a thought.

Mankind is the ugliest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to lay my desperate eyes on. We have the capacity to destroy each other with no hesitation. But what really keeps me from chastising humanity is what follows. The remorse and guilt and pain and suffering. The emotional range that we’re allowed and are capable of feeling is gorgeous, and I won’t ever abandon that.

I am fully and completely in love with the human condition.

hollow feathers

words don't cut it anymore. i find myself always at a loss. and that makes me unbearably saddened. something so beautiful, so strong, and so genuine has now become something that i'm incapable of expressing. the patience of the outside world is limited and the inside world is utterly confining. a convention of unbearable feelings is left to take the place of once held emotions. left to swirl around the vacuum that Nothing calls home. but what does one do when feelings aren't able to be translated? what happens when your most familiar ability is broken into pieces and scattered around the blood stained floor? a now fleeting comprehension is cracked and old. and staring at a flashing cursor leaves me...helpless. helpless to my own condition and that of others. unable to express my unconditional need to accept and listen, i am the vacuum.
there are colors that meet in the middle. thoughts and theories and feelings all blend together in a gorgeous soliloquy of understanding, rocketing skyward to meet what we all know or have known at a single point. these colors are dripping of each other now. they are seeping through the walls and leaving me distraught, fragmented, and colorblind.

and so, having been locked into the eyes of an individual so trance-inducing, i dive headfirst and headstrong. hoping to break the surface and breathe in absolute clarity. the water i'm sure has other plans. regardless, i dive.

when it's late,

don't stop looking
when my eyes turn to glass.

Annie, I will make it.

hush.

this dark deafening emancipative loneliness is what i can frequently smell, but can never taste. the gates are lifted when the cratered moon takes its fluid path along the starry sky, and the freedom rushes through like a flood. in what was once occupied by only air molecules, emotion now drowns my heart. like an empty cup suddenly and unforeseeably being rushed with a synthetic juice.

something of a darker tint. something that resembles blood, but lacks that crucial and vital iron sensation that attaches to one's tongue. that pure human taste. it's unmistakable, and unforgettable.

lately i've been existing only for this taste and these dark shadowy hours. it is the only break i can find from the complexities and melancholic waves of day to day responsibilities and conversations. to pretend i exist for anything otherwise would be borderline slanderous.

and so in sunlight, emotional colorblindness sets in.

but beneath baptismal beams of moonlight...under the immense and unfathomable star stricken sky, my pupils dilate and primal instincts get flipped on.

awake. alive. placid. revived.

bullet proof.

I don't know how to start this. sitting, trapped in a corner. Surrounded. surrounded and suffocated by clouded and spotted glass. not the white spots from a shaken tooth brush or missed windex. but the spots from something long forsaken.

a glass coffin. 4 inches thick, as dry as the sand in this desert you call a reality. how terribly tempting it is to kick violently and scream in all directions in an attempt to shatter these walls. but I sit. I'm quiet. I breathe, and I exhale with no purpose or meaning.

but soon I'm not the only one flooding this cage. soon my feet are the first to meet this new visitor.
as the day lurches on and the bright radiant sun makes its pilgrimage across the clouded sky, the tank is swimming.
& I'm beginning to do the same.

not drowning, but sitting. quietly. breathing in, and exhaling.
all the while a cold and dark wave crawls over my spine, and creeps over my shoulders. wraps and surrounds me like a blanket. warm. secure.

and as the sun goes down, the tank is full. the tank is full, just like my lungs. this is the only certainty I've ever had. and I'm in this coffin.
I'm staying alive in the pitch black. eyes cascaded with nothing but personal thoughts, and spots on the glass.

and so I sit, quietly. breathing in and exhaling with no purpose.

boom.

it wasn't that i was incapable of understanding what it is that i am comprised of. it isn't that i was blinded from my wheels and mechanisms. i just had to sit and stare. breathe and balance. open and ostensibly let it seep out.

and so since saying simple things to weary eyed wanderers, my eyes have blasted open to become more aware of what your world has to convey to this dreamer. in step, epiphany has crept into my wrinkled thoughts and begun to emit beams of starch. flattening and developing thoughts of mine and your own.

with eyelids peeled open by an invisible & transcendent hunger to know, you and yourself create a whirlwind of some otherwise inglorious sight. an exquisite survey of a night sky painted and splattered across your conventional ceiling. billions of fiery detonations travel throughout your starry cosmos in a moment's blinding flash.

and this incandescent explosion of astronomical proportions is just...

butterflies.

just a thought.

I feel like I'm doing jumping jacks into a pitch black pool. Alternating from deep and warm enveloping air, to stinging and freezing water teeming with abandonment.