The pain softens over time... the hard lines that cut their way across my heart will dull.
For now... I will wrap myself in the star-studded mantel of Nox and wait... and remember to breathe.
On Passion...
Cheapened humanity. That is what I see when I look around me... a culture of people who live their entire lives without actually living.
Everything they strive for is so shallow... I wonder if they will ever know what it means to be alive and awake in this world... and I wonder if they could survive it if they were.
The lack of passion for life disturbs me when I see it... so like zombies they work and die like solder ants. Do they know what could await them if they turned away from expectations and the bland colors of normalcy?
Blegh. I’m not complaining so much as contemplating. I have learned to see a different world... a world of passion and color and pain that I love... Life burns in me like a fire, pushing me forward to the unknown and the exciting.
Every day a blessing... every pain treasured... Every moment measured for what it truly means to me, not some social filter I’m supposed to see it through.
There is the whole issue I think... I have rejected societies rules... I let what is wild and untamable within me have a place of importance. And it scares them... scares the living hell out of those who like to know what to expect, who dislike wild surprises heading their way.
Wild... agh... yes... Wild. Passionate… in an honest way that seems to be almost gone today.
Remember passion??? Not arousal… not generic hornyness… but passion?
Most people don’t I have found. Passion swells, heats, courses through every last inch of you, setting fires that cannot be burned out by mere fucking. Passion demands more than a physical act… it demands a passionate return… that is the only way to quench it… senses afire, a touch more than a touch, a look laden with more meaning that words could ever dare try to carry…
Do they even miss it? Are they that dead inside? Are they that scared of feeling something other than the ghosts of what we as humanity are truly capable of?
Its so sad. They are missing so much… so very much.
"I have Poetry in my blood."
"So you like to write...?"
"No really... I have poetry in my fucking blood."
Its always an interesting conversation at least.
Its not that I go out of my way to be difficult, or hard to understand... it just seems that as time goes on, I understand less and less of what makes other people tick. So much seems so... shallow.
I dislike shallow... I can't understand why anyone would pass up an opportunity to delve as deeply as possible into what interests them... or into themselves... and when I go into poetry mode, I dive as deeply as possible to find a moment or emotion worth writing about.
My poetry is a part of me. Each one I write, a little piece of me I rip off to share with the world... The words course through me, and I experience each one as it is written.
And the process is as important as the results to me... the writing my form of painting... almost a spiritual experience in all honesty.
I have poetry coursing through my blood... Because its not just words Im putting together... Its me
Say something.
Not just anything.
Challenge me... make me think, make me remember, make me dig deep.
Ask me questions and then refuse my answers... why is that so hard???
Do you ever wonder what my world looks like? Its not what you think it is... I promise. Im a savage masquerading... the mask almost perfect... only those who can *Feel* me will ever understand.
I don’t want praise. I don’t want to hear the shallow words anymore. I want to know WHY... want to know what it is Im touching in people... want to know how someone as twisted and sinister as I am flies under the radar of so many.
"Your sexy!"
*Snort*
Sure I am... Im half insane... Bloodlusting... Energy Hungry... Fiendish as a motherfucker... and quite capable of inflicting more than just physical damage.
This amuses some people.
It shouldn't.
I have a challenge in my eyes... I see the things you cannot... do the things you would not... and own every inch of myself.
Agh… the tactile quality of your self-delusion… I drink it up like wine.
*Smile*
Who will understand this?
My guess is... not many
Violent, longing shadows linger in me, long after I thought they might be filled... I yearn and a I hunger just as I always did.
I use to think I would have full handle on myself at some point in time. Loss of self control is quite out of the question... especially now... now when I have a hell of a lot more riding on me being able to appear normal than I ever did before.
Im not sure why the monster lingers so close to the surface... All it takes is a moment... and she is there... full tilt boogie... and its fucking ON.
And the main issue?
I fucking love it. I wield her like a weapon... Pull her shadows around me and burn in the fires of its beauty.
Perhaps I am tired of trying to tame her... That is a full time job anyways... and it never lasts longer than a few moments.
But... Im not *me* when Im not her as well. Im not complete without my monster stirring below the surface, ready to pounce...
Aghh.... Well then... Guess the world will have to learn to like her too.
COMMENTS
Awesome. You have your very own she-Hulk barely under control, restless and pacing behind bars that really can't confine her.
And how frustrating it is!
This way, or that way? This choice, or that choice? This thing, or that thing?
Grrrrr!
All this choice making, and no one to bounce ideas off of... My head is quite... swimming with it all, and Its driving me nutty!
And its not one set of choices, its a SLEW of choices, from just about every area of my life.
*sigh*
COMMENTS
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Angelus
16:22 Apr 01 2011
phrased well...