i walk a razor thin line every moment, dreaming and living between mindless, killing despair and cautious, blind optimism. i feel every moment like a shank to the kidneys. i feel time slipping past with no way of holding the now like dust in my palm. i can feel my youth draining away into the chasm that is the enormity of the world and its infinite possibilities of desolation and happiness.
one of my selves swings betwixt despair and optimism. another slips with alarming ease in and out of bloodblack rage, careless violence...only to awake into a moment of such intense compassion and tenderness that i feel my knees near collaspe with emotion and wayward, unfocused love.
sometimes i see myself floating above a world burning to ashes amid inhuman screams, like a painting of Dante's Inferno-----only to then sign up to be a kitten foster parent or take time from work to tutor kids in reading at the local ghetto elementry school because the teachers are overwhelmed and underpaid.
i bang iron around in the gym to vent the rage. i pain myself to forced relaxation in yoga class to forget my internal tears at the myriad hurts in the world around me. i read incessantly to take my empty love and put it somewhere fantastical. i run the neighborhood streets with sweat pouring from the wounds inflicted on myself, trying to notice the beauty around me and the content lives and loves in those houses in hopes one day i will be the one sitting in that lighted window amidst the love of my life and our little corner of the universe, where we cultivate answers to lonliness.
constantly, inevitably, i contradict my several selves---i live, long, laugh, love, lust, languish, lament, labor, strain, strive, struggle---- i die every moment and puke myself back into loved existance.
my internal knife edge existence is killing me one day at a time...and i wouldn't have it any other way.
hug me hate me kiss me love me cut me fuck me shake me miss me kill me. its all the same. its life.
-pb
music: the cure, bloodflowers
book: campfire ghost stories, various
one of my selves swings betwixt despair and optimism. another slips with alarming ease in and out of bloodblack rage, careless violence...only to awake into a moment of such intense compassion and tenderness that i feel my knees near collaspe with emotion and wayward, unfocused love.
sometimes i see myself floating above a world burning to ashes amid inhuman screams, like a painting of Dante's Inferno-----only to then sign up to be a kitten foster parent or take time from work to tutor kids in reading at the local ghetto elementry school because the teachers are overwhelmed and underpaid.
i bang iron around in the gym to vent the rage. i pain myself to forced relaxation in yoga class to forget my internal tears at the myriad hurts in the world around me. i read incessantly to take my empty love and put it somewhere fantastical. i run the neighborhood streets with sweat pouring from the wounds inflicted on myself, trying to notice the beauty around me and the content lives and loves in those houses in hopes one day i will be the one sitting in that lighted window amidst the love of my life and our little corner of the universe, where we cultivate answers to lonliness.
constantly, inevitably, i contradict my several selves---i live, long, laugh, love, lust, languish, lament, labor, strain, strive, struggle---- i die every moment and puke myself back into loved existance.
my internal knife edge existence is killing me one day at a time...and i wouldn't have it any other way.
hug me hate me kiss me love me cut me fuck me shake me miss me kill me. its all the same. its life.
-pb
music: the cure, bloodflowers
book: campfire ghost stories, various
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
the camping sounded fun. I wish more sgva/dc people were interested because I just quit my job and it sounds like so much fun.