what does one do when all hope is gone?
he cries?
no. that's a plea for help. there is no hope for help anymore
there's only dissociation.
thus, he does not cry.
he sees
only darkness,
and light is an aggressor,
violence commited upon his retinas.
how dares there be light.
but it's not goodness. only accusations.
and no one wants to listen.
they only want to see him cry.
cry us money.
he feels cold?
no. he feels nothing. there's no mind to be paid
in the resigned home he became.
his spirit died.
his body will soon follow suit.
somewhere along the ride
and he doesn't even know when
he lost all the fire.
cold marble is all that's left.
wrapped up in dissociation, an empty shell.
his body wants no pain,
no pleasure anymore.
it doesn't even want to cry.
-
he thinks,
and maybe he's right,
no one will hear him,
no one will come
to Actually Help.
instead of to put him in psych ward.
he feels lost.
alone.
meaningless.
he feels nothing. all that is hidden under layers of
ice.
tears are not welcome here. they're warm.
thus, his body resists even the tiniest cry.
the only motions
that make any sense
is step after step
that'll take him into the grave.
into Slumber. Oblivion.
he doesn't let crying be his lullaby.
it's all gone.
tears have no value, it's just water with salt.
he doesn't cry.
only his heart is still beating,
scared/excited to die.
.
.
.
Rymowanie brzmi fajnie, ale przeczy szczerości. Bo szukasz rymu; ograniczasz nim ekspresję. Na co to. Tylko żeby ładnie było? Jaka wartość piękna, jeśli jest puste?Przynajmniej w angielskim łatwiej w rymowanie. Tyle tylko że mój angielski to jeszcze młodziak.
Wyedytowane opowiadania, w których chwalimy się najlepszymi dniami. Bojąc się rozmawiać szczerze
o tych najgorszych.
Dlaczego? Bo chcemy rozwiązania. Gdy nie ma natychmiastowej ulgi, cierpienie zmraża nas do szpiku. Boimy się niemocy.
Niemoc to prawo życia. We might as well start making friends with it.
Ten zbiór miał być pozytywny, ale nie da się być prawdziwie pozytywnym bez szczerości. Bo tak to plastik, trucizna.
It can never be perfect.
Dobra, kończę ten myślotok.
.
.
.
#17.01.2023
CZYTASZ
heart beats
Poetry~ poezje itp ~ w gruncie rzeczy, jesteśmy worami mięsa, kości, i flaków. ale w tym worze mieści się mózg, a mózg to wciąż niezbadana złożoność, która z prostego wora potrafi uczynić święty graal. the heart beats/heartbeats/heartbeat: serce bije, ser...
