okay. thank you. this'll do.

nothing to say; just the urge to say something

madison just said "eighteen... eighty-one." there was no external stimulus present to prompt it. i was reading skittle's post "meanings" on the blog "12:34." funny, random, all that wondrous stuff.

specificity eludes me. color is absent. monochrome, intangible absolutes are all i am aware of. i've got this hypothesis (based on past experience) that i'll not feel the in between unless engaged by some reciprocal; a light source through which to view the aspects of light as it travels and i remain still or as i travel through its stillness.

i heard that the girls will be going to their grandmother's "this summer;" i dunno when that is, but i'm going back to the canyon, then. come along if you'd like; i've still got to figure out transportation, or just wind up rolling without a plan of any predetermined sort.

i'm wide awake. and my third eye is tightly shut. all i can do is remember love and truth and the all; it's a "that," now - a promise that saves me succumbing to despair, but not the experience of the waves within the ocean that is despair. angst. boredom. loneliness. confusion. frustration. apathy. i know hope; i don't feel it. i know i love; i don't feel it. i know there is a way to interpret it all as beauty, but i'm not in alignment with that perspective. monochromatic; plain; lifeless; loveless - and what's it mean that i want the something else? something i cling to and release and erase my definition of. something that's not something else, but me and.. and whatever else it is that defies description. i let go. i am, but impurities exist, baffling me and efforts and the effort to relinquish effort. i chose to be here; now i can't leave. fuck, fuck, fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck!

somebody save me in the way only i can save myself. somebody point it out to me; i can point others to it, but it's conceptual to me, now; the between has become unfamiliar. help. me.

white mother wolf, visit me, please! please! please? i abandon my stupid knowing better. i don't know anything. you're out there. you're in me. where am i? damn this!

every time i look at the clock, there's some non-specific meaning in the sequence. 11:44, right now. i remember seeing mile marker 568 and wondering, "where's the '7'?" and i remember the answer being "well, i'm seven; i'm the lack i perceive, the piece that completes my perception." i am the balance of my perspective; all i perceive is the balance of me. fuck this knowledge, barrier to being. i'm stuck knowing being. i just want to be being. i need some relief. solace. peace.

god? God? i'm addressing You. help me, please. i abandon my self image. i abandon correctness. i'm lost. bleat. bleat! bleat!? bleat motherfucking bleat!!!

damnit. damnit.

respite. respite. respite. i'm lost. i'm stuck. i'm lost. i'm stuck. i'm lost. i don't remember anything but that encapsulated truth, Truth encapsulated. can i please break it open? temporarily? can i dive in? push me in! i don't remember how to jump. i keep looking for the edge to throw myself over. it's barren, here. i'm barren, cluttered with nothing. full of emptiness - pieces of it, obstacles, garbage, baggage, tethers. i'm gulliver, my thoughts lilliputians. burn them all into nonexistence; let the heap of gathered ashes await me, for later - now, though, let me be at peace! please!

i'm begging you, here, in these words, through this unpublished blog entry, within my flesh and mind and all i command - i relinquish. i let go. i don't want anything i have or am. i'll pick up the yoke, or welcome its replacement, some other time. please, i don't want to be this. not right now. i'm sorry. please. unburden me. let me be free for a while, so the memory's more fresh.

and, if that's not to be, so be it. let your will be my will, Father, Mother, God, Universe, All Knowing All Being. i love you.. i know i do. i love me; i know that, too. i love everything - why don't i feel it? i can't imagine a purpose. i can imagine a purpose that i can't imagine, my inability to imagine it being a part of its purpose or a necessity for its delivery.

i'm not happy right now, though. you know that. i'll suck it up until sweet death.

i'd really like some respite, though. i'd like to be what i pretend to remember.

am i faithless?

again?

i love you.



Peace

share. give. to the future of the future.

omegle introduced me to a fifteen-year-old who's better off than i was at twenty-five, and is, through willingness, becoming what he wishes to understand. if he can do this at fifteen, what might the future hold? if we place the youth on our shoulders, allow them to stand atop the mountain of our own failures, to continue from the point at which we've fallen - what might there be? enlightened, loving, aware children, spending a lifetime sowing love and furthering love and awareness and acceptance? what a wondrous spectacle that would be! i hope to see it; i'll return as a mosquito to bear witness, and rejoice as i'm splattered by a child who is reminded briefly thereafter of the sacredness of Life in all God's forms.

this is where we are GOING! get on board! PLEASE! please, forsake yourself, embrace Self through selflessness. there is nothing more wholesome. there is no greater fulfillment to be had.

i am so grateful.

colin hay's "waiting for my real life to begin"
there are so many parallels, so much familiar. yes; i'm aware that i'm running in the same circle, standing in place, covering the distance between this me and death. no, awareness of the truth, of the probability of the futility, does not deter me from this course, or lack thereof, or whatever it is.

asterisks by what seems most pertinent, now.



*Any minute now my ship is coming in
*I'll keep checking the horizon
And I'll stand on the bow
And feel the waves come crashing
Come crashing down, down, down on me

And you said,"Be still, my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in"
Don't you understand?
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

*When I awoke today suddenly nothing happened
But in my dreams I slew the dragon
And down this beaten path
And up this cobbled lane
*I'm walking in my own footsteps once again

And you say,"Just be here now
Forget about the past
Your mask is wearing thin"
*Let me throw one more dice
*I know that I can win
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

Any minute now my ship is coming in
I'll keep checking the horizon
*And I'll check my machine
*There's sure to be that call
*It's gonna happen soon, soon, oh so very soon
It's just that times are lean

And you say,"Be still, my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in"
Don't you understand?
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

On a clear day
I can see, see for a long way

On a clear day
I can see, see a very long way

i'm kinda saddened that i can't imagine ever again being so enamored as to feel the absolute need to spend every waking moment with a person. i've lost something by evolving into this more independent, definitively defined me. i never wanted to be a grown-up.

whelp laid, furr end, whelp laid.
wit thin men huts eyes weighed
fur rum dis harm on he two piece -
whir ear heap laced width he's.

sill he an ticks per veiled
um id aim hinds adder
fore summer ease on
amish ore did in mad her.

the hanks hug in,
the hanks hug in.

beet wean ewe hand you knee verse,
eyes up pose aisle fined
aweigh tool of dis curs
an tomb ache id mine.

discourse regarding count countless

aspects, modes of existence, perspectives:
1. the count
2. countless
3. count countless

the count deciphers; countless encompasses; count countless encompasses both, and the resulting both, and the resulting both, ad infinitum.


the count renders language possible; countless renders balance possible; count countless Is.

the count is i; countless is I; count countless Is.

the count is he; countless is she; count countless Is.

the count prefers; countless is ambivalent; count countless Is.

the count is specificity, is individuality, is identity, is one among all; countless is facetless and omni faceted, is all but not one; count countless Is.

the count knows being knowing; countless is being knowing being; count countless Is.

i call him the count, because that's what he does (discerns, distinguishes).
i call her countless, because she doesn't count (discern, distinguish).
the concept of count countless... unapproachable, approachable, unreachable, nonexistent, everpresent, unending... One; words, thoughts, provide but part of the whole that must be being been to be known; to understand is not to understand; unencompassable. "count countless," chosen label for the unlabellable - applied by the count, the one who requires that there be a label.

fb crap i may wish to have kept had i not

conundrum of the paradoxical palindrome:
not because i like big words, but because it's accurate: unsolvable question spawned by existence of The fact, refuting its own existence, apparently identical from either side - neither perspective apparent that it is but one of two, with simultaneous awareness transcending awareness. The Frontier, nonexistent, between Existence and Not.

"reality" is one of those tangents, my friend; it just happens to be the one that we all agree upon - that agreement (acceptance) sufficing, for most, for understanding otherwise unattainable. i know i'm chasing my tail - but it's my natural inclination to do so; having no preference, i let nature take its course. there's purpose in even the ... See Morepurposeless; my finite (humanly) perspective knows not why, but Faith (yes) leads me as i'm lead, to choose as i "choose," and i am at peace with what "i" am within All That Is. I accept edward's inability to accept, and become a transcendent peace that encompasses that disharmony and its inverse; this does not, however, negate the existence of apparent disharmony - the same, i assume, that is witnessed and was responded to thrice, recently. to each of you: i am more at peace, more often, than ever before i've been; i am truly "in God's hands," and, holistically, as whole as i'll be until this body relinquishes its hold on my soul.

i love you, too. i HAVE found happiness in thinking, now; i'm no longer mired in the old and familiar torment: now i see not only all of the darkness of the void surrounding the flickering light of my awareness as i traverse what thoughts lie between me and death. i've been enlightened with appreciation of the eternal nature of the light and of the... See More void and of their coexistence - The Truth, the nature of Nature, a fact irrefutable and fundamental, its existence made apparent (apparency as substantial, though, only as the fronteir between dark and light, as substantial as choice) by the fact that there is light within the dark, that the two co-exist as a part of the Whole, and that, somehow, i perceive them each and both and All. i had to suffer in order to come here; i know not whether it was pride or skepticism or cynicism or some other predisposition that lead me to re-re-re-invent the wheel - all of that matters no longer; i've arrived Here Whole, with this holistic understanding which is peace, the nature of which tells me that its purpose is but to Be.

through all those words, what i really want to convey is that i have found peace of acceptance, and acceptance of that peace. i mean it - peace used to bug me.

all of it

written to the "you" i see when facing me while seeing "you."
written to "you," to me, and to Universe. interpret it all all ways. the picture will be, then, closer to the complete it'll never reach without you being Me.

Me
Being
Universe

as stated previously

a new sense of tired, of exhaustion, of supreme frustration, of disappointment

in you

in each of you


can't i even get the fucking idea across?
i don't exist. stop fucking knocking.
there is no door;
no house;
no address;
no city;
no address;
nothing.

but you're on the curb you imagine
tossing rocks towards the window
of the mirage that is "me,"
constructed by you and your need


if you didn't want me,
you'd have me.

if you didn't want me,
i'd have you.

you motherfuckers


i do exist.
have a seat.



the "me" you see will not be
never was
but in your mind


Me that Is
is you
already

realize that,
please?


so i can stop being to you
"that"

- an echo of your desire,
rebounding off of the Truth that Is Me
that you fail to see
amidst the composite -

and become to Me This
where "we" can be Me


and admit it

I AM the void
i am what you see

I AM nothing
stop creating me

asshole

and i understand
because
when i'm not here,
consternated
i'm there,
gazing at "you"
longing
as you gaze at "me"

written some time ago; posting similarly-themed metaphorical poetry, moth/flame

Self-actualized
terrified.

So crippled by fear
of allowing her
to draw near only
to shut her out.

A moth to the flame
I fly.
Wary, though, am I.
I've been here before
and I know.

I am the flame;
I will set you ablaze
and douse myself,
then wonder (sincerely)
"why are you on fire?"

it's all the same -
the result, the aim -
the rhyme scheme

another of
the same
guided endeavor
to loose the rudder.

to cut free the implement
of cutting free -
that last tether,
only remainder
of the engine that renders peace

to end the end
and begin beginning

to put into words
a farewell to language,
to thought,
to discernment -

but all there is is the act
of letting go -
less than that, even,
and even that,
even that,
even that


farewell is a lingering,
its desire even less -
but still enough
to remain
the remainder.



Out with the dove!
in with the crow.
Out with the knowing!
in with know.

living is dying
knowing, a prison.
giving
that which can be neither given nor returned.



but i have a body -
specificity
containing

sever severance
and fall into falling
into falling
into

from phallic tendency
of need to sense the frontier
while
fading into the void
of not


encompassing encompassing

farewell,
echo of farewell.

oh! hello...

so
cold
too
warm
because
absolute
zero
ain't
here
or
since
it's
a
dead
stop
it
never
lasts
long
enough


motion is scary
and my chin is hairy
and my heart is wary - of even the smallest things

that's about all i'm sure of
besides Everything

as the moths fly in
again and again
to be seared or charred
and to curse this flame

flicker, flicker
or steadily burn -
either way they see
for either me they yearn

i am the flicker
and i am the flame
and i am the allure
and i am the pain

cannot one tell
as i burn in dark
it is she who is my lover
naked, stark

True
Is

mirror of This
unattainable that
relinquished and held
never not

never so

never not

never so


always the wrong ones
and never what stays
always the desire
never wholeness not wanting
always wanting not to be whole


so they come one
by one
desperate flight to
the promise of light

what the fuck?
what the fuck?
i can't even convey

what the fuck?
there's nothing i can say

to open your eyes to the context i reveal
so fixated on light
and alluring warmth you feel


you don't even see me

you see the light i shed

you don't even see me

the me you've perceived is dead

the me you cling to
perished,
this vibrant me in its stead


but you don't see me


just a husk, an echo of an echo
of an echo of the void


want me not as i need you not
i want to not need you
as you need to not want me
and if we both succeed
in needing not another
each I may find the other
cannot but be
whatever it is
that wicks you, dark, through each Me