I am since three weeks constant and accurate not sober. In each direction I am able to turn, I see opportunities, possibilities or basically a way, bit tangly here and there, but the interests of survival will sharpen the blade of the machete blood-red. On each level I climb or from I descend to get a clearer picture, what I want, what I experienced to be, to see, to be exposed, to face life, to splay my roots, my fasting roots, appendixes of mendacity. Balance. Between harmony and silence, madness and mayhem. Balance is love and love doesn´t exist. Instead of leaving me behind devastated and a killing glance mirroring in my blade, I could order a coconut shake and greet my yoga mates with a smile, before we hang ourselves up the stars and dip our pale and slimy genitals in some spicy black holes, in the moistening grand madam of a universe.
Job. Kids. Family. A place to stay, not as a place called only home, you selfish verdict. A sign. A broad hint, with a plank bloomed in the external fires of a futuristic positivism.
If I would love myself, I changed. My habits. A heavy lack of self-discipline, in particular if it comes to surviving. Or lack of control. But control myself? What for? Nothing is in control. If there would be an impact, supernatural or naturally caused by humans or other spacy dickheads, which erases men from planet earth, who would care? Men, yes, in the last second before we are substracted from existence, we should realize control never subsisted or preexisted, with your featherbrained ideas of almighty. Who cares in the end. Why should I? I will not blow up the amazement of fugacity and its human companions´ despair and hopelessness. Most of what we do is because of worries, fear, being scared of to be, or just black despair, blacken by control.
If there is a rainbow, don´t trust. Take it step by step, don´t want to loose my blackness, feels less as an illusion than your tarty self-awareness.
Maybe I should, encourage my colours to leave the dark.
Sometimes I feel like I started, I start to see.
Sometimes I feel my blindness turns more dark.
Greetings from the outside of the conventional reference system.
If you loose your passion for, leave! Whatever it is, but leave! This is an advice you might have read in one of my entries.
WAB (What a bullshit)!
So if you don´t feel the passion for anymore, leave. Go home wherever boredom and your passion takes place to be scheduled by system, guiding you to the last effort of feeling special and needed, having prepared the dependancies in front to pass safe and functional till beyond – where your unborn dreams and expactations last.
No.
Stay.
Passion needs to be created.
Passion is love.
And I love passion.
I would pay for it.
Come back!
Bitch.
