breaking and shattering
are the things
done best
in a world where
the formed and molded
strive
and create.
Sunday, December 27, 2015
consistent
I sit here with a blanket over one shoulder and a digital screen looking back at me. There are crackers and water on my desk along with a blank canvas and paints to mix. The paint brushes look at me with a sense of loneliness. USB cords wander about the desktop. A computer mouse sits freely near the edge. And I stay, behind the screen, perpetually the user.
I am the scraps of a wrapper. The contents of me are inflated with advertisement. made up of the only thing a person can own, imagination. Even if that imagination is the essence of reality. I cover the substance that I advertise, but yet I still have no knowledge of what I am. Goldfish crackers I can relate to but people ...
Am I a broken mold of American society. People can relate, but can't empathize. Daily relations show me in a light foreign to my own perspective. I am nothing, yet when I am introduced I am something. I have no self sustaining mechanism. similar to first world power grids. i rely on a feeding of natural resources from my environment. yet i am told i am normal. so as humans, do we only feed. breaking the chain of predation to create the consumer.
i am tired.
of being.
yet i long for a sense of acceptance.
this conundrum is what creates my self awareness.
if i had the power i would ask humanity to take a step backward. to look at history. to look at consequence. to look at the essence of reality that they live in. and i would ask 'What for?' what do you do that for. what do you love for. what do you live for.
pondering these questions is a habit. chronologically i place each answer in order. from my own experience. and i realize the fruitless endeavor. that being searching for truth, when truth is subjective.
really, the only thing i want. what i want. is someone to share my perspective with. who doesn't hesitate to share back to mother perspective. aka a girlfriend.
I am the scraps of a wrapper. The contents of me are inflated with advertisement. made up of the only thing a person can own, imagination. Even if that imagination is the essence of reality. I cover the substance that I advertise, but yet I still have no knowledge of what I am. Goldfish crackers I can relate to but people ...
Am I a broken mold of American society. People can relate, but can't empathize. Daily relations show me in a light foreign to my own perspective. I am nothing, yet when I am introduced I am something. I have no self sustaining mechanism. similar to first world power grids. i rely on a feeding of natural resources from my environment. yet i am told i am normal. so as humans, do we only feed. breaking the chain of predation to create the consumer.
i am tired.
of being.
yet i long for a sense of acceptance.
this conundrum is what creates my self awareness.
if i had the power i would ask humanity to take a step backward. to look at history. to look at consequence. to look at the essence of reality that they live in. and i would ask 'What for?' what do you do that for. what do you love for. what do you live for.
pondering these questions is a habit. chronologically i place each answer in order. from my own experience. and i realize the fruitless endeavor. that being searching for truth, when truth is subjective.
really, the only thing i want. what i want. is someone to share my perspective with. who doesn't hesitate to share back to mother perspective. aka a girlfriend.
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