Distance did little to curb the appetite of man seeking refuge in a community of sin, the debauched had their own set of rules, and nobody wanted the truth that I knew so little about myself, marking me deceptive and lumping me in with others, my defenses and voice muted by the unwillingness to hear my story, unable to peacefully evolve or expand beyond these broken beliefs, and tear myself from unrealistic visions that harmony is possible in the complications of lust.
Seeking unconditional love in a world full of conditions will inevitably fail, Detachment from form is birthed among familiarity, not astrangement. Only when we allow others into our hearts do we become capable of release.
Compassion and detachment are two lovers holding hands, Is it love if we seek control over anothers actions? To seek possession of ones sexuality? I love you if...?
Wanting the best for another is an offer of freedom. If we are not offering freedom, we are not offering love.
We are all born so beautiful. The greatest tragedy is being convinced we are not."
Once upon a time there were things I did not see I was completely blinded to the beauty in front of me...
See, every morning I'd look at my reflection I never saw the beauty there I only saw the imperfection The mirror told me things and like a fool, what did I do? I hung onto every lie it said convinced that they were true...
But they weren't... the mirror had lied I wasn't ugly... I had beauty INSIDE! I...
for how long it took me to let things go. It was not my intention to make such a production of the emptiness between us, to try and keep some dead painter's perspective alive. It’s just that I could have sworn you had sung me a love song back then and that you meant it but I guess sometimes people just chew with their mouth open. So I ate ear plugs alive with my throat hoping they’d get lodged deep enough inside the empty spots and I wouldn’t have to hear you leaving, and I wouldn’t have to listen to my heart howling. ...
In this moment After three years of pain and sometimes inner agony I found a haven Where everything is as it's supposed to be
Going to work during the day Sinking into games and books by evening time It sounds so much like ordinary living It's what I wanted, it's the perfect ryhme
All dreams of "something special" are now resting Under the golden blanket of self-understanding All of those dreams where just a craving to belong But for me this ambition is now sleeping, almost gone
Stare at the ceiling Think No - Nothing Roll Chin to Sheet Stare at the pillow Think Memories Uncomfortable Stir crazy Go outside Smoke Bored. Bored. Bored Eyes tired Lay down Stare at the ceiling Think
Today is like no other day, for today has never been. Today will pass, it can not stay, and can never be again. Can one measure the value of a minute, or the price tag on an hour? Will you fully throw yourself in it? Will you give in to it's power? Will you accept how small you are in the grand scheme of all things? What is it we are living for? What is the sense of being? For as today will surely pass, soon so too shall we. How does one leave a mark that lasts on the face of eternity?