I don't want to feel this way forever
A dead letter marked return to sender...
i am oddly dead, and yet so alive at the same time; empty, yet overfull; tired, but wide-awake. each of these things starting off as a lie that then gets made truth by the mere act of my brain forming the cognitive thought; a sentence of words strung on string like small glass beads: singly, ugly; but together, a beautiful thing to stir emotions better left bottled inside for rainy days. i am a god and a devil in the very same breath; evil, yet loving; coldly passionate. i search for meaning hidden amongst the very blades of grass, the glint of sun in a child's eye. there is so much meaning in this meaningless nothingness that i could not even find it within myself at the lowest of low to deny the existance of greater powers than myself and die kicking and screaming, but rather, reach to those powers to lift me from my moment. i see through the corporeal to the very spirits of beings, sedated by technology and lack of love to such a point as to care only for themselves, and find little peace in the joy of others. bitterness abounds. i seek out the others like myself who, although angry at times, and inclined to rail against things around them, still catch the beauty in the tiny dusty flower that batters its head through the crack in the pavement to feel the warmth of the sun across its dewy petals. i raise my face to the sun as it tears apart the clouds that shroud it and smile wide as it tickles my face, touches me momentarily like a lover being pulled away by harsh arms. i will not go quietly into the night, but likewise, i will not fight my fate. immortality is a pain greater than death. happiness lay in leaving something behind that others may cherish and hold dear; something that will numb the pain of my imperfections and leave only a pleasant aftertaste of the moments of laughter and sun and joy and hyperreal senses: glints of sun on the clearblue waves of a mountain lake. looming ever around me the reminders of how great we think we are and in the same breath how fragile we must secretly deep within ourselves admit to being. in these moments i am happy simply with the laugh of a child, the touch of the sun, a letter from the front in the form of ugly beads strung to create a gorgeous kaleidoscope with colored bits of love, a line from a song, sung with real feeling, that brings up the god from within me to kill the devil that bears my name and in that brief moment in the shadow and sun simultaneously i am one with myself and with all around me that breathes life and i open like a door to the universe and swallow it whole and carry myself around in a basket made from the warmth of your skin across mine.
in the train running parallel to this track, my kids have scattered games all over the floor, the sun is shining beautifully, my kids are running around naked, i am mostly happy, no. 2 makes massive steps forward in the potty-training department, no. 1 has shown great progress in the listening and complying with direction department, and it is a mere 40 days until the time that chunks of me that have been displaced find their way back to my side.
darth sardonic
i am oddly dead, and yet so alive at the same time; empty, yet overfull; tired, but wide-awake. each of these things starting off as a lie that then gets made truth by the mere act of my brain forming the cognitive thought; a sentence of words strung on string like small glass beads: singly, ugly; but together, a beautiful thing to stir emotions better left bottled inside for rainy days. i am a god and a devil in the very same breath; evil, yet loving; coldly passionate. i search for meaning hidden amongst the very blades of grass, the glint of sun in a child's eye. there is so much meaning in this meaningless nothingness that i could not even find it within myself at the lowest of low to deny the existance of greater powers than myself and die kicking and screaming, but rather, reach to those powers to lift me from my moment. i see through the corporeal to the very spirits of beings, sedated by technology and lack of love to such a point as to care only for themselves, and find little peace in the joy of others. bitterness abounds. i seek out the others like myself who, although angry at times, and inclined to rail against things around them, still catch the beauty in the tiny dusty flower that batters its head through the crack in the pavement to feel the warmth of the sun across its dewy petals. i raise my face to the sun as it tears apart the clouds that shroud it and smile wide as it tickles my face, touches me momentarily like a lover being pulled away by harsh arms. i will not go quietly into the night, but likewise, i will not fight my fate. immortality is a pain greater than death. happiness lay in leaving something behind that others may cherish and hold dear; something that will numb the pain of my imperfections and leave only a pleasant aftertaste of the moments of laughter and sun and joy and hyperreal senses: glints of sun on the clearblue waves of a mountain lake. looming ever around me the reminders of how great we think we are and in the same breath how fragile we must secretly deep within ourselves admit to being. in these moments i am happy simply with the laugh of a child, the touch of the sun, a letter from the front in the form of ugly beads strung to create a gorgeous kaleidoscope with colored bits of love, a line from a song, sung with real feeling, that brings up the god from within me to kill the devil that bears my name and in that brief moment in the shadow and sun simultaneously i am one with myself and with all around me that breathes life and i open like a door to the universe and swallow it whole and carry myself around in a basket made from the warmth of your skin across mine.
in the train running parallel to this track, my kids have scattered games all over the floor, the sun is shining beautifully, my kids are running around naked, i am mostly happy, no. 2 makes massive steps forward in the potty-training department, no. 1 has shown great progress in the listening and complying with direction department, and it is a mere 40 days until the time that chunks of me that have been displaced find their way back to my side.
darth sardonic
Labels: moodiness makes me who i am, religion and philosophy, thursday
3 Comments:
Darth that is both difficult to read and a joy. You expressed the dichotomy well. The juxtaposition of life/death. Good words.
40 days... we'l all start counting with you!
pxx
Only 37 now. YAY!!!!!
you ARE a poet. We are all counting the days with you. I am looking forward to those posts AFTER you get back to blogging AFTER THE DAY! Whoo hoo!
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