The blur tiresome words that I have been unable to release from my mouth. Another weekend of unrealized expectations. There was that girl that I didn't take home.
To look into someones eyes and see nothing is sad. To feel numbness of another without even having to touch them is scary. Beauty is more then a face, it is an idea. But I went on, the wiskey flowed and my mind was quicker. I saw a vision, but it was not profound, conjured or even relative. It involved death, human-animal hybrids, Monkies that bite and rats with diseases that can steal your soul. Screaming at the wall until five in the morning, repeatedly.
Awake, do it again, but with more agitation. And then there was the flamenco dancer. She was real, I met her, she emotes. Those shoes, those sounds, the movement of control. Out stage the voice. That distant guitar emits its gasping breath. A culture preserved, in all it's authenticity, at least for now.
The images of fluidity remind me of the art of human. Everything has a meaning if you want it to. But so much of the filth, the chaos and the pain overwhelms. I try to see things otherwise, at least sometimes. My flowers, My music, and the world that swirls around me. But I can not control my fixations, emotions and thoughts. These are what make me real. I can supress them, distort them and irrationalize them, but what would I be then? A better person? You prehaps? I would choose to think not.I would not wish that on anyone, you or the worst of my enemies. The war is never one, but the heat of battle keeps me warm. An enemy combatant with a vital purpose. Reactions, Expressions, Explosions all from God Chao
To look into someones eyes and see nothing is sad. To feel numbness of another without even having to touch them is scary. Beauty is more then a face, it is an idea. But I went on, the wiskey flowed and my mind was quicker. I saw a vision, but it was not profound, conjured or even relative. It involved death, human-animal hybrids, Monkies that bite and rats with diseases that can steal your soul. Screaming at the wall until five in the morning, repeatedly.
Awake, do it again, but with more agitation. And then there was the flamenco dancer. She was real, I met her, she emotes. Those shoes, those sounds, the movement of control. Out stage the voice. That distant guitar emits its gasping breath. A culture preserved, in all it's authenticity, at least for now.
The images of fluidity remind me of the art of human. Everything has a meaning if you want it to. But so much of the filth, the chaos and the pain overwhelms. I try to see things otherwise, at least sometimes. My flowers, My music, and the world that swirls around me. But I can not control my fixations, emotions and thoughts. These are what make me real. I can supress them, distort them and irrationalize them, but what would I be then? A better person? You prehaps? I would choose to think not.I would not wish that on anyone, you or the worst of my enemies. The war is never one, but the heat of battle keeps me warm. An enemy combatant with a vital purpose. Reactions, Expressions, Explosions all from God Chao
roopie:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
roopie:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!