludgeon her to death with a stick. The other son came home to find his mother dead and his brother watching television as if nothing happen because he went back to his normal.
And than I rambled on to someone tonight and it went like this without edit, without grammar, without thought, just here in its full written evidence:
And stories like that make me wonder, stories that repeat itself, nothing is new under the sun, everything repeating, everything seems like an eternity..
And its all decisions, and all choices and what for?
Is there more?
Even if we make all the right choices, during the time they may have seemed right, but later with consequence you find out they weren’t.
And this bothers me. So much bothers me.
Living bothers me. Thinking bothers me.
It’s what I think about that bothers me, not so much the external. But the internal, like these thoughts.
And that dream I had a week or two ago, about life repeating and it’s all about eternity. And how much I panicked and hated it even when I woke up.