He burns, under my skin.
all three fucking layers;
physically, mentally and spiritually.
You want to play the guilt game? Well I can play it too.
You can’t keep wrapping silk around the wounds you caused.
You can’t cover up your harsh words with letters of love.
You can’t throw a pity party as your optimistic thoughts dance to their deaths.
You can’t sharpen your nails like spears then try to caress me.
And you can’t fix the paranoid love you ripped to shreds with your own insecurities.
And yea, I will happily keep reading Bukowski with a glass of red in my hand.
In a crazy world
Where anxiety doesn’t exist. Repression, depression and all those words that attach weights to the bottoms of our feet are nothing but a nightmare that exist only when our eyes shut. A place revolved around encouragement, confidence and equality. Where everything and everyone has a place and being humble is a natural innate thing that comes with birth; like hunger and hydration. Where our conscience only consists of an angel on each shoulder, whispering breathless soliloquies that keeps your head high and the ceilings higher. When money is just a bonus and not a goal, and inspiration isn’t a Google search away. When walking into the sunlight does not make us squint and run into the shade, but instead embrace and bathe in with the hopes that it will shine brighter than our iPhones. Where staring at a garden in physical form brings a satisfaction that doesn’t need to be photographed and publicized, but rather a solitude bliss that only your eyes and that moment deserve. Showing your children attention isn’t considered throwing an iPad in their laps, but a baseball and a glove to form bonds that don’t require a Facebook friend request as reassurance. Instead of drugs being the only resort to temporarily block out the pain, we instead cope the natural way that forms a stronger layer around the broken areas. When the media encourages beauty to be different and much more than just a muscular, flawless, tall, trendy, narrow-minded silhouette of inaccuracy. A place where monsters are only under our beds instead of in our heads.
Like I said, a crazy world.
“Money buys happiness”
one of the most controversial lines known to man. To me, money brings temporary happiness. Anyone who is financially stable can walk into a store knowing they are able to afford as much as they’d like and spoil themselves to the core. To me, the feeling of walking into a store with a limited amount of money can bring a happiness that no infinite amount can bring. As a kid, i was always put in those positions, constantly wishing i’d get lucky and find a 50 on the ground. My luck never changed, but now i am grateful for that. I remember the feeling of walking through the aisles with only the sound of my allowance clinging in my pocket, reminding me of my limited choices. I had this love for animal figurines, but finding affordable ones was my biggest problem. The second i’d see one an array of emotions rushed through me. The most dominant was hope and excitement for the item meeting my price limit. When i found out i could afford it, that I was able to take it home to my collection, i don’t think anything could of brought me more happiness. To me there is a big difference between the happiness of knowing you could buy all the figurines that the store has to offer, and the happiness of finding one unexpectedly that you will cherish and appreciate because you walked into the store not knowing if you can afford something that special at all.
A bucket. The only metaphorical way that helps me understand the growth of a person. A bucket starts off empty and clean. Eventually the bucket will be filled, maybe slowly, maybe quickly. constantly filled with different liquids or solids. Most of the time it can leave debris from its past, overlapping other substances or mixing together. Over time this bucket will ware out and become effective on how well it works.
A baby. Born into confusion with pure innocents and an empty bucket. Growing up you get yourself -or get thrown- into situations that effect the way you perceive and deal with things. These types of experiences leave its remains that eventually start building up. Everyone grows up getting filled to the rim with these incidents that haunts their every action, sometimes influencing it on others. So we carry around these buckets, straining our backs to avoid building the strength to just empty them. Some ignore it, let it eat away at their mind without even realizing the damage its doing.The only problem is, we cant go out and buy a new bucket, the most we can do is free ourselves from the heavy load or throw a lid on it.
The accuracy with life’s expectancy is fading away with every life you see
The things you see on your tv are all propaganda and imaginary
What we need to see is the truth of technology and our deteriorating creativity
Because life will never live up to be what the media is trying to force feed
The only reason kids will ever step on the grass and leaves is because they lost track from staring at their hypnotizing screen
The only reason a teen may go out to eat is to post a picture to gain likes for all the rest to see
And soon these teens will be older and see that their children’s childhood will be replaced with the constant need
To build their confidence by staring into a glass screen that will predict if they will be accepted into society
Yes I’m contradicting because I am a product of this scheme
But now I know what to blame when my child feels to incompetent to just be.
There’s a lunatic running around in my brain.
he camouflages in my thoughts which makes him impossible to maintain.
No matter the lengths I got to eliminate him, he always comes back.
The minute I doubt the truth is his favorite attack.
He continuously tells me story’s to convince me of the worst.
My stupidity on handling the situation is the feedback he thirsts.
The worst of feelings come as I realize he’s won again.
But the situation has gone to far for it to mend.
So I let him do it, let him eat away at my trust.
Ruining any potential relationship with just a fragile touch.
I let him stay, told him make himself at home.
Because as insane as it may sound, it’s better than being alone.