Pain& grievances I could not cause
for sweet adoration is all I have
Got lost (for a moment in life as short as a blink or sigh of breath).
You shake me out of it; like I was falling down the rabbit hole- of an evocative past-life
About to decompose into a little oblivion (mess) and then-
Falling asleep nose-to-nose is so much better than alone.
Can forever mean tomorrow? If so; tomorrow--will it last forever? When the solace we share shifts itself to banter & then back into deepness and a longing all and only for us occurs, I know.
"This is the shedding of our barriers. The connection between yourself, and your soul’s counterpoint in the other, will feel as much a part of you as every familiar part of your body. "
"I don’t believe that inner beauty is sufficient in this cruel world. That’s the pap one tells a child. I don’t believe that positive thinking improves your skin tone or that loving or being loved changes the shape of your nose or restores the thickness and color of hair, but I do know that there is a way of being beautiful, even as age takes its toll, that has something to do with the spirit filling with joy, something to do with the union with another human being, with the sense of having done well at something enormously important, like making happy a man who has made you happy often enough. "
As of late;
Life would seem rather bleak if I described it as systematically as possible.
Laundry list: Read for class, write for class, read for class, write for class, go to class *and intermittently drink coffee between each item*.
But in reality: it is but a dream. Not a single book on my reading list is dull. They are gravely interesting. Magnetic: I am drawn to them.
"Blue moon, you saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart."
Winter lune, draped and woven into the night sky, why do you drive us all insane? Falling out, then placed back in, thread & needle you are sewn, becoming part of what is longingly known (with much dismay).
"From our birthday, until we die, Is but a winking of the eye."
-William Butler Yeats
Than the transpiring shortness of life. A wink or a blink and things can be picture perfection or incredibly messed up. The difficult decisions left to be made in a single moment, and all these moments amount to this mass, one you may wish to transpose and alter-but ultimately it is YOURS, yours in that moment to go with it (as they say flow). And this is what some call love or life and to truly know.
Listening to these brutals (because there are these type of people who hang out at coffee-shops) talk talk talk on and on about meth addicts they've lived with, coke trips, and that sort-of half-dead but still "living" kind of life. Quoting them:
"I don't drink that much, but I can fucking drink hard liqueur."
"I'm not that good of a dad, ignore daddy."
"You drink the most out of all of us."
"You have to hear this story--", one guy.
"When he was drinking a 26 of wild(something), 24 of Morgan's Lucky."
"And she just looked at me, and I wasted."
Laughing about the hours and hours and hours they have been wasted, almost pissing themselves over times they have been pissed.
"At my wedding social, I fully pre-gamed so bad that I passed out drunk."
And they have a friend they keep referring to as "weasel". Their topics are making me nauseous, upset and sick.
I feel silly even snooping or listening in--but what is the point about this type of life--what is the point of working, having a partner, drinking all throughout the day--being so common?
I mean, on occasion it is fine to go on a bender but when your whole life bends itself to the point of no return (so far gone you can not mend) --what is the point?
Oh these horrors walk the street, oh these horrors sit across from me, oh these horrors are not my friends, they were once but not again.
Sometimes I would like forget. Erase my memory and all I have seen, all I have been. But there is no point wishing; just have to continue living. Right now it feels, as though; my brain has deteriorated and dripped out of my head down to my spine, passing tumultuously,like swallowing a rock right through my stomach and straight to my toes. Then it seeps out all ten toes through the snow; into the earth. And then it fucking freezes, latching itself onto the earth like a prey in the claws of a snowy owl on a winter's night; where there is no looking back.
Never forget the certain death; the timely death expected in the depth of yourself.