Exisitence is Conditional... We're a buncha shits... etc.

[izeveryboyin]

There is no rain here. Only cold. Wind. Very little sun. 4pm begins to look bleak with the coming of the night. We wait. We smoke cigarettes. Things don't seem so bad until we get down to the butt end and remember it's all terrible. We go lie down in a cemetary, and await death amongst death. What more are we to do? I have two more journeys to make tonight before it's finished, and the day still leaves much to be desired. Will I make it home without having my head blown off in the street? Will someone rape me before I reach the door? Will there be blood in my hands? Walking past the garbage-ladden streets, the dank smell of booze, and blood and suffereing in my nose, I can feel the earth moving beneath my sneakers... crying... heaving, in fact. What's the matter with it? Who would be so bold as to scorn the Earth? Surely, the human race has more to say for itself than that. I cannot see too far ahead, because I am clouded with images of the past, constantly trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me, and getting nowhere. The minutes tick away like dying flower petals, and nobody notices. Bleak. Very bleak. I notice wrinkled old lines in the solemn faces of women and men. I notice how they cave into the face to carve their homes. "Notice me!" They cry. "I am the mark of life." Life is so confusing... so evil. It taunts us. From the moment we leave the womb we begin to die. Every birthday gets us one year closer to the inevitable. This whole vast world around us is just some bland distraction... one we have created for ourselves so that we can all start forgetting that one day... in that cemetary, we will no longer have to lie amongst death while we await it... we will be one of the dead. When does it end? Where? If when we were born, we were told exactly when, where and how we were going to die, we could presumably prevent it. We would therefore spend life not trying to forget about death, but to take all the necessary precautions to keep it from happening. I suppose we do this anyway, without even knowing the end. By putting a coat and a scarf on to brave the cold outside. By taking medicine... by loving someone. By carrying a knife on the walk home... taking a life to protect one. How do we justify that? Who's to say what life is more important than another? We were all born just the same... all from our mothers... whether through c-section, or naturally. We have the same features, whether they all work or not, whether they are different colors. Therefore, all on equal footing, who are we to say who shouldcother the fuss? Maybe I'm being bleak and overdramatic. Maybe I'm being too blunt and callous. Maybe I'm a lot of things, who the fuck knows? It's cold outside. There is no rain here, and my soul aches from love, sex, and blood-letting. I think it's time to take a rest.

[mnaz]

On the flip side, you are alive. You are so alive that it might be unbearable, at times.

[creativesoul]

perhaps the blood has a story
where we came from
to honor
where we are going
with each nerve, sensation, ion
the life force we want
to control
has been controling us all along
the heart is an involuntary muscle

[izeveryboyin]

You are so alive that it might be unbearable, at times.

Most times. Most times it is simply nauseating.

--k

[jimboloco]

a meditation on death, a tantric ritual, it actually will eventually free you, liberate you, as it were, um er, if i could just have a moment's breadth of time with you, i would be in satori.

carry onward my sweet and sour whiskey girlie.

want you to live and experience deeply, as you have delightfully shown here. to be "unbearably alive".

nausea ain't smell half as bad as infected poop, by the way.