The thing that makes me hopeful for this generation is that we are all driven by passion. No more are we forced to succumb to societal pressures in our life choices and we strive to do what we want to do, and what we love to do. We’re finally doing what we want with our lives. And that makes me hopeful.
I really like the feeling of looking over what I’ve been able to produce. The feeling of hard work paying off is the definition of satisfaction I suppose, so here’s to yet another redundant post.
the words on the page
are contradictions describing contradictions
meaningless symbols portraying thoughts
getting lost and applying meaning
to whatever we’re struggling to deal with ourselves.
reality is that picture
you have on your dresser.
That beautiful bordered portrait of something real,
that you knew, that you felt in your beautiful bones.
that’s all we’ll ever want,
out of all we’ll ever do.
Embodied cliches are disappointingly breathtaking. It sucks how much rustling winds are able to effect me. The life of a romantic is entirely too trivial to handle.
I like to think about the night. About the darkness. About all those that are lonely, out there experiencing that same feeling of remorse for past experiences and decisions they’ve made that have haunted them. I yearn to haunt those that yearn haunting. I want to speak to those that are unable to define the emotions and feelings they want to read. I want to want feeling and yearn yearning. I have nothing to offer this world but a cold reflection of what it truly is in an honest description. I hate what I am and what I’ve become, yet I seek to progress as we all do. I want to grow and develop into the more vindictive and violent description of reality that is incomprehensible to most yet definable and approachable to all. This is what I need, and I hate myself for it. The cool embrace of a warm cigarette is comforting to those unable to express what they truly feel, and are too broken to find the place within them to clean up after themselves. I need to find a clean medium to portray the whisperings in the wind only I am able to hear. The buzzing of inebriation opens us up to greater reflection end possibility the conscious mind cannot possess. That’s enough for tonight. Enjoy the moment. Looking out onto a limited scape… Is truly the possession of a limited spirit. One must be capable of imagining an infinite portrait of a limited world which we all exist within. Life becomes more bitter the more we near the end, and we must fight that bitterness with all the strength we have within us. Good night and good luck.
Life is delicate and angry and blistering and genuine if you allow it to happen through you. Life is the heart and the soul melting together in a series of events that challenges, provokes and breaks us down. Life is yearning regret and wistful pessimism wrapped in contradiction. Life is power and weakness coinciding in something so much larger than we can comprehend. Life is love, and we should say it more often.
It’s a truly blissful feeling to be completely immune to what’s happening around you. To be able to see the mouths of strangers move and not be able to nor want to in any sense hear whatever mundane ideas they’re sloppily throwing around to one another is absolutely lovely. You can sit back and smile and relax within the comforts of your own head without trying to carefully sift through ignorant perceptions of what you’re trying to say. This bitterness is telling me that I need change and I think I’m ready for it. The fuse is burning and it’s just a matter of time.
I’ve been playing this on repeat for the past few days and thought I’d share. Give it a listen. I mean, why not?