When I tell of an event, pictures, flashes of them randomly come and go in my head, like an abstract paradoxical painting. They're typically uniform in structure but chaotic in order. This is my imagination? Another label, words are labels. Words are used to convey thoughts. Thoughts cannot be conveyed. Words are a sad attempt, a sad attempt to let others know how one thinks and feels, or how one wants another to think one thinks and feels. Truly one's thoughts are written in mannerisms, movements, eyes, especially the eyes and the face. If thoughts are written and revealed through flesh why should one need words? Words are foolish simplified thoughts, yet some people live for them, die for them, bleed for them, love for them. I am one of those people, and paradoxically I'm not. The spoken word I abhor, the written word I live for. I feel dead, then I write and I'm resuscitated, I'm alive, I matter, if to nobody else, myself. It's the only universe I feel completely comfortable in. I can write what I think in the best way this pitiful language of words will allow. It doesn't matter if it's ever read again, the idea is presented in my head, interpreted through words, my medium: lead. Sure, that's enough, except it's not.
IT'S FUCKING NOT!
It holds me over
Ties my mind
Surely it's what
Keeps me alive
Surely for this
I would live
For when my mind is dead
I've nothing to give.
I give. I give. I give. I give. I fucking give.
I'm suicidal without a pen.
So, if it's this and that
Quid pro quo
Good and bad
Reaping seeds sewn
Yin and yang
Peace and war
Love and hate
Healed broken and sore
If all things are one
And come from the other
I've given and given
In receiving I'll recover
Until then I fuck
And get fucked up
Giving up on searching
Especially for love
My mind is swirling
Overturning opposite thoughts
Oily colors in h2o
Trapped inside a box
My synapses a tool
Forever mixing
Trying to combine
Reality with intuition
Problem solving
With no clear problem at hand
My thoughts revolving
Around matter and man
Questions unanswered
Halt progress of plans
I'll never know the answers
This is where I stand
I'll no longer search
I'll no longer plea
Considering thoughts
That my best bet's to flee
From questions and answers
From you and from me
From a life with plans
From hope to be free
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