Good For Your Soul
The Knife: cutting without thought or mind. no heart: in shit. Coming home and washing the walls with his day of excrement, voting not to look at me, yet willing to call me on my shit 2 seconds in the door, he flames and grouls internally feeding the discomfort he feels for himself the pain of living a life, his life in disatisfactory presence. no mind, no heart and pain the unabashed fuming of a day drivin' into the dirt to lie six feet under. The tombstone reading, " I am the Martyr of my life, for you." RIP the tomb of Marcus Aurelius, mythically turning yourself inside not out and running circles in place, tearing up the world around you so you can hide in your trenches, alone desperate, and anguish you aren't nearly ready to leave behind, its shadow is far too cool and comfortable for you to transform to become the angular robot of comformity that is portrayed so indecently, so effectively, "Fuck off" he says to me. "Fuck you" he mouths with his eyes down the hall. "You aren't worth the best of me."
***
Flowers in bloom, the sunlit room she's bathing within fills with yellow petals of detailed gerber daisies. She sinks into the water of fragrant suds and dissolves the surrounding reality deconstructing to constuct the pain. The feeding frenzy upon her heart the kid screaming for help, boxes upon boxes of cover, each wall building a callous on her heart. Closing down the windows and dimming the sunshine. Shadows lifting off the walls and strangling her happiness, laughter choking into tears and the soapy embrace a pool of her own filth. Slipping, slipping into her very own lonesome prison of which she is the architect, she: the prisoner and warden. I'm kept at bay the towers ominously watching, rifles poised, electrical defenses up. The kid's hands bloody and bruised from reaching out, struck and stung and abused. "I WANT OUT!!" She screams inside and weeps for the impending doom that is to follow her. We hold a candle for her to see.. if she doesn't claw her eyes out first.
***
SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY
Where do we begin? Like the ending is the only thing that is clear. Holding on to the discriminating hatreds that divide the world and bleed us our lives. Perpetuate the hunger for something better and forget that this world is apart of us and we apart of it, too. BELIEVE WE ARE DOOMED and always remember that it's VITAL, as in: necessary for life. The ego-centric dependancy rules out any peace we have, together. The need to belong is so short sighted. Isn't it enough that we all walk upright, grasp our mocha latées in hand and make the choice to perform if we so desire?
I like freewrites because it's like the ultimate mind dump written by hand. Just letting everything and anything come out onto the page as is. This is slightly edited so as not to point fingers, these are just thoughts and feelings that I was experiencing at one moment in time. MIND DUMP.. love it.