I trust you from my room. From here we are tight. I am away from the world. from here, most of us are not the frustrated, ready-to-explode, animals that others see when they pass us on the street. Our eyes are not wild and full of compressed hatred. The streets scream. The buildings howl as they support floor upon floor of sweating human lab experiments. It is no surprise to me that hardly anyone tells the truth about how they feel. The smart ones keep themselves to themselves for good reason. Why would you want to tell anyone anything thats dear to you, even when you like them and want nothing more than to be closer than close to them. Its so painful to be next to someone you feel strongly about, and know you cant say the things you want to. I have been in that hell many times, and so have you. On that one, we are united. There is nothing like a small room and some music. If your lucky enough to have that, you know what I mean. The late night soundtracks take me away from the one way strangers on the street. It all becomes as it should. I used to like reality til they screwed it up and cheapened it. I used to defend reality until they shot so many people and crushed so many spirits that its hard to willingly be a part of it. Its not a matter of being tough enough to take what they have to dish out. I can hack it anytime around these parts, but only a fool would waste the time trying. What do you have to prove? Its hard to find anyone who is worth a second of your time, or even the slightest bit of your truth. Live out the days, thats what it turns into. Do the time, try to get the breaths to match. Alone at night where its all true, one contemplates the wound from which they came. The mother-father wound, the boyfriend-girlfriend wound, the husband-wife wound. Everyones got one. Some might think they have none, and some might think they have many, but there is only one, and it got you to where you are right now. You can go to meetings, sing songs, and read books, but self help is always about someone else. You lean on them, groove on their wound, but then you got to split. Back to your own self examination pit, because two wounds will never do. Two wounds should never be one. It hurts to be around unfamiliar pain, its like a beating from a stranger. Humanity, it pains and it wounds. It separates us from the rest of the breathing things. Every kid you see you want to warn somehow, but there is nothing to say, either they have their wound already, or its coming along soon enough. We are such horrible neurotic things, and nothing keeps us in line. Not cops, God, money, love or death. If I told you I loved you, walked one hundred miles to hear you say my name, ate ten pounds of sand, and bled from my eyes, would you take the wound away? When I envision someones bullet crashing through my skull, I wonder if there would be a second between its exit and mine, where I would feel un-wounded. I wonder what that impossible-to-reach world would be like to live in and if I could somehow squeeze a compressed and ecstatic lifetime into that fraction of a second. Without my wounds, I would be no one... nowhere... without sorrow... without a song. My paint would run dry, my blood would thicken, and my words would be ash falling back into the mouth of a dead volcano. In this silent understood relationship, I am glad you are here and hope for your well being. From this anonymous room, we dont have to dwell on the ordinary grinding tasks that keep us alive and make us dull. Here in this moment we are beautiful nocturnal creatures, and our thoughts and words are jewels guarded by the moon. I want us to be like the moon. The moon will never lie to anyone. No one hates the moon or wants to kill it. The moon doesnt take anti-depressants and never gets sent to prison. The moon never shot a guy in the face and ran away. The moon has been around for a long time and has never tried to rip anyone off. The moon does not care who you are, or who you want to touch, or what color you are. The moon treats everyone the same. When others insult and belittle in an attempt to elevate themselves, the moon sits passively and watches, never lowering itself to anything that weak. The moon is beautiful and reflects the suns light brilliantly. It needs no makeup. The moon never shoves clouds out of its way so it can be seen. The moon needs not fame nor money to be powerful. The moon never asks you to go to war to defend it. Be like the moon.
Posted on: Thu, 07 Nov 2013 15:37:04 +0000
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