Sunday, June 12, 2016

the scarred beasts of all, 02.

that which is tender inside will not be experienced as tender outside
though the outside of our inner-experience is what we are.
we must offer ourselves
before our surroundings, which we fear, praying they
and unveil an ease we beg for them to. this is an experience of hunger
losing its knowing of itself.

i have not been born though i believe every experience
i convince myself of.
i believe in my hunger beyond my starvation.
i am addiction waiting to become believed in.
i am addiction.
this is another experience of hunger losing its knowing of itself.

we will brutalize love until it is recognized without fear, though
we will continue to brutalize love, as we will displace
our fear of it onto the reception others have of us.
we will fear they think us inconsistent; that they are suspecting of us.
hunger, again, loses its knowing of itself.

we must remember that night would not be night without its
hiding in the womb of day
in which it is birthed out when day goes to rest inside
of the womb of night. the latter is a dark undercurrent, as

the former is a quick shark sweeping ripples
beyond the skies of the earth. the shark is not driven by hunger
but by starvation.

though nothing is ruined, we are ruins of our experiences- fascinations
of our own manifesting.
we fear success because we believe in fear

which we turn to when entrusted
to defeat our limitations as this task is an impossible force and titanic imposition.

success will not earn us the conquest of freedom.
freedom cannot be earned.
success is a dark sewer that does not exist.

we have been sabotaged and we look away from it.
we have been sabotaged so badly and looking away from it is our sole trauma response.

do you know that this is happening to you, or are you okay
with it? do you expect it
therefore you allow it, deeming such
your "power"? do you believe it is your doing

as you accept the weight of your conscious
to deepen you to loss of forgiveness?

you've already lost your forgiveness if you believe you can only do so indirectly.

today everybody is a criminal.
nobody is happy and everybody is a criminal- and there's a togetherness in this.
it is hard to face and we all know this.

it is hard to speak of the knowledge that brings us to the present moment.
it is easy for me to empathize with this.

our ruining is a self generated obelisk
housing a single window
which a seagull repeatedly rams into- confusing you, who stands
inside, for her babe.

this ruinous behavior splinters my bones. this is ballet
i enjoy memorizing
because i can memorize it.

i am the morning's lark joining in the sun's dance- mother and father that i am
explore possibilities through me.

every movement means its own word of change
reflecting others
never to relieve our own selves, as we do not identify as others. change is whole. nothing
is ruined of incarnation as incarnation is change

which is whole.

omnipresence of absence is felt
and painful to feel. the roles for me to fulfill have not

yet been discovered, thus
i long to belong, transgressing the ignored belonging.

giving in as a forced destitution is an expression of unfulfilled
this inner-war splinters my bones. remember, this is ballet.
keep fixed, noticing
how you are never quite fixed

unless the sensory experience at present overwhelms you.
you know how it is said that us birds are
so stupid.
i say it and i know you must've, as well.

birds will never be stupid, as we fly, unburdened
by our ability to do so.
i am the morning lark who appears after the sleep of every star;
hear my wings fly.

i become the worm i seek while pecking through
last last year's autumn leaves under bushes untouched by human hands- everything

inside my knowing throwing itself outside of me
adjusting into a sole understanding
of which i'm to step into, hoping
to notice.

i understand the smell of the dirt that grabs the bottoms
of those who trudge the earth, passive

to the sensibilities of flying. i see myself in this and i do not see myself
in this at all.
i am the wound and the weapon that is nature.

i was reached inside to be brought downward, notwithstanding
exhalation of oxygen.
this is innocence unashamed as desecrated beasts have not yet
learned to breathe of. they have not yet learned to breathe

without the heaving mother (denied to be spoken of).
i see myself and i do not see myself. this could all possibly
be kosmos, oh sky. i am shiftless

and bearing of the mother and father inside
and bearing of unobtainable energy i will not give a name to. i am lunacy
burdened by awareness. i am awareness
burdened by lunacy. i am genius- awake- and i am dark matter- unmanifested.

i am burdened

by the genius that is not mine and burdened
by the genius that is mine. such equates
sensitivity, of which i am- and unwilling to speak ill of such, and i am frequently afraid of my feelings being hurt. i see myself and i do not see myself.

realize pride and find yourself climbing with and against it.

this happens to be sweet and i expect rot.

in this ballet, we pull out consciousness and we do not kill ourselves.
now is when we deny sacrificing,

desires are abundant. there will never be a scarcity. reject inclination to make offerings to desires- or furthermore, sacrifices. desires are offerings themselves for us, for us to refine our abilities to choose.
they will never contain us though we grow confused about our wild and intense treatments concerning desires.

if it is now the appetite is endless.
we pull out consciousness.
we pull out consciousness.

we begin by going elsewhere.