the borderline buddha.

"i don't know which is worse, the pain of presence or the pain of absence.
"

masochist.

there's a storm of course, is why
i have anything to say.

lightning
has a way of extracting my power
from victimhood

so i'm now close, awfully close in fact
to believing in god again

it's not like i've been unsuspecting
that i could be struck one day

nor have i been innocent.
in fact, i've worked to procure it, toying around
in ways i'd been unprepared for

have even been so cavalier
to discard protection

against the great spirit world
i have no defense against otherwise.

dying
after all

has always been such a game,
an art i've mastered

let me show you
i could survive lightning too

in a way that i find death at its most raw

and gnaw away at its bones
until i suck out the marrow

and rise again

as someone made only
of this marrow.

starving ancestors
you spoke to me once and i re-live that periodically,

then i run, sometimes hide, bury.
and when i run, i do it to outrun you.

i run toward a volcano- in fact,
to throw myself in

i keep my eyes fixed on the mountain
and do not look back

see
you test me
why can't i test you, too,

on your ability to guide me
as the little human sacrifice

the pain in the ass
your capricious descendant
waiting
for the direction that i want-
for my own demands to be met.

you pull me back after i dive into lava,

charred and traumatized, and still
in one piece

your intentions being to hit me
it would feel so good to be hit again

hit me
the discipline gets me so hot

submerge me into the ocean

sure why not
what have i

got to lose

push me downward to the point
right before i would explode

where it's only us and night
night so black
even rape doesn't exist here-

meaning isn't dead here
as meaning has never lived.

this is me moving forward
from my petty world
into the macrocosm,

pushing past resistance,
oh yeah look at me doing all this hard work.
the mission is abandon everything i know,

this all being prison-
the symbol of fear i've superimposed
on its true face,

and on my own.

hello ancestors,
is how i greet the movements
lurking in night black night,

crowding around me
examining me like i'm interesting. you'd never
seen fear before,

isn't it stupid?

in both pleasure and in terror i kick and scream.

SOS to mommy
(i know you're here)
dear mommy it's me:

i call to you
to see fear from the inside,
from inside your womb

so that i may be the answer to my questions.

if you know what's good for you
in the womb,
eat your brothers and sisters

know honor as carrying all their stories
be the child that survives.

this is what your advice
has been to me

time and time again.

i've lost my appetite
each time i've tried.

today, i instead
watch them squirm in my jaws, one at a time
such big babies
in whom my teeth sink

i almost let myself taste it, past the cloud of tissue,

of blood,
of my vomit,
past my instincts to nurture.

this time
i face my determination
to not loosen my grip,

the lightning must strike me

the can of worms
that would've happened anyway

let it
and see if i care

(hahahahahaha)

it does not matter
that i've been so helpless anymore

only that
it no longer serves me

and now i hunt
after the parts of it that it'd taken from me.

glue trap.

war is everything, the backbone of life

said mommy
said daddy
said death and rebirth

whose uniform you're wearing.

war is transformation
is why the spirits are mean

at the same time they doggedly believe in you.

the only thing a warrior must learn
is extreme patience with this shit,

as the spirits play around with
your pain tolerance.

you've buried master phoenix
in the tangles of your diseased heart.

we're opening your chest
and luring him out, we want to die helplessly

as we lose awareness of all
except the loud bird sounds from the sky
who take us apart.

you are hostile
like the devil you worship; whose love you crave.

we release you into his fields, watching you run
before catching and torturing you
with your own starvation,

you being the only one master phoenix
will not eat,
there's nothing else left for you.

"
My son is in prison, I received a letter from him. I do not care, but it bothers me. Please prescribe me something to cry.
"

i call anaconda

yes i know it's a cure i seek
yes i know cures exist

outside the realm of possibility.

weave throughout my energetic fabric. wrap me
in your warmth, holy fuck do i want to get this death shit over with

now see me as smoke rising from the mountain, a disturbance

to the clouds,

underneath being
a cry of desperation

no longer welcome to me

the storm i house
is the only part of my life i
don't set free. she's the chakra
i've set fire to, somehow a part of my real
body, as in

the one buried underneath all the others. she who
bites and scratches at all who come near.

i offer myself

to the storm forever
to keep it going. let me have a way
to be myself. keep the storm going forever.

i'm not gonna deny it, not gonna lie by saying
my center is a pit or a seed

like how it is for the others
operating on the other wavelength.

mine will expand one day.
mine will be huge and it will change.

"Stigma formed by community reactions and displayed in the media is extremely damaging for any person experiencing any form of mental illness. It is damaging for an individual’s self-identity if they accept the stigma attached to mental illness and start to view themselves from the perspective of the person or social group who is stigmatizing and labeling them. The stigmatized individual internalizes, feelings of shame and guilt and will generally start to isolate themselves from others. This then contributes to the individuals changed sense of self-identity (SANE, 2011;). Becker (in Roach Anleu,1999: 28) states that the label of deviance has been successfully applied by the oppressive other or oppressive segment of society, if the stigmatized person accepts the label placed on them.

"

"Why is it that the United States armed forces have a bombing range on a Hawaiian island once filled with temples and sacred sites? Do they seriously believe that bombs can destroy the gods? I hope they will soon recognize that what destroys can only destroy itself[...]
"

despair of the endless.

it's a beautiful day outside.