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these are the things that break my heart

I Am Life

"It is life that is the reality and the mystery. Life is vastly different from mere chemic matter fluxing in high modes of notion. Life is the thread of fire that persists through all the modes of matter. I know. I am life. I have lived ten thousand generations. I have lived millions of years. I have possessed many bodies. I, the possessor of these many bodies, have persisted. I am life. I am the unquenched spark ever flashing and astonishing the face of time, ever working my will and wreaking my passion on the cloddy aggregates of matter, called bodies, which I have transiently inhabited.

For look you. This finger of mine, so quick with sensation, so subtle to feel, so delicate in its multifarious dexterities, so firm and strong to crook and bend or stiffen by means of cunning leverages--this finger is not I. Cut it off. I live. The body is mutilated. I am not mutilated. The spirit that is I is whole.

Very well. Cut off all my fingers. I am I. The spirit is entire. Cut off both hands. Cut off both arms at the shoulder-sockets. Cut off both legs at the hip-sockets. And I, the unconquerable and indestructible I, survive. Am I any the less for these mutilations, for the subtractions of the flesh? Certainly not. Clip my hair. Shave from me with sharp razors my lips, my nose, my ears--ay, and tear to the eyes of me by the roots; and there, mewed in that featureless skull that is attached to a hacked and mangled torso, there in that cell of the chemic flesh, will still be I, unmutilated, undiminished.

Oh, the heart still beats. Very well. Cut out the heart, or, better, fling the flesh-remnant into a machine of a thousand blades and make mincemeat of it--and I, I, don't you understand, all the spirit and the mystery and the vital fire and life of me, am off and away. I have not perished. Only the body has perished, and the body is not I."

Jack London, "The Star Rover."

replace the word God with Universe
now you believe in God (the Universe)
and now you're doing the Godly things (Universal things)
so much, all the time

now what

relax and try to concentrate
remember those hills? focus on the un-visible patterns
and undulate

why cant adults use their imaginations?
and is this a problem

back up in that bacchanalia
discern without deciding
delineate from within the withered
revealed: a flaccid complex i just dont have time for right now

recidivist bitch, recalcitrant cunt
the source of rage is the inability to/lack of control
there has to be a rule
if there isnt one, make on up
there has to be a better way.

on your way up
dont forget me
etch my likeness onto the foot of your dull grave
carve a stick figure caricature of me into your costco coffin
and just
relax

So many times I couldnt see the good in this wonderful world
its shameful to admit
but theres today, and tomorrow
and thats not just something. its everything

whatever you deserve, its yours without exception

One day this will all make sense
and we will collapse and weep at the absolute and ultimate beauty of it all

but for now, were all confined to scanning a finite space
thinking one thought at a time
not knowing each other
a test for souls like ours, but not an impossible one

have faith and hope for the best

thats all you can really do in bodies with minds
but its not so bad
if you dont forget to look for the good

an Adult

Can you imagine
ive always been myself

Is it any wonder
its always the same, but different

for as much as youve loved
you will have lost

this was always part of the deal

a simple fact
accept it & dont be bitter

nobody likes a quitter

am i vibrating?

ive swam before
ive stood underneath the sun and roared
and ive sworn id never give up again
but i was young
and didnt understand
that as you age, things just keep getting taken from you
and taken
until theres nothing left

Access Your Soul
and melt this shitty world
Join me in the realm of the Real
Detach via unselfishness
It's so clean here, can you imagine

I'm not my body and neither are you and thats why I love you so much.

Who could love a body? What a way to go. Lusting after abdomens and thoraxes. You goon. There's so much more to spoon.

Disengage from your appetite and fast

18/f/ca

keep leaving, again
And again

always returning, expanding
cake batter taste, like its bad for you--i know
raw eggs, salmonella. ill touch a lizard anyway
i dont care about feeling bad

its easy to miss things, to long for people, but thats not the point
that sense of emptiness, of loss, its some Thing trying to communicate with you
a little probe, reminding you to find something
but that something isnt necessarily, no its probably not at all what you think you miss
what kind of guilt do you avoid the most? start there
that's the 'x'
its easy to be afraid of yourself and its easy to make a sweetheart's deal with your ego and just avoid the pain of any given thing.

its easy to atrophy and its easy to die.

but i dont want to die. i want to live and now i know how. i want to thrive and grow and sprout these Amazing Physical Wings, and i want to just Be and try so hard. And i want to be everything i used to dream i wanted to be this very instant and each consecutive instant, moment after ever crucial moment, being mindful of this thing i have and to which i belong.

to pursue a certain sense of calm rage, an inextinguishable Passion--one i can control or choose not to. a light that never goes out, a tiny tornado i keep in my closet and let out when its been on its best behavior

im not my body and i dont want to be. ive a got a soul God dammit and ive never been this real.

And again