Found&Lost

And nothing, I mean nothing is ever enough. Or it is too much. Too often I am here and then I am there but never truly here. Fuck. Do I have control in this? Do I have a say as to what direction this will take me. Am I living in misery purposefully or just wishing blindly. Oh my, oh my do the stars shine but I only notice it for a split second before I seek out another source of validation. Wow, oh wow where have I been ? Just spinning in circles in a pretty dress. My ancestors needed it. I, however, am beginning to realize it is a source of frustration and less than forgiving results. I would like to be free of this need. This need for validation, this need for love from you. I am needy. Am I? Aren't we all? I bet my neediness bugs you and reminds you of yourself, yet you aren't able to realize it. Just push away the need for love, the need for attention. Push it away and let it rise some other time. I am learning; I suppose to not need you, or this or that. To not need things to be a certain way or to have them perfectly in line with what I believe is inviting. At this point, everything I thought I needed and now have...I just want to throw it all way because it is hitting me in the head two-fold. It's like I have what I think I want but I'm still standing outside the glass, drooling and banging my head until it bleeds. Ouch. To produce an affect, to produce a stimulus. Evoke a thought, a feeling. This magic has got me twisted, blinded, spinning in circles of self-deluded theories and hypocrisies. So, it leaves me to want to get lost in the sounds of nothing. Of something, of a heartbeat, of the wind in the trees, lost in the warmth of the sun. But that's no way to live in this society, what are you really doing with your life? Is it everything you wanted or are you waking each morning wanting more. For me, I'm going to choose to stay lost; not in thought but in feeling.

She has Died

What does it mean to die? My rose colored glasses have changed color. To the color of, well I don't quite have the name for it yet. But I'm wondering, what does it mean to die? What does it mean to be vulnerable. To be real, genuine, heart on your sleeve in the heaviest storm. What does it mean to reveal yourself in an authentic way. Is it even up to the other to be loaded out onto in terms of spilling your guts to them so they love you. Spilling your guts onto them so all they can do is say to themselves, "Wow, that is a lot of blood...and now you've gotten it on my sheets." What does it mean to be real. To be humble, to speak of lovingly, to diminish, to spit on, conspire against. What does it mean to hold on tight in the wind where everything is going full speed and you've got only two hands, and the sky is tearing apart into a great black space of time. I am getting sucked into time, into space and it is everlasting. The piece is new and shiny, the thought is fresh and crisp. I can smell the sweet grass, I can hear the bird vibrate in my lungs. To be seen, to be heard, is to be. What do I have to offer? I have to make a scene, I need the attention to be felt real. I need the validation, the stamp on the letter. What have I got to give other than a few tricks up my sleeve. The joker is a thief. and the child is the mother. I am lost...again. In between reality and delusion. The person I want to be and the person that is me. I am lost. In time and depth of being, the scene twists, it turns into oblivion. What am i doing here? Is it something that could be held onto? It is but a fleeting memory. I just like the way it is to feel keys underneath my fingers. The fluid movement of all my fingers and watching the bones pop out of my hand as I type. I'll lead you onto believe I'm dumb, because I already know you think of yourself as dumb. What a waste of energy. To think and believe in an altered reality. Where have my feet been. In the sand, in the heat. Soaking up this whole body. And the beat of my heart, I never let myself feel it. I couldn't regulate my nervous system. It was too hard, it was too tough. Like a brick lie on top of me and I had nowhere else to dive in deep. Move through the door onto the other side. This is where all the magic lies. Yes, lies. Magic is lies and deceit. You cannot run from your life. But I will try. The wind danced neutrally with my body, light as a feather. the answers of wisdom came flooding to my mind as I moved my hands in perpendicular motion set forth from the bottom of my feet and the tip top of my forehead. Wow, what a feeling. I allowed the messages to flood in and I instantly began to analyze, throw away, keep close, leave in the dust. It was all too real, the scent of the stench, the stale and wretched corpse lying in the dark. I came to realize that I am no longer able to wear this disguise. You will not meet the martyr in me nor the victim of disbelief. She has died.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJRJ73MmmTU

You are Dead

And then I realized that I didn't need anything other than you. Or was it me? No, yeah I didn't need anything else other than me, myself and I; to be full, to be whole. A full heart, a longing for myself surmised into the depths of laughter and lightweight fortitude towards something that was tender and small yet big and enveloping in the most awful way. Blinded, deceased sense of love and breathe. The same story, the same words. When will I ever cease the running away from all that is a part of me. I look into the mirror and only see what I want to see. I only see what I've been looking at since I recognized my face. But what about the reality? It is two dimensional, that damn mirror. You see only what you choose to see and only what you choose to believe. But when that veil is lifted, when that shadow is looming, it is interesting. No longer am I scared, no longer am I afraid of the parts of me that are less than lovely. The sad, the angry, the arrogant and loathing blackest parts of me. The blackened wood seethed from the tip of the flame, it emitted a lovely aroma of death and life. It swirled in the air and into my body. I was lifted, I was held up in the strongest arms. It was not hard, it was easy. It was easy to burn me. To burn my self, my thoughts, my cares, my worries. It is easy to burn in flames. Death is beautiful. Death is life. Death is eternal. I am dying and as are you. We will strive to live and continue forth with trying to keep alive something that is withering and dying. How do you keep it alive? Is there such a thing? Or we will rejoice in the death of our old selves and allow something else to grow. Allow the energy to surpass a new way of life. A new way of breathing, of seeing. Forget all that you know, forget all that you grew up with. It is dead, that is dead, that person is dead. Are you going to continue living as a zombie with all these memories? Or will you rise from the ashes and begin anew, like the Phoenix in the depth of the darkness. Bright, red, fiery, and passionate. I love death and will allow it wash over me and cleanse me as the smoke clears and the water pours down from the sky to nourish me and these new seeds.

Enveloped

There is something about the way you look at me. It makes me feel something. Like some lost fire that got buried over the years with ash; dead and dried up wood. I thought I had left this place years ago; only to find myself back here again. As if nothing changed and nothing ever happened. I can't let go now because you have burned me into your head. I feel the pull and I come. I hear the waves and I turn with each day. I am here; I am breathing. I need nothing more than my heart to pump blood to my parts. My skeleton aches with each breath I hold in. My skeleton breaks with each moment I forget. I am lost in space and time has told me to slow down. To wave a gentle breeze and come back to me darling. The moon is aglow up above the mountain tops. During the day, the blue contrast makes my heart jump. I need this Earth; maybe more than she needs me.
I am dusted and old as if lost in ancestral identity. I forgot how lovely it feels to be free and in love. My dirty hands try to wipe my face clean; only to reveal that I am dead again, in the tracks of what I thought was meant to be. I caved; I crashed. Again and again. My lungs grasped and fought for everything I thought I didn't have. I thought, I cried, I wasted it all with one last goodbye. How dare I think that I can win some more cheese; to win another cup full of this fleeting memory. I am done; I am gone. I am found and then I am lost. And just as the Moon hides her light in the darkest hour; I stand with her and know that we will live to see another starry sky. Whether it be holding one another or apart; I love you forever & forget you not.