"stories" INCOMPREHENSION

3 •springs; summer, winter &autumn•

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Oh with what anguish i must speak about a past
And of an unfortunate departure from a blooming love
The insignificance is hardly felt
Because i was very so dragged, pulled, in all my efficacies to weep
I screamed at life
Called her a bitch
Spat on her
For offering me so much personal violence
The abuse was very much grotesque

For months I dreamed
For days I hid in the darkness
I had lost a world of prospects
The ones oh so close to my heart
Oh so far away
No hope of going back
And I would fear
Oh this foreign land
I still fear, the land, it grows

I look back with a minds eye at the minds paintings
They were so eloquent
Who knows, maybe my mind paints them that way. The mind. It always craves the past
Glorifies it at the very least
In a canvas, I see I walk on a paved path.
...
"hey man", said the best friend_no I wouldn't call anyone that, we were so much more. "what's up"? I replied. "what about your girl"? "what girl"? At that stage I would usually detest the idea that i had a hold on anyone's heart. "I'm sure I'm nothing to her". He would uproar in a disagreement. "Guy", "I'm sure you guys are something, you just never want to accept it".
"yeah men","whatever".
I'm sure you were right. But the picture of the love in those time were often dim-lit.
Fuck Love

I remember the nights we stayed up.
All the time we talked much.
When I'd sing songs.
Songs of my anguish
Songs that testify to the detestability of life

I was much expressive in those times
I hardly get angered
But if i did you'd feel it
I would scream at the top of a voice you knew so well had a solemnity to it
It is ever so frightening

And as i walked on the new pavement that life brought me
I would speak of such days so effusively
The people around me
The ones i am but forced to muse
What I write is meaningless unless I say they do not comprehend
Oh I
I so misunderstood
My shells very dull
I had been forced to seek refuge
With a weakness do the sparks in my mind flaunt

And you ask why do I

Express so little a confidence

Because I have been made to feel

The depths of unwantedness

And I must say that in such an air, you wince with every coming experience. You shed tears at every unfairness.
It calls for weeping with every atmosphere of urgency. Every reek of pandemonium.
I panic.

And so I seek solace in all these memories, all these paintings. It is at the very core of human nature that we grasp a hope that the future holds better by looking at the very past in which we were wrought.

I still call life a bitch.
_____
I am pushed forward with all this incomprehension
Oh well
They say grace is sufficient at the moment of effect.

•H-spirit•

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