People are crazy! Times are strange… and, even the evening shadows cry. Infirmary can hardly see, the quality of man that is eye to eye with authority. The games people play--trapped in a cell one--championing the world in a bed of sea-weed toking in my hands… the red lights of the cops circle through my head.
The long-arm of the law reaches out and touches me. Meanwhile away, in a further part of town , my family and friends have no idea of this shit that’s going down. The heat was up on me, my ass was in a stir--a flavorful problem, has left me in a blur-------blurb-ing in a psych ward like a blubbering idiot. I was a Babylonian unable to communicate my resentment for being caught. I was guilty--of course--caught and responsible for wanting to escape the solitary dimension of my own loneliness by comforting a smoke.
A flame burned under a mass-- yeah calmness, that’s almost like this--damn boring! Comforter where is your comforting now? I’m stuck in a rut of a dreadful path of despair… suddenly true optimism emerges…
Are we going to condemn a whole life for one minute of it? You see the trap that is set for us; wanting to make us think that we are human by chance? Sabotaged by the colonists of each immediate result of this chronic emigration is that surplus exploitation that compels, establishing itself law.
Soledad--that is what you can call me--a lonely woman that you can’t understand. How many depths can I go to relinquish the past indiscretions of a time changing--of a me, changing…modifying myself in an unfit reality of a caged animal in the barricades of a hysterical Minds eye?
A weather man comes on the tube--I look over my empty chair and table…no friends here! To see a bit of downcast skies! Rain will fall from the storms eye, shining lightening will strike the on the empire--state of emergency has not yet been declared. I’m not tired and still I drift off to sleep--blowing the wind--into the flat coldness of my reality. Conditions in here can bite--prepare for the Suck!
To harp that no one can know anyone, individuals souls are impenetrable, men are like hunks of stone is foolish. Opaque--really here and now, men are engaging in projecting their desires into the future. I’m in the condition of my past…in short a potential and not a sum total of my experiences. I’m a bundle of possibilities, following you posterity! Solitude is the spiraling disintegration, a branch that’s always filled and always open again.
In short, I’m severed by the fetters of my own indulgence! I’m the contradiction of being within and outside of myself. I go beyond and fall short of myself. I accuse and I am accused…before all man…which makes me indubitably… man. I am thrown into the world amongst others and I get my kicks out of living amongst others. Joining in a group unendingly and never thinking of myself is intoxicating! And then, solitude springs forth like a hidden distance, ceaselessly tormenting me always protecting me against the turning into worms (food)!
I command a communal action! My mere existence is a perpetual evasion and a latent betrayal of this candid vacuum…I demand a recount on the votes to put me in this damn place--want to make a deal? Juiced in the finest schools; I quenched a thirst for wisdom/ knowledge by it and desired a cup to use it…to fill. The fluid, the liquor of life, would overflow--if only you’d let me go! You took from me everyday…how could you still…how does it feel to be unheard?…you ranted at me--now you can’t even get a word in edgewise--the double-edged blade of a sword--a tongue cuts both ways friend! I’m bored!
With a perpetual reprieve and a chain of vicissitudes, you have a lot of nerve to call me your friend. You said I let you down so why if you’re hurt, don’t you show it? Faith--I have no faith to lose right now--I’m martyred. I used to walk amongst the crowd that you run with…The absolute cool people that are around, is all of us around us. The truly cool is beneath our footsteps in each of our gestures.
I write down my own Time, I’m a master thief--stealing away the truth from assumptions and completely natural stabilities at present.
Do you feel the pain of my essence? It stinks to be closed, clothed in the animosity of a fascist vice beyond civilization. The deluge… Be careful! In judging me you’re judging yourself. You are deciding if you are man or beast when you take my immediate physical freedom away from me! You are also determining the rules upon which your own future actions will be prosecuted as; equal rights, correct? What’s good for the goose is good for the gander!
You don’t know me--and you won’t. This pain in here--I can’t stay in here! Inside the haunted chambers of my mind…the truth never reveals itself directly--I hunger through my errors for a greater passion, that of…Love.
A frailty deeply human, composes separable parts of Me to reveal an caroused courage and patience to continue on, outside of these doors. I am anchoring myself to other--hitching my wagon to a star--and drifting only in thought.
Dust sits on the idle--I rest, I rust. I cannot bear myself, I was enabling my failures through a drugged and drunken stupor due to a lack of courage to discover the predicament that I really faced…I was a small child in the dark ardors of life.
Strangely hauling a mans body connected to an inevitable, perspective--fate guides the willing and drags the unwilling. I don’t like being destined to a placid despair. I like to express my impressions or ideas in a solemn imitation to the rites of an adult. No longer sheltered by the dis-embodiment of re-assurance--now I am willing to assert that some things are irrelevant in the comical play of life…
I am Joker, who had engaged in the marvelous plumage of a Toker--found that I was outside in the distance. Now I’m trying to truly embody Me. Escape is impossible--a legend in my own mind. I’m free and always have been. I re-emerge as a symphony of Form, in spontaneous color. I, a living consciousness, a group of individual parts uniting to construe the screw up being that I will call…Me. I’ve overcame the burden of creating a concerned Self.
The illusion of control, no longer binds me to her laws…torturing my soul. I am free to step outside myself when I engage in the companionship of my fellow man. I question and jeopardize my existence when I interact. The void--I suddenly rid my Self of my “civilized” self, and realized that purpose and meaning have no place beyond the illusion.
I’m free from the burden of being me. I compass my compassion: “For she who has given much is loved much”. I let go of the harmful burden of a mechanical automaton and allow myself to see--more so hear the silent peace which passes understanding? A possibility to Be. My what-nes is never complete, it is always being made. Tangled up in the intricate web, I weave a struggle for existence to accommodate myself.
Echoing in the cage at night a stillness sang. I wasn’t a passive being in the world, I needed to transcend my instincts and guide my own life. An animal cannot draw up a project of life other than the mere monotonous repetition of its previous actions. An animal does not have the capacities of imagination to allow it to design a vital project, because it is determined by nature.
I can retreat into the sanctuary of my own interior and immerse myself in thought…I’m in an unending struggle to accommodate myself in life…I place myself in situations and in social contracts with others. I am responsible to others therefore: I respect. The responsibility for personal acts can not be diminished by the excuse of instincts. I am free and not determined by my instincts!
I’m required to live as a pragmatic being placed in a situation, thrust into the world, and I must chose to act in order to continue living. I am captured by my ownership of my choices: I am ultimately the author of my own destiny.
Bound to a body but not by it; I propel myself into a future through my interactions with others, in order to preserve a contingent existence. I love and crawl down the avenues of thought--a valley of blood, sweat and tears from all of the years of abusing my body--I was estranged by my own, condemning neutrality. I was choking down my own poison, a polluted air in a puff of smoke…when I had breathed a breathe of release.
I stupidly got my ass in a stir wading through the meandering darkness of a mad woman’s tomb--a room in the hospital psych ward! I thought I saw something move. An intricate machine with highly complicated mortal humans acting as parts…a society? The voyage out into the night--bound hollow room of torturous punishment--lent me the warmth of views promising an “Odyssey” emblematic of life.
I fly high (yet sober). Raised in the hands of oneness, as an acute observer of society, I care. Things have changed, the ubiquity of death is not at a torturous cost. “It doesn’t mean shit to me, Jack.” I’m filled up with a sense of contiguity and the fragility of human enterprises is enough. Civilization is precarious and maintained only at a torturous cost.
I can not see the whole of life neither can those who propound that they can! My attempts to expand my understanding is both comic and pathetic. The intelligible formulates for the first time…everything is common. My central preoccupation of freedom from this room--rid me of the burden of being me--an unknown, authentic who constructs a reality in order to see the unseen--Other!
The inscrutable ways of fate, have a reactionary-attitudinal quality. A trip up the river through the tunnel of failure has led my stream of consciousness to my native room. Through a literal verbal tongue’s motion (my emotion) an energizing effect of the immediate foundations appears.
An expedition to break through the parameters of my nightmare vault, leads me with an energizing effect. I entered a wider world of flesh from a skeleton underneath.
An expedition to break through the parameters of my nightmare vault, leads me with an energizing effect. I entered a wider world of flesh from a skeleton underneath.
Noble and common: a mysterious dream world is transformed into a valid connection with worthwhile activities in the real world. A struggle waxes and wanes in a life of constructive possibilities. “I Am”, is my primary certainty.
My mind runs freely in a process of association-- a human enterprise. My thought indelibly continues on alone… onwards into darkness. I am an ephemeral life of a butterfly. Morphing, changing from the corridors of a judiciary juncture; placed in a box, a slave to my own fits of passion.
Now I’m a suffering survivor intensified by the validation of a brief moment (soiled by the toilsome sweat of my briefs) when I socked the face of the world, leaving it black and blue with the frivolous type of “a plot thickens” mark.
I struck the depths of isolated escapades first with the cryptic message of acceptance. I am a deeply complex puzzle; disaster rushes over the rock--solid presence of my opaque self. The flowing water, lasting adjustment of gradual decay, you may wear me down but I am still present--not complete!
My powers in a white-washed hallway, a passage-way for a deeper chamber of actuality that you can’t deny me the manifestation of you… You, universe have been hit by… Art!
The provisions in the crippled shambles of a mad insecurity, the ugly intrusions of a pervasive irony of sublime reflections; and, idle chatter hopeful of intimations and imitations ridicule me. I received the bracket occupancy of a lighthouse, arranging its elegiac mood into human affairs Identifying myself with the long-stroked reaches of the beacon of light, I reached for a direction in my life. Dolefully, intoning the extravaganza, a blatant form of walking strides (or more so crawling millimeters at a time) in the ambit of the alliances of human affairs.
My self-knowledges are observable facts disconnected and confusing. I abstract fragmented words and concepts into the tranquil conclusion of a larger pattern of life. In retrospect and its romantic to and balanced have a man outside my door. The possibility to protect against my personal isolation and meaningless existence is a vitality that I have lacked in the past. The possibility of mutual sympathy--empathy--and Love, is provided by his guarding and ensuring of safety…
Besides, this mans a cutie. He probably also struggles to reconcile his own juxtaposed differences not unlike me! He frustrates his attempts with a primeval voice sounding loud in the ear of the present…bridging the distance; filling the emptiness and continued the emotion.
My capturer-- stands in the allusive and intricate combinations of vitality. He seems exhausted. He stands in my shoes, as do you-- Dear Reader-- as you precariously fight through the lot of breaking the static moments of my life. A pattern of conflict emerges, soundless… you speak and thus communicate… the keeping of Faith…
Only in my dreams it seems, can I escape the reality of me... Watching the morning rise...
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