~ 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...
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he's scared of the night
his breathing becomes shallow
his eyes are closed yet
his thoughts running amok
he's lost in the terrors
hiding behind a mask
scared they'll call him a pussy.
a monster. a freak. not one of us.
they'll laugh at his pain, real monsters.
think it's imagined, or a funny joke
you're a man - men don't fear.
so he fears feeling anything at all
but hopelessness.
it leaks out of rusty pipes
wailing, waking him from daydreaming
he keeps himself in check. he has to
or else they'll punish him for feeling
for fearing. for hurting. for needing love.
acceptance, a hug, some compassion
and a safe space where his monsters can become scars
from his lonely battles.
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we took humanity out of men's image of themselves
and so they've become cold, distant, and dissociated.
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napisany 21.7.24
narysowany 21.7.24, an expansion of an image drawn months ago.
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possible interpretation:
"demonic" eyes: inner "demons" that came from the unhealed pain, or, the society and his abusers barging into his world, telling him what he is and isn't allowed to be.
spikey tentacles: talked to with vice, his inner dialogue became abusive.
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may not be the last poem inspired by that drawing.
