Wednesday, July 20, 2016

cocaine blues.

you do not owe life a favor you do not remember.
you do not only know loss over what you had believed was recent birth.
you do not recognize innocence faithfully and die a terrible death when you lose sight of it. you do not never forget every detail
of the purity that is innocence.
you have a ground. check to make sure you are not wasting your ground.
you do not happen to be a new person every time a slight dynamic in your environment is noticed, or noticed and misinterpreted.
i am reflection. my name is irrelevant. my sex is irrelevant. everything is going to disappear upon slight movement.
i am not even a ghost.
i am a mirage. i am a thief. you can say that i know light
when i see it. each time

i try to grow independently i expire, becoming something else
i cannot trust will give me ground, but i hope i can be given it, so i go ahead and trust the moment anyway. "this is ground."

i hardly bear ability to remember. do you remember your past lives?
with shame bigger than the universe, i grasp onto the habitual. i know it will not disappear.

i attempt to ressurect things that were characteristic at different points,
but they are not mine anymore. it's not my business.
it is all a force. the pressure of thought itself
is force.

i say i celebrate my intimate awareness of change.
i worship change, i say.
that's me when i'm the change worshipper, afraid
of what the next change will be, confident
that none of this was supposed to happen.

i say i'm a waste of life, a complete joke,
when i'm the believer that nothing will ever go my way and if it does i will not appreciate it.

i say i learn from all of this loss, though i don't know what.
i say that jumping from new consciousness to consciousness prevents me from grieving,
though my life feels like a sick fantasy of someone who stuffs every desire deep under their share of earth.
i say when i'm "crazy" it's because i can't exactly explore anything else when i'm the crazy person,

wondering if these accusatory prejiduces will ever get me
to just wake up and lose my hyperactive awareness of light.

i wonder if they'll abort my rage, my depression, my anhedonia, my social mistrust, my trauma, my wounds, my battling. my nobility to go on through this constant rape; my sense of justice.
i wonder if these egos driven to protect themselves by facing me with nothing less than reminding themselves how much bigger they are than me will help. "do you know what color the sky is?"
i'm an urgency that chokes you is all. a vine crying from the earth, destroying your patios, telling you
you are suffocating the earth and you work to ignore it.

however, with confidence, i believe
nobody can move as quickly as i can.

i've always known i was a healer. i understand
god and everyone else needs people like me,
dispensed easily as we are indispensible.

i am here to show you yourself. this is my healing ability. it's not much, but it's something of use, something
of god's execution.
i am here to show others what they must learn
about themselves. i am here

to reflect what scares you most about yourself.
i am a psychic. this is my prowess- that of a lone wolf

walking toward death in the woods, to meet it.

what scares me about the experience is my ability
to become shadow-
i don't have a shadow of my own to cast.

i will work my way up in the circus.
"the yes and no at once act".
let me show you my confusion over personal experience: it's me,
the absolutist from the hall of mirrors.
the instrument unprepared for what's going to happen next.

abandonment.