Don’t ask me about this; I don’t know. I can’t say where it came for or why. I also can’t say if it makes sense or not, as what would I know? I’m half asleep and feeling rather…philosophical. And I’m frustrated that my brain can’t seem to keep up with the whirlpool of ideas flowing around in there…. I hate it when that happens. And I guess I can mention, I’m caught between depression and simply not giving a flying fuck, and apparently this is the creation born of such evil. Parts of it definitely suck, and probably mean absolutely nothing to the reader, but what the hell, I’m going to post it anyway then go fall asleep and NOT dream about black widow spiders. And if I do, I’m getting out a fucking blowtorch. Motherfucking spiders—sure the hell showed them in that dream though. Quite the crispy critters. Anyway, on with it….
Shining, reflective,
Sheets of metallic lies
Even the camera cannot hide it all
Not that inevitable dead in my eyes
There is an edge to that darkness,
Of this no one will speak
An emotion beyond comprehension,
That only the insane would seek
Beyond that edge, that cliffside,
Many things will be shown
All those burning questions…
The seeds of understanding finally sewn
In vain the world tears at threads,
The masterpiece of creation seen in sullied fragments
All too foolish to understand,
A life spent in painted lies rather than laments
A universe beyond lies, beyond feeling beyond sense,
Nature nurtures this eternal unrest
The way of things, the only true bias
In all of this suffering is balance, not test
It is in this thing that there is truth,
The one piece cast aside
The gold amongst the rotten trash,
It is not in “good” as they all lied
There is an end to darkness,
A place beyond this insanity
The rogue, the heretic,
The final Fall of the calamity
Crashing down to earth,
For once things become clear
I was never what I seemed;
I am not this person in the mirror
In case anyone actually reads this post, it’s basically about “darkness”, be it depression, evil, whatever, and how it causes one to come to certain…understandings about the world around them. People don’t like it, shun it even, because they are afraid of truth—it shatters ideals and reveals the world to be ugly rather than beautiful. I guess this is my sad attempt at trying to say that I’m doing my best to accept that ugliness and even learn and grow because of it. Ugly has always been beautiful to me after all; it is only in this brokenness that I can even exist at all. Bitterness keeps me alive, I know that now. It was never hope.
It’s a struggle to hold onto to anything at all when every turn has you and your ideals proven so wrong, it’s a distrust I guess is what I mean. You can’t trust anything, but no matter what, you know there’s an end to wondering and an end to waiting for something better to show up. Well, I don’t make sense, but it’s what I took away from what you wrote. For some reason I don’t think things just ‘get better’, the darkness comes to an end when it’s good and ready, or when you finally take matters into your own hands, but waiting for things to just get better suggests helplessness to me, and in my eyes that kind of waiting and half-hearted hope only prolongs the pain you know? If not making it all worse. I’ve probably lost you through this but anyway…lol. It’s great to see some of your writing again.