06.23.2019 ink&rage excerpt.
I light a cigarette in rage
furrow my brow and
take a drag of distain.
Distain for the ever
enduringly underwhelming things.
The disgust of mis-projection and rejection.
Rejection of the masses and the majority
Which have condemned me for the longer,
harder road ahead.
We are not made to settle.
I sat up avoiding my dorm room once again,
resolved not to sleep until the wee hours.
A new theme, as it is impossible to sleep in a room full of strangers,
all stacked on top of each other,
highlighting the lack of privacy in our modern day lives.
A flimsy wall doesn’t change the fact it just creates an illusion at an escalated price.
---DO NOT DISTURB---
Everyone tucked under the covers.
Sleeping at the same time, sleeping together.
A bunch of dignified whores.
This is civilization.
06.18.2019. ink&rage excerpt.
I. Can’t. Stay. Still.
Too tame here.
FIGHTING BOREDOM. Life’s great unsolvable challenge.
Chillin’ z only fun if somethin’ z hot first. 22:22
Nothing can distract me from my freedom.
I still don’t know.
Why I think…
Why I think,
Why I think.
I feel it but I don’t. 222
Maybe reality cannot quench what the unknown can stimulate.
Woke up with the same irksome thought,
floating around my uncategorized brain.
This grey spot in the midst of where everything else is black and white.
Except for this grey spot thought.
Only thing that matters is what is.
We’re flawed and quick to condemn what we can’t forgive in ourselves.
In so many ways, it’s easier to
Be condemned than accepted.
06.16.2019 ink&rage excerpt
The artist who doesn’t believe in magic is not able to produce
their truest work.
The people who don’t believe in magic, have yet to remember themselves--
And therefore yet to truly see others.
To be an artist is to be a romantic
And to be a romantic
is to believe in magic.
It makes romantics and cynics alike.
06.13.2019 ink&rage excerpt.
What’s the saying?
“find what you love and let it kill you?"
well, my art seemed to be simultaneously sustaining and killing me. I felt consumed by it. with pure love and grotesque resentment.
Being driven mad by it, as we only are by things we truly love.
Can’t quit. Can’t give up. At all costs--- I come back to it.
Reduced to the degrading for it,
And crawling back to it. day and night.
Like a sickness.
Like an addiction. Infected, as I struggled to detach.
Exhilarated and exhausted by it.
try to form it—but the pen in my hand takes the lead.
Flowing through my blood,
Turned to ink on the page.
Only slowed by my feeble human form.
Art in my soul,
My life source,
No choice but to keep it alive at all costs.
06.12.2019. ink&rage except
It was barely 9pm but I felt drunk as fuck
and wide awake.
Wide awake as myself.
So unsure of what he already knows,
so unsure of himself.
If only he would let his self-judgment go…
We’re free when we let ourselves be our whole selves and learn to accept even the parts we judge as wrong.
We love when we forgive and accept
ourselves and others who remind us of who we’ve been.
We find home in ourselves
and let go of what was,
accepting what is and all we are.
We are in harmony.
Put in the face of someone who is meant to teach us a lesson we need to learn to enter our next chapter.
He is so unsure of himself. Questioning what he already knows. Unsure of what he has yet to admit.
I’m the mirror.
The mirror you face to claim and choose some part of yourself you’ve denied.
Admit to live.
Admit to love.
All you need to know is that you’re not doing anything wrong.
We want people to love us because people are so beautiful when they love us.
We are flawed and striving
for our own kind of perfection.
When someone smiles upon us with that approval of all we are, we love them== because of what they see in us.
Them seeing it,
makes it true somehow.
Life seems to be learning to love --
I’d never loved true until I met you… that’s the fairytale, isn’t it?
The feeling we’re craving? What we’re really after in this life is love.
I walked into the dead night,
lighting a cigarette,
stumbling my drunk-ass home.
Taking shallow drags, not really in my mood to smoke, as I was to contemplate. Contemplate life.
I was going on another day with no sleep.
No matter, who can sleep in these conditions?
When their mind is being spun like a plate.
06.11.2019. ink&rage excerpt.
You had no idea how good you had it.
Everyone stays just long enough to wind me up
Before they ditch.
And you immediately feel like you’re stewing in day old resentment.
The stupidest emotion--
A pure waste of emotion--
With a stale taste on your tongue.
Drifting, drifting in oblivion.
My reality seems more reliable than this wonky crap--
People drifting around, half awake,
Smiling at destruction swept under the rug.
House of the dead.
It always seems the case
When your realities don’t connect.
Everyone takes their own truth so seriously.
Everyone takes their own truth as fact.
There is no fact.
There’s opinions, perspectives, and a consensus with certain thing that the power players agreed upon as fact.
People love their boundaries.
People love their rules,
They think limitation keeps them grounded.
The people are so frantic to be secure and grounded.
As if they will float away like a balloon in the sky and be lost from all sense.
No, fools—you’ll be elevated.
You may kiss enlightenment, if you’re lucky.
Then drift on down to the damaged earth, with a little magic in your pocket
And the taste of higher consciousness on your lips.
06.08.2019. ink&rage excerpt
"ROLL A CIGARETTE WITH ONE HAND LIKE THE BUM I AM..." -BUKOWSKI
On some park bench,
another park bench,
thinking over the trail of my life.
the past is gone,
the past means shit.
Hope your kids don't end up like me.
I don't regret my life,
but i wouldn't recommend it.
People are better off not asking why.
operation left over high...
People drive by~~~
WHERE'S THE BREAK???
Living on less.
Surviving on less.
Add some music. Makes life less ache.
Smoking in the park like the bum i am... "bum" is a societal term. Nothing else.
leave no trace,
what a waste.
Hide your marks where you can.
Hidden, cause the rules aren't always right.
Hiding in plain sight.
You've got to fight for your elbowroom. Carve yourself out a little space.