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It's not like you did it, why should the guilt or punishment be passed on from one generation to the next? You didn't kill someone, so why should you have to plead for forgiveness?
It's just one of the many curses that have thrown us all into a constant and eternal discord. No universal peace, but there are systems of love that do not all connect with one another. It's sad that way, it's exclusive that way.
It's rules and games. Winners and losers. Everyone wants to be the winner, it's the curse. It's the binding that gifts and chokes.
He took my damned place. It should have been me acting as a stool for one seating, but its over. I'll dwell for a while, for too long, and then hope the fires of comets and asteroids shatter the horizon.
I wasn't share interest in living, but I shouldn't let it all go to waste. It was all a mistake, a good mistake. One that left a deep cut into the heart, reaching the true abyss of feeling.
It's just an emotional response of jealousy and that shitty taste in your mouth. It's not like emotion can kill you, right?
A good history of violence lacks existence and it is up to I to give it a host of blood and sweat.
Myself, Johnathan, released a fresh soul just minutes prior to the words. I don't feel lost, I actually feel founded and embraced by nothing more than a simple realization: I am taboo. I am the mystic and the manic.
The child could not save itself, but I have saved it. Saved it from being here in this dreaded place; being captive to this world we treat as a baby and a enraged landfill. I am savior and more.
He held the baby above his head and over the kingdom for all to see.
"This is your new found glory!" he profoundly yelled, "this is your new crown and your new catalyst into the great abyss!"
The baby cried and drowned her eyes in tears. She wanted Gaia to hold her and feed her, comforted by the warm beating of her heart within her chest.
It was written that every sentient thing is born into original sin, but she was not. She is of gods and of goddesses.
A hybrid of many seeds, Aurelia will rule the new kingdom.
Everyday and the new hours it brings, things can become stranger than fiction.
Everyday, someone can slip up and take all the real away.
Everyday, we can feel the outlook slip little by little beneath the floors and rugs into a core of molten heart.
Everyday and before it becomes tomorrow, the shadows constantly give its way.
Everyday, the love that finds us is pulled from the skin and given to foreign flesh.
Everyday, dead inside or out, the memories of loved ones will stay.
Everyday and the games we play, we suffer, winners and losers, trying not to complain.
The flowers bloom and all the constant eyes, they blink, searching for all in the wondrous bliss that is the field of dreams and fantasies.
Of course, there is nothing without a shadow, but we will skip it. Ignore it. Keep things untainted. The last thing we desire is to fall into even the shallowest pit.
Optimism, my friends, is the way to bliss. With it, you'll always feel like your there. There is always a bright side, its up to us to ignore the darkest side.
Too bad some of us see the bees in those flowers, hating it.
Will I really find what I've always been looking for at the end of the road? Hell, it might not be "what", but "who". Once more, death and romance brought together again.
No, I might not be looking for a "who", but it wouldn't be surprising to find myself in the afterlife standing in front of a relative or crush, whether they are dead or not. Does it matter? Isn't time time irrelevant in the afterlife?
Dreams don't come true here, so there is some hope that the next world has them. Dreams are at the end of my road.
, what a terrible name for a dog. No, he was not a
, he was called Maze. Maze because he was always lost and he couldn't find an exit to the real world.
Maze wondered the streets, alone, mainly because he was not the most attractive dog who only bathed with sprinklers on people's lawns. They didn't like that.
Nobody liked him, but nobody really knew him. No one but a fellow exile would pet him. They were both alone no longer and they became best of friends.
It's just what Maze wanted. Finally he felt welcomed and found.
Underneath the red sky before the stars shined in a night of blue, she stared in wonder. The thought kept crossing her mind,
there is something out there that is hurt and I just may be the cause of it.
It was the constant fear that nibbled in the background, that in someway she had ruined the world. One person, alone, can bring upon the apocalypse. She wondered more,
does everyone have connection to all those faults and dreadful fates?
Knowing wouldn't help and thinking about it prolonged a happier mentality.
Am I in control? Or am I a pawn?
Time's up and still we never seize to embrace these negative personalities. It is bothersome to know that not everyone strives for a positive world and only an incentive for themselves.
Buildings, bridges, and streets are constantly thrown into strides of crime without punishment. The girl down the street can't afford to feed himself while the man up the street can't manage to purchase enough diamonds.
Self-preservation is not the reason for this, it's self-accumulation. It all comes back to us, sentient beings whom not all are granted the desire to succeed for others.
Save us from ourselves.
Love thy neighbor.
You offer the protection of him and protection should be offered in return. Building friends block by block who happen to be just a fence away will prevent the barriers of loneliness or social deterioration.
Help thy neighbor.
Their personality should be positive. If not, why the hell not help them out? Cure them of negativity, try to convince them of the good aspects, admire the little things. Offer the presence to them. Act as an ear for them to talk into.
Know thy neighbor.
To remain ambiguous of thy neighbor can be harmful.
Love thy neighbor.
I shook his hand and he shook mine. There was a great presence of common wealth between us. We had shared the same friends, the same family, the same rewards, the same lovers.
Keeping composure, we collected the lost, free vagabonds. Others collapsing in shock and drying relentlessness eyes, we both sympathized.
"It isn't the end of the trail for them, they should know."
"Yes. Some of them, they have faith in that conclusion, but they do not grasp it as knowing."
The only ones who truly understand are six feet under, more or less.
We reapers, him and me.
What do you mean by "he never did understand"?
I told him time after time, but he wouldn't believe me. They were walking. He was in China and he didn't care that the dead were walking right in our backyard! Because he didn't believe me?
In your backyard?
Yeah! Children and parents from years ago were walking into my screen door, getting their blood all over it! I nearly fainted!
How did you handle it?
What do you think? I ran the hell away and here I am. Can I leave?
No. Death is a one way trip.
Damn the summer days that have come again. Could have been better, but at least some palm trees will burn into the breeze and hearts will scorch in the sand.
Preferring the winter, this is somewhat tolerable. Especially with what changes are to come, I sure hope one of those moments will finally come along and pressure my mind into a foreign soil.
Let your hair fly, Miss Invisible, no ones watching because no one knows of such a spectrum. The radiance is unwavering and it plagues the summer noon.
Awkwardness barely avoided, out of the sunlight is the haven.
Levees holding against the bordering waters, barely saving an inch from those relentless tides. Giving in and abandoning faith, those levees played passive and gave way.
Our lives swept away but not necessarily clean. Disorganization and an impacting discord reigned immediately on everyone in the vicinity of them waves that tore our children from us.
Love thy Earth, but respect for it is commonly unfounded. Damn those levees, damn those broken levees. Waters washed blue to green to blood and brown with mud and lives and the foundation we relied on.
That's when the levees will break. They will break.
Half-way point. Breach then clear for another thirty if we're lucky. Times of so many papers and pencils are gone, now it's the move on into the personal age.
Prep for the bigger moments of being on our own, but not necessarily alone. Some well deserved space is in unknown distance coming closer to desire if the number will reach high enough.
Celebration with great allies and even greater plans of the future that will one day fade to black. No worries of that day so soon and the hills burned with the scent of 2010 and child play.
On yellow, sits behind me a buzzed friend who is overly playful with joy. Just to the left of me is my great friend of sincerity and ahead of me is who was once the girl of dreams. The bus smells of post-adolescence and those facts that we may never see most of each other again.
It's a final night through the morning with the winds building a harsh dimension of regret and anxiety. I sure love this situation and I love these people even if I reserve some hate for them.
Tonight is a night of beautiful ambiguity.
The night is still quite young and it's all coming along on board above the current of shallow waters. Rhythm and voices bouncing from wall to wall as the city outside falls asleep into the twilight.
Awkward moments at the table, "I'm an anchor," I said. So I stood and left.
I feel the cold air come by as I witness the sleeping city on the top deck with children playing and feeding chairs into the blue ocean. Sight as beautiful as this was only set to be ruined by another beside, so down into the beating rhythms I go.
It is so enjoyable and depressing to be on the top deck with the wind and city, knowing that you're alone yet surrounded by those who have walked unknowingly by you for years.
It's good to have those few friends I love somewhere below me enjoying themselves with the sound of music or the company of a beautiful rose cuddling their side. They kiss, or dance, or gamble, but nonetheless enjoy.
We need no sails and our hearts could push the ship along with rushing veins and adrenaline shots throughout the body.
I suspect nonexistent whispering, my paranoia inflicting high.
Four in the morning and I haven't felt so tired in quite a while. An old friend to catch up with real quickly before hopping on a yellow bus. Even before that I was the awkward third wheel for a moment, but that passed.
You would think the bus would be quiet with snoring and slight whispers. It was certainly not, but it was obvious that there were those who were tired, and those who were rejuvenated. My sincere friend became one of those rejuvenated people.
Home sweet home has finally arrived and my thanks to those that surround me.
The realization of missing a great message from years prior to today is a painful reminder expressed in dreams and the relapse of a dormant desire.
A second tour of duty that just was never gritty in a way of blood but in a way of heart and mind that work together against your emotional state.
I tell myself, "how did I not see the signs? No regrets, right? Wrong. It's human to have regret, just like it's human to make mistakes."
It's human to make mistakes. It's human to learn from them as well. This one I surely did.
You won't really see the past in a way that you will always know it. You can surely smell the past, it links directly to memory.
A certain smell just gives life to a memory that has been dead for some time. I remember catching a scent six or so years ago and it lead me to a memory of elementary school.Something about smell, about every sense, that gives you a feeling of memory.
Nature works weird that way sometimes, so don't always see nature for what it it. When it's obvious, deeper meaning might be behind it.
Bare with me. That's a good struggle alone.
Constantly being so self-conscious, there's a presence of fear in speaking in an outgoing tone. Maybe I'm a bit inactive. Maybe I'm a bit anonymous.
Maybe I'm condemned to anonymity. It's the new fame, maybe?
Question me and I can give answers. I can be a pretty good listener if anyone really gave me a good chance. It's only happened once so far in the past eighteen years.
I want to listen, but no one wants to speak. Everyone wants to keep it suppressed. People assume too much, that is dangerous.
He saw a child hanging onto a branch in the rushing river, deprived of hope and the granted of living. He began wading into the water when a young woman took him by the arm.
"You can't go in there! It's suicide!"
He looked her in the eyes, "Have no fear, for I may die. Whether I fail or not, I do not fear what happens."
"You're mad! You cannot go-"
"You don't understand. Death here is another step. Now I must save this child."
"If death is nothing, why attempt to save him."
"He hasn't enjoyed life enough yet."
He had his fun with him years ago; shoving him to the ground, spitting on him like an insect, and taunting him with words of distaste. He who bullied, made mistakes.
He waits around the corner outside of the locker room, waiting to make his move. This bully was going to receive a great teaching.
Here he came, with his friends at his side cursing and profaning. The next thing the teen knew, his sight was blackened by the sharpening of a rock.
The victim gouged his eyes and repeatedly as the friends fell to the ground in shock. Just?
Its the choice between a rich friend of the employers who suffered a heart attack and the random runner who had collapsed with empty lungs.
Black-listed. The rich friend died. Didn't get enough attention but was confidently recovering only to die. The runner lived, but who really cares?
Employers have thrown you in exile. No one is taking you now, leaving you in a world so cold with depression and rising debt.
Bomb to the chest? Shotgun in the jacket?
Payback over being screwed over by the "higher power"? A teaching through violence is blitzkrieg on the human mind.
The angel descended from the heavens into the inhabited alley where Leo peacefully slept. The angel's soft feet touched the ground and its form was at last human and painfully beautiful.
He popped up, "Wha'! Wha' yoo wan'?"
"You seem alone."
The angel smiled, "Today's your lucky day."
He was given wings in a single orb of energy transferred from between the angel's breasts and into his chest. The wings extended from his back and they took flight from the alley into a bright haven above.
He fell to Earth with a frozen heart. An overdose victim.
Wounded by space and time, it was formed into the greatest crime. Life, the universe itself just didn't give way to equality. There is a balance, but it does not mean things are equal; if that makes any sense.
All tied down and struggling against atrophy in this constricted universe we know very little about. The discovery of new knowledge expands through the fourth dimension, but when will it actually be enough to take us elsewhere?
Letting go of what can never be know is living with that consistent ambiguity. That takes strength, to live with letting go that wonder.
The walls that a god never told me about again now surrounding and melting down the scenery I had known since I was just a boy, now fated to damnation!
The walls are invisible but so damned clear that even the popular idiocy itself should know of its existence. Aspect is,
they are the walls
Human idiocy and false judgment has been the downfall since the first time we ever able to develop a thought. A race to the bottom that we like to think isn't happening, all because of misunderstanding.
Its all just a misunderstanding. Damn, we are
Generalizing is dangerous
It's the only statement of generalizing that is absolutely and infinitely true. It's a core of racism and hatred.
Even though dangerous, it can be a truth.
Many people are just plagued with idiocy
You ask yourself, "Why can't people live in peace?" The reason is so obvious; because we
Stupidity and we the human race walk hand in hand so intimately, it's eery.
Stupidity leads to misunderstanding, misunderstanding leads to conflict, conflict is war.
We all know our own perception of reality and we embed it inside as truth.
So, let's have a war.
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