When the thunder rolls, it’s depth is unpredictable and cascading – echoing on into directions that are both far too wide or deep for me to comprehend.
I wonder, in those moments, what keeps me stuck in this roll. For how deep or cascading, in which direction, cheering on the strikes of light, flickering through the darkness. There have been moments of clarity. Followed by a rumble of continuation.
There must be more.
When I think that I must begin on the right path, I become overwhelmingly exhausted.
But physically impossible to un-adhere to.
I find myself waking up in the middle of places of reality, and knowing that I have been lost in a land far away. Lost in sleepwalking through life. Lost in wondering what is meant to be. Lost in if I am alive, or if I am just roaming because I miss everyone so much.
To what must make this real for me?
I am not a poet, although a lot of times I speak to myself as if I am. I look at simplicity and I see chaos. I look at enigmas and see freedom. I love nothing that makes sense. And this is where I stand.
Madness – Fear – Loathing
I reach out, I write, I keep on, I keep on, I keep on. I complete the day and start the next, and I don’t intend on not doing that.
But there are times, you know.
It just seems that I see there are many living for more – and I sabotage my body so I can’t.
I make it impossible.
I stomp my desires in the dirt.
For what, for why, and how, and when, so what the fuck and how can it be undone?
There goes too many thoughts and brutalities of self-hatred to even write it fluidly into one sentence.
I will pray to God tonight. To the Universe. To my past ancestors. And to myself.
There has to be another way.