The Life Stigma

THE LIFE STIGMA:
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when the world turns around.. it makes you wonder if we only
remember our own names because we have had them being forced
in our faces in the way of yelling or in the way of love filled
words.

Maybe a mixture of the two.. but In my case I think it would be the
first. Perhaps it is my fault, perhaps i'm just daunted by the stigma
of this society.. but all in all its just a facet.. not even a reality
its just a dream that is never going to happen.

A dream... something we aren't alowed to have. Held Highly in our collective
thought but not even considered to be a way of living..
At birth the child is innocent... unknowing of the pain that awaits their
poor souls, and the fear that engulfs the mind when the mind sparks to
individual thought.

The realization that you were not brought into the world to be taken care
of but to survive and struggle then maybe take care of someone else
be it lover or new child.
This cycle seems redundant and lacking of purpose but we all go on
and seem to revel in this.. creating our problems or giving up on it all.

What is your deepest fear?
dying alone?
buried alive?
being poor, perhaps even homeless?
having not a friend to run to?
loving in vain?

All so viable in this enigmatic revolving door...
In one side, out the next.

Our life sequence is nothing more than the sign of our struggle.
Love.... love has many levels. this is what makes it hard to understand but
I understand... I have seen it come and go, come and go.

So many worries.. for a life that has such little meaning... there is some, don't get me wrong.
but for the most part, and for some life is just an upwards latter to "sucess".. a war for material goods
that will not be there in the end.

others tho... spend their lives in search of their own soul and others that share one similar... stuck in the fly trap
or flying free in their own temporary heaven.. it can go back and forth.
Once again... all in cycles.. a circle is our program. empty trash. pick up aquaintances.

Confusion ensues when one thinks back at what was ugly, and that which was beautiful.. do
we know the difference?
The mountains are beautiful.. no they are hell on the feet and oh the pain of the pressure pushing
non-stop on the eardrum untill that sudden and painful pop.

This numbing of the senses other than when we decide to feel the need to do so.. the mask that is involved in meeting people.
putting our best prosthetic foot forward. I'm wondering if the mask is created by ourselves in all natural circumstance,
or are they the reminance of past pain molded into a character that one feels the world might love?

OK this thus far has been quite depressing...I'm not saying there aren't good things in this world, there are...
but taken in the wrong order or steps these things can be hazardous... to ones health even, I'm quite sure

Dispite downs un-imaginable... love has its ups as well... but that... is only the beginning.
I Didn't work hard enough for it.
My heart is a broken monologue, never intened for mass production.
I'm Blue inside. Living on kool-aid, the occassional cigarette and scraps thrown down to me, Im officially a shell of a man.
Pull your pants up.. roll over. It never happened.

Friends are foes... and vise versa... You don't want to take your eye off of either of them.

THe female of the spiecies is more deadly than the male...
women are smarter, women are smarter.
the reson to my infliction that females are more dominant seeking is this.. in nature
female creatures are always attacking or killing the male after breeding.. and if they dont breed its worse..
they must show their nurturing dominance, must inflict some sort of pain... either egotistical or maternal
this is the cycle of life. this is living.
all they know is to destoy male dominance.. in human culture this does not exist without conciquense therefore it is not nessisary
in law but in instict.

clean the pool.. cleanse the bathroom. see your friends when i'm ready.. im in control.. "who's in control?"

my indecisive action that is no action at all is looked down upon like a father, I don't know what
I'm doing I know exactly that.. what am I doing?????

Talking is just that.. talking...

One can learn more in lisening than in talking.. listening is the key to dealing with all that is valuable.
you aren't helping your fatigue.... you are feeding it with fear...

nothing can help those who do not help themselves.
working with loathing dreams.. living in them.... feeling them.... hoping for them.. to feel.
it will be fine.. give to me. the work of the night is done.. the miracle is blank..
surpass death.. and live in the now... "the now" loves you and you are blind.

who sees shadows.........?

haphazard attitudes are that which i adore,
but when turned to face me... they are all that I abhore.

Love and childhood can be so decieving, but birth can be relieving
I had a son today... and I saw myelf in him
a child with pain, with misery

i was his father and always will be.
I hope I am the only that he sees  because I love him.

THE CYCLE:
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The Cycle spins as we count on our hand the meaning of reluctance.
Waiting to see where we end up... what is our Number, where is our Home?
Will we be stuck in this feedback loop..? this un-ending reticulum or is the shift around
the curved corner waiting to pounce on us as we feel our worst..

In un-ending attempts to keep ones dignity and sanity we hopelessly try to tear ourselves
from the spinning wheel we have grown so fond of, tasteing only what is given and not trusting that
which is found.

Drugs supercede ignorance for they dissolve barriers and walls... curruptive
inputs are locked down and destroyed with a blast of glory and a moment  all your own.

You are the cycle.. you have become the boredom.. forget your rationality and dont forget intake.
Input what is not forgotten and lose that tired trash of reminissence for it never got you anywhere.

May I hope to dream of the dreams i live, for they are one and the same and they are me.. in a drizzle
of non-liniar lines and warps we twist ourselves beyond the point of god. 3......2......1......

DOSE TIME: 11:11 - 11:12

when the sound gates open to our un-heeding cries and the crowd sings of glory, we fire our emotions
a furry of sparks and impulses into the very genetic structure of our world.. we ARE earth.
We are a part of its breathing structure... its very cells.. its movement. a bouncing raquet ball in a cube.

EGO is the birth of jealousy and deciete.. watch it closely and may its age never show.
I havent opened my present yet dont re-incarnate it.
I left some tea on the table for you so you can intoxicate your temple of lethargy.
*sigh*
Im Blown into Your Image. The gust is a Guilty Pleasure.

101012202203303304404405505506606607707708808809909910101010111111111212121213
(half a days cycle in one strand)

Daydreaming is mearly a luxury afforded by only the poor, the young, and the old.
The only difference between the elderly and a child is that the young look to the future whilst the old remember the past.

a quiet moment, only an adventure when fighting to save oneself from themselves or daydreaming... the gold of youth.

and losing to eternity and all of us begin again, from the ending point of a conjoined reality.