(via bohemea)
Dream…
(via makeitcontagious)
Barely grasping the edge of a consuming black abyss of a pit, the sweat seeping beneath my hands and fingers create a landslide between the dirt and skin, like the corruptive shifting of teutonic plates. My heart, the surface, crumbling and viciously shaking, destroying buildings, people, streets, all that I’ve ever known and now forgotten. Petrified, my body only allows me to move my arms and hands, struggling for life, and not the unknown below my toes. I shouldn’t have looked down, but I am whole heartedly foolish. Fixing my eyes to my hopeless destination above. I see two hands, reaching out to me. A miraculous gift. I look at the faces of which the hands belong too. One my father, and one my mothers. Instinctually i reach out my hand. But alas to whom’s? Damn you God. Damn you life. Why at this moment do you never cease to test me? Sweat from my brow rolls into my right eye, along with it a twitch from my neck down. Reactively my hand begins to stretch out but I tensely draw it back, for how how am I to choose? I cannot bestow more trust upon the other. I cannot place favoritism into one hand. I feel my left hand drawing more toward the edge, slipping from what supposedly is life but really only a cruel game. I cannot choose. My bodies nerves tighten even more, blood begins to churn, and my sweating profusely continues. I cannot decide, I will not choose. Only a cruel soul could. They both hold the same amount of love. 50/50. No less or more. Damn you God, damn you life. I can feel the bones in my fingers exhaust, and the muscles in my arms begin to give way. Another tear of sweat welcomes itself in my eye. Damn it all. They both raised me, clothed, and fed me. Not ones memories outweighing the other, nor ones love. So how is it I am destined to choose. My fate to choose?I thought fate was something in higher hands. Nope, it’s in mine, which currently are occupied by hands full of mud, the epoxy of sweat and dirt. Torment me no longer God. I have been good, my parents good, fuck, this black abyss probably has, everything good. But not this. Damn you. Damn this dreadful curse you have blessed me with, one in which only a poor fool with an ugly soul could fill a favorite’s hand with his. Damn you. Damn fate. Damn life. Damn it all to the furthest and deepest pit of hell. I chuckle at the irony of the last sentence as I again look at the gaping oblivion below my feet. I would be a fool, a poor, poor fool to decide. I look back up into the eyes of my father and mother. I see their intent to help, that parenthood instinct of a wild animal protecting it’s cub. But I can see past that now, so close to death, my feet nearly touching it’s tongue from it’s black mouth. I can feel it’s warm and awfully horrid breath now. I strain my eyes to see, searching upon their eyes and only seeing the one true thing you see in all people. The abomination of man. The pity of us all. Sin. As well, i can see that I’m not the only one who wants to know which hand I’ll grasp. I can see it. As plain as day now. Selfish and arrogant. My own father and mother. As real to me as ever before. I am lost. Gone. I can look them in the eyes no longer, as much as a blind man could. I feel cruelty creep up my back, arms around me, it’s breath matching that of the black abyss beyond my feet. Hate. So much hate. Damn you God. Again looking down, but this time tilting my head down too. Down, down, down. I shed a tear, not for fate, but for myself. My selfish self. I watch it disappear in the mouth of hell. I cannot decide, I will not choose. Damn you God, damn you. Repeating these things in my head has now become a faint whisper amongst my lips. Damn. I will not choose. God damn you. I cannot decide. Still looking down, I make the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. One I’m sure I’m not the first to make. So genius. Lifting my head back up, seeing my right arm still crying for touch, eyes burning from sweat, tears, and desperation, I look into their eyes once more, now seeing no father and no mother, only hate and deception. Lies. I hold my hand out just a bit further, and while so, still scanning their face and eyes, I give a small smile. Perhaps small due to the nervous nature of my genius decision, because at that moment I reached out with my left hand, damn you God, I did it. And in those final moments of seeing their empty hands and faces, I found it all somewhat quite comedic, because obviously I made the best choice, one that not even God would’ve suspected. I tricked God, just as he had tricked me. Damn you God. Chuckling to myself I notice everything beginning to dim, everything farther and darker. Damn you God. I win.
(via She Blogged By Night: Happy 80th Birthday, William Shatner)
And there you were, beauty in absolute. my heart tore a hole from my chest and burrowed itself into the dirt to plant the seed from which some would call love, i would call jealousy, and every time you come to fill my head like dreams i can’t forget, it over flows and rains like streams of sweat, down my face and in my eyes where it burns horridly but still can see the light.
My time can’t be wasted because life is somewhat meaningless anyway, seeds grow and live and die slow, we can enjoy it drunk and have a reason to live to the next drink, or can die trying, and some might think of me a pessimist and say im crazy, and ill shake their hand and tell them how awful it is someday, but your still beautiful and age can’t do you any harm, my fingers feel your hips and lips and im gone.
And reality becomes a dream, and play through the open seams of our eyes, our lashes intertwined , a kaleidoscope in-between minds, a super nova that pulls itself in two. Is this what they call love? A colored bliss in euphoric oblivion. Its me and its you. And is all that is left of us too. Let’s share this dream and maybe we can feel a taste of reality. And taste the feel of absolute. Almost heaven. But we got off a stop early.
This is our reality.
In my mind, I’ve seem to run out of room. My head is full of pointless thoughts, those such as dust being an analogy and/or metaphor of love. It’s everywhere, and we all just wipe it away. In a way such like existentialism, it is just there, spread upon my desk, either i don’t comprehend its existence, or i realize, and brush the dust into the air, and eventually disappearing from actuality’s grasp of reality. Soaring into a so-called “oblivion” which is an inconceivable concept, for no one can grasp the idea of nothingness. Paradox. Ha. The dust eventually falls and becomes a part of conscienceness and joins our dull reality once again for a split moment in time, until on the carpet and again completely and optically vanishing. When really like love, even if we can’t see it, its existence is not denied. It does not lack, it has substance, even without seeing. Disproving the well known saying “seeing is believing”, false. Believing in what you cannot see, or seeing into something that you cannot see. This is just. I believe in love, and i see into its nothingness. In its hollowed warmth, I am alive.
“One girl, one boy, some grief, some joy.
Memories are made of this.”
eye
(Source: eliseeboo, via makeitcontagious)