Every morning I awake and am immediately upset. Discouraged by the fact that I didn’t just slip away in my sleep or manage to permanently stay in dream land. It isn’t that my dreams are always happy and carefree—they aren’t. I have dreams in which I am attacked, dreams that start with me in a jail cell, sometimes I am naked in the Arctic, sometimes I am being chased, the scenarios go on and on. There is a difference in my dreams though. In my dreams I may see someone chasing after me and think, “well, I really should try to get away from this person,” and my own running will then commence. What I didn’t feel was that intense fear of what this person was going to do to me and what that would mean for me and my life carrying on. In a dream I am able to just live. In reality I have to focus on living in society. And that ‘in society’ part is the part that kills me, that wants me to stay in dream land. Maybe I just want to live on my animal instincts and run whenever it seems appropriate, eat whenever I’m hungry even if doing so means that I have to go out and slaughter an animal myself for nourishment or simply pick my own orange off of a tree, and sleep whenever I am tired despite the fact that it means I might be sleeping during some important meeting because there would be no important meeting. I know why society has been created: each step towards “progress” that has been made has been made in an effort of trying to create more ease in living. I mean slaughtering a bull yourself every time you want some steak isn’t the easiest of things to do. And has anyone ever picked their own bananas? The scariest, deadliest spiders use the center of the bushels for their homes AND bananas grow at the tops of very tall trees so getting up there is a challenge in itself. Thus, I can see the problems that having a society has worked to absolve, but I am not convinced that the benefits outweigh the detriments. I guess for now I am just going to stay in bed, aspiring to keep dreaming. Aspiring to live outside of the societal open and closed doors. But I can’t actually do that, because society is here. So instead I am going to wish that I could stay in bed, could keep dreaming, just to be stuck living in society. There is no escaping society.
It’s a struggle to live when one’s only true desire is to die.
Tick tock, Tick tock
I can only stare at the clock.
With nothing to do,
but tie my shoe.
There is still nowhere to go,
so I wait while analyzing my toe.
A head full of wonder,
so much so I blunder.
Is there really something out there for me,
do I have a destiny?
I am not a productive member,
so useless people will not remember.
what, these days, is life,
but an endless sife.
Is there anymore meaning,
or is there just room for fiending?
I dont want to think,
I simply want to blink,
and have nothing stand behind,
the blinking eye that looks so kind.
Because now I’m a wreck,
so anxious soon will be heard the snap of my neck.
For now the pressure is too much,
I need something to clutch.
Or maybe to find my niche,
to dig myself out of this ditch.
I made mistakes and that I know,
Many people do and then they grow.
But my mishaps seem to have gotten the best of me,
in this world where living comes with a fee.
I have nothing to offer but the words in my heart,
and others things that fall under the category of art.
How I will survive I do not know,
Its time to shrug and recall it worked for people like Poe.
But who am I but another in a sea of dreams,
while everything is falling apart at the seams.
This is not a time to aspire,
as much as a time to think of how I can later retire.
The jitters make me want to cry,
as I babble on and suck the world dry.
Tick tock, Tick tock,
I can only stare at the clock.
Creativity cannot stay captive inside the body,
Art is an interesting thing.
It tears at you and pulls at you until you finally let it free.
And then what?
You spent your whole life thinking of that one brilliant thing,
that one thing that you knew was amazing,
and others, they knew that it was amazing too.
But in the end you have no money,
You have no fame,
You have nothing.
So you are left to shrivel with your creative spirit,
until depression gets the best of you and you are gone.
For what is life if you cannot do what you love,
and what is life without money.
Its all about who you know,
but when you’re an average person like me,
you know nobody and you are left to suffer.
To live a life where you feel captive,
unable to express the beauty inside your mind.
To help the world; to save everyone.
Because no one knows who you are,
and those that know don’t listen.
So you are stuck writing stupid little tidbits on a blog that no one reads.
that one day someone will discover you,
so that you can bloom.
But until then,
until that day that will likely never come,
you sit alone,
depressed with a knife in hand,
wondering if today is the day you are finally going to off yourself.
let the world be filled with people that will offer more than just beauty,
for people that will offer substance.
Creative people have so much to give,
but nothing of actual value.
We are useless.
This girl was stuck,
She seemed to be shit out of luck.
She had plenty to consider a friend,
Mary, Molly, and even Lucy in the end.
They all had fun together but it wasn’t enough,
So Roxy came and tried to help her with stuff.
It didn’t work and she was still shit out of luck,
So she thought maybe she needed a good fuck.
But a fuck cannot compare to the friends she had,
so in the end she just stayed feeling bad.
There is a funny thing when it comes to satisfaction,
No one believes it can be their action.
But when you look back and see whats been done,
You realize a lot of fun has been won.
Won as in achieved and left to be,
When all you truly have is the person you call me.
Because who are we to anyone but strangers,
Hoping those other people can be hangers,
People to hang your problems on,
Hang the things you would rather not pawn.
People to keep you being you,
because in the end there is only one in your crew.
There is no one you can trust enough,
In this world that is just so tough.
There once was a girl named Kilamoods,
She could hang longer than any of the dudes.
She would pop her pills,
show her skills,
and still be able to know her true.
but she didnt only know a few,
she knew her and all the rest of the crew,
because nothing went past Kilamoods,
information to her was like eatings foods.
she would smoke her mary,
pop the dust of the fairy.
burn the devil crop,
drink what should be absorbed by a mop.
let anything enter her mouth that will make her feel good,
even though nothing really could.
then one day she died a silent death
saying only one thing with her last breath.
“I wish I found what I wanted in this little life of mine,
Instead of wasting it searching through all the time I could have been fine.”
We live amongst an ignorant and arrogant species that believes it is the best on the wide scale. The species dwells in a system labeled society, modeled after the colonizing designs of Ancient Greek minds from Athens. The vision of thinkers like Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, and Diogenes. We don’t live freely, frolicking in meadows, valleys, or any other part of nature our animal instinct attracts us to. Instead we view our inhibition as an entity, separating us from the rest of the animal kingdom. Now, I don’t know how true the separation is, all living things have personality alike, interspecies communication simply has a difficulty factor exceeding human ability at this time. Where a person frowns, a flower wilts, a dog whimpers, a piece of grass dies, but a monkey—a monkey frowns like a person just the same. People that have not ruined the sensitive ecosystem we live in for personal gain. So, forgetting about the separation, inhibition as an entity I can agree with: the soul. The soul does not die until it is ready. The body—that dies, but think of that as a mere vessel, one among many available, used to allow the soul’s expression. There are beautiful souls out there, but with beauty comes ugly because it is impossible to know one without the other. What do these beautiful souls do in the face of those that are vile within the system we have created? How does a good vessel react to an evil vessel? In what way does the soul manifest in humans? It is happening right now within each of us, we cannot fully communicate with the souls that temporarily found a different type of living vessel, so we must work to understand this one. Beauty and good are constructive; ugly and evil are deconstructive. Who are these productive members of society?