Never Betray the Way You've Always Known it Is...
- izeveryboyin
- Posts: 1112
- Joined: August 30th, 2004, 2:18 pm
- Location: Chicago
- Contact:
Never Betray the Way You've Always Known it Is...
“You are so alive that it might be unbearable, at times.”
Most times... most times it is simply nauseating. In the wake of the rain, the hesitant sway of the trees with the force of the wind’s woeful howl, we are desperate for a way out. Where once there was no rain, now there is an abundance... an angry one at that, trying to make for all the time lost… all the earth and plants left unquenched. But now it’s too late. Leaves are browning and orange-ing and red-ing all around me, trees are left bare and scowling, plagued with the notion that all over again, their branches heavily laden with snow, they will have to brave the biting cold… the uneasy force of a Chicago winter, the frost and the lack of sun… all serving as reminders that we have no control over this life... that we are all prisoners to nature, and life... that there is no hope of us ever overcoming this reality. Maybe this is the real reason for pollution. Maybe subconsciously, we are like the evil, scorned lover, kicking our other halves while they sleep, much too afraid to do it while he or she is at full attention. So a puff of smoke here, some industrial waste there... that’ll square us away. Who are these Greenpeace idiots warning us to love our world? When has it ever been ours? Who was the moron who told them that? We are at the mercy of the elements, clawing our way out from under mountains of snow, or debris form tornadoes, hands water-logged from hurricanes. Who is abusing whom? Surely, we deserve to get a lick in? Most times... most time it is simply nauseating. I want to free myself. I feel trapped. But how do you escape some strange, tragic fate, locking you underneath your own instability, simply because you cannot identify where the trouble is coming from? How does one escape what one is not sure one is trapped within? Does one escape? And why even are we so keen on the very idea of escape itself? Whoever said that being set free was the best option? How the fuck do we expect to handle ourselves alone? Inside this mind is a sleuth of nightmares, of frightening things... memories, fears. Inside this mind is my own self-destruction, building itself up and waiting for the moment when I am emotionally weakest to strike, and fall upon me, forcing me into a sordid kind of catatonic despair, unable to move or speak... just moaning with the agony of too much life and experience. Then maybe foolishly, I’ll cry out for help and wait for someone to hear me. Then inevitably, no one will, and I will be stuck here, enslaved within myself forever, though not quite sure if I am, and therefore, moronically, unable to find a way out. Jesus.
Most times... most times it is simply nauseating. In the wake of the rain, the hesitant sway of the trees with the force of the wind’s woeful howl, we are desperate for a way out. Where once there was no rain, now there is an abundance... an angry one at that, trying to make for all the time lost… all the earth and plants left unquenched. But now it’s too late. Leaves are browning and orange-ing and red-ing all around me, trees are left bare and scowling, plagued with the notion that all over again, their branches heavily laden with snow, they will have to brave the biting cold… the uneasy force of a Chicago winter, the frost and the lack of sun… all serving as reminders that we have no control over this life... that we are all prisoners to nature, and life... that there is no hope of us ever overcoming this reality. Maybe this is the real reason for pollution. Maybe subconsciously, we are like the evil, scorned lover, kicking our other halves while they sleep, much too afraid to do it while he or she is at full attention. So a puff of smoke here, some industrial waste there... that’ll square us away. Who are these Greenpeace idiots warning us to love our world? When has it ever been ours? Who was the moron who told them that? We are at the mercy of the elements, clawing our way out from under mountains of snow, or debris form tornadoes, hands water-logged from hurricanes. Who is abusing whom? Surely, we deserve to get a lick in? Most times... most time it is simply nauseating. I want to free myself. I feel trapped. But how do you escape some strange, tragic fate, locking you underneath your own instability, simply because you cannot identify where the trouble is coming from? How does one escape what one is not sure one is trapped within? Does one escape? And why even are we so keen on the very idea of escape itself? Whoever said that being set free was the best option? How the fuck do we expect to handle ourselves alone? Inside this mind is a sleuth of nightmares, of frightening things... memories, fears. Inside this mind is my own self-destruction, building itself up and waiting for the moment when I am emotionally weakest to strike, and fall upon me, forcing me into a sordid kind of catatonic despair, unable to move or speak... just moaning with the agony of too much life and experience. Then maybe foolishly, I’ll cry out for help and wait for someone to hear me. Then inevitably, no one will, and I will be stuck here, enslaved within myself forever, though not quite sure if I am, and therefore, moronically, unable to find a way out. Jesus.
sometimes I just like to breathe.
www.technicolorfraud.blogspot.com
www.technicolorfraud.blogspot.com
- Lightning Rod
- Posts: 5211
- Joined: August 15th, 2004, 6:57 pm
- Location: between my ears
- Contact:
- izeveryboyin
- Posts: 1112
- Joined: August 30th, 2004, 2:18 pm
- Location: Chicago
- Contact:
LRod... nothing gives me a greater pleasure than to have you grace my threads with your compliments... much appreciated. You may have my bounty, that is assuming you can find it.
Mnaz... the season of death blues is a contagious sonuva bitch that plagues our doorsteps like a fiend, waiting for the one day when we come out all sunny and starry-eyed, so that it can swoop down ,the beast it is, to mar our souls and consume our hearts. IT has me just now.
Dixie... eh... thanks.
Mtmynd... I'm not at all sure I can get out of my own head... I've gotten lost somewhere near the frontal lobe, and can't quite find the way out. Thanks for enjoying my expression (and the pics... all of which I shot myself, the last two from the "L" train, and the first is a little barren spot right near my old house.) no, unfortuanly I don't know of him. But you can call me kayla... or izzy, like ST and Doreen does.
Mnaz... the season of death blues is a contagious sonuva bitch that plagues our doorsteps like a fiend, waiting for the one day when we come out all sunny and starry-eyed, so that it can swoop down ,the beast it is, to mar our souls and consume our hearts. IT has me just now.
Dixie... eh... thanks.
Mtmynd... I'm not at all sure I can get out of my own head... I've gotten lost somewhere near the frontal lobe, and can't quite find the way out. Thanks for enjoying my expression (and the pics... all of which I shot myself, the last two from the "L" train, and the first is a little barren spot right near my old house.) no, unfortuanly I don't know of him. But you can call me kayla... or izzy, like ST and Doreen does.
sometimes I just like to breathe.
www.technicolorfraud.blogspot.com
www.technicolorfraud.blogspot.com
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
Counting down on year sixty five. Fall arives in south texas. Leaves begin to fall, finally. Looking beyond winter to spring. Can I, will I live to see it? Every year now I think the same thought. It has been a sweet year of life for me. And I ask for just one more spring thaw. I am never satisfied. I always want one more season. My exit sign shines so bright. So easy to find my way out. I turn my back to death, but I know he is gaining on me. Maybe next year, maybe tomorrow, or today. Life and death, is there an equilibrium at birth? My fate in the hands of a Savage God.just moaning with the agony of too much life
"I don;t know how to die." my old friend said on his death bed. His wife of sixty years was gone, he could not carry on without her.
Chicago winters burrrrrrrrrrrrr
rambling jack
Last edited by stilltrucking on October 26th, 2005, 1:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Enjoyed reading and relating to this Izzy.....
I must say that autumn holds alot of resolve and comfort for me. The juicy letting go of the leaves into beds for hibernation. I love to lie in them under the mother trees, it feels so peaceful and quiet, so hopeful.......
Some folks tell me I'm crazy for doing it, that i've lost control.
Indeed, that's the point.
The slate cleans itself, for new growth, and just maybe, another spin on things.....
Very rich piece here....
H
I must say that autumn holds alot of resolve and comfort for me. The juicy letting go of the leaves into beds for hibernation. I love to lie in them under the mother trees, it feels so peaceful and quiet, so hopeful.......
Some folks tell me I'm crazy for doing it, that i've lost control.
Indeed, that's the point.
The slate cleans itself, for new growth, and just maybe, another spin on things.....
Very rich piece here....
H
- izeveryboyin
- Posts: 1112
- Joined: August 30th, 2004, 2:18 pm
- Location: Chicago
- Contact:
Iam so confused about the beautyof autumn... everything dies.. but everything gets reborn... clean slate, like you said... but what if it needn't be reborn... what if the whole point of existense is to fix the shit that's broken not by starting over, but by picking up what's left of the forlorn pieces.
St... what does it feel like... to see the exit sign? Does it hurt... does it burn the eyes? Can you feel it in your pants when you make love to a woman... when you make love to yourself? Can you FEEL it at all?
--k
St... what does it feel like... to see the exit sign? Does it hurt... does it burn the eyes? Can you feel it in your pants when you make love to a woman... when you make love to yourself? Can you FEEL it at all?
--k
sometimes I just like to breathe.
www.technicolorfraud.blogspot.com
www.technicolorfraud.blogspot.com
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
that exit sign says "no smoking"
love to a woman is the petite death, a moment of being out of time,
love to my self is a haiku
freud's breakfast
two over easy
passive sex a pain
I forgot to tell you that I was moved by your peace. I love the fall, images if being young and alive walking across a college campus the smell of burning leaves in the wind, life was shinny new and I was in love.
love to a woman is the petite death, a moment of being out of time,
love to my self is a haiku
freud's breakfast
two over easy
passive sex a pain
I forgot to tell you that I was moved by your peace. I love the fall, images if being young and alive walking across a college campus the smell of burning leaves in the wind, life was shinny new and I was in love.
- izeveryboyin
- Posts: 1112
- Joined: August 30th, 2004, 2:18 pm
- Location: Chicago
- Contact:
Life is always shiny and new when you're in love b/c you're to busy fucking to notice the grime on the walls, the film of filth marring every doorway, and the crumbling sidewalks... aching at your feet. The exit sign says no smoking b/c everyone else does. Conformists make more money.
--k
--k
sometimes I just like to breathe.
www.technicolorfraud.blogspot.com
www.technicolorfraud.blogspot.com
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 27 guests