happiness

Painful. That will be the first word to describe the state I am in now. Pain that is rather, complex, unphysical in nature. Pain that I, myself cannot even comprehend. Pain that can only be described by dreams and imagination. Pain, that is not suffering, but is grotesque. Pain that knows no bounds, of which, it fails to subside. Pain that isn’t harmful at all, yet, mortifying.

I am in agony. I scream, whilst I had my mouth shut. Darkness, of which I am afraid, is taking over my soul. I am tormented by the hell of which my consciousness and feelings drive me to ensue that sensation, that maddening, intensifying, ingratuitous, sorrow and desolation.

I am in death. I sleep, in endless slumber. In my nonexistent world I see myself drowning, inhaling blood as I continue to strive for death in my eternal wake. Accursed to experiencing this reality, I rejected my insanity. Corrupted by the voices I hear in my mind, I remain foolish.

Sorrowful. It would be satisfying if someone felt pity for me. If only they could understand and bear the weight of my desperate existence. But they laugh. Joyful, they chant their curses at my inconceivable illness. Slated as one of the world’s most severe defects, they tarnished my past, my present, my future, with their judgmental whims and conclusions. It is as if, I exist to desist from existing. Hated, they burn all my attempts to recognize hope in the world I was presented to.

I cried. I closed my eyes and asked for empathy. I tried to be human. I tried to understand the world. I tried to comprehend this filthy, sick world I belonged to. But I failed. I failed to know the reasons, the truths of my corruption.

I was sad. I was alone. I was empty. I just am.

 

in the apostasy of your belief of ghosts 

the clock, the ticking, it is maddening.
reserved startling, forever burning.
submissive, possessive, agressive writing.
creative pornographic colors of killing.

display. the visual forms of silence and apathy.
corrective glasses, shifting abnormality and reality.
the subverter of anarchy.

the foolish, the villain, identified.
pages classified, life electrified.
sorrowful, spiteful, words amplified.
dazzling showers of the skies unmodified.

dismay. a collective array of lies and invention.
assertive arguments, pre-determined calculation.
the original equation.

repetition, an absurd pattern of compilation.
not a solution, mechanical abortion.

sublime, correcting every path from unreprieve
I am the one you will believe

continuous, nonsense, will dominate.
shadows, masks, will propagate.
preparing the path of the un-illiterate.
the solitary philosophy incarnate.

ordinary

Solemn green treetops ascend from the hallway is straight and polished there was a crowd in a room answering a question on the glazed white board she slaps her stick on the table when someone is snoring continuing the ordeal of required learning it became silent hearing the sound of someone breath slowly inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale I change my posture from slouching to straighten up my thoughts she has wrinkled eyebrows while preparing the test for today last night she might have drank a liter of coffee when suddenly a book fell down on the floor I gazed on the window it became dark on the faraway horizon was an unfinished construction of a dream of a group of existences soaring high with windows and bricks and mortars a bird flew out of sight it is almost 3PM and I haven’t had anything to eat today is the second day of the Georgian week last night I saw the moon in its fullest while I adored its beauty but I caught someone staring at me… I was caught in the flow and I was disturbed by a series of numbers scribbled on the wall she told us to bring out our calculators but I don’t have a bag with me as tissues and papers were found on the hinges of the joints of the desks but suddenly she was angry because of their scorn towards an announcement of a test to be taken next week it is still noisy outside inside is dull and boring I guess I have nothing to do but stare at the oscillating ceiling fans orbiting in motion like a planet rotating around its axis I love science because it is my favorite subject my socks are wearing away and I noticed that my shoes are dirty I blink and blink my eyes I guess I am tired watching and being awake all night while entertaining myself to fantastical disappointments of a failed guess of a romantic pair to be, must be, their role of the writer and the director putting them together created the misconception of the fact that they have to be lovers like the usual cliche in movies and dramas I noticed I was running out of time I edit my thoughts in a stream of corrugated unorganized thoughts I was not listening I ask myself the reason for everything she was still enraged they are still boisterous I am still writing until now.

mentality

I have nothing but a pencil in my right hand, and a knife in my left. I draw life in the walls, I cut life, drawing out their voice[s]. Passionate[ly] gratifying deaths for the one who gave them meaning. Sporadic, they chant my name[s].

Create. Kill. Create. Kill.

I bid to them, subservient[ly].

The Miscreation 

War. They waged destruction.
Oblivion. They assumed domination.
Horrifying, torn apart from the true reality,
Undying, waking up from false mentality.

Forward, we only see with blinded eyes.
Towards, the void of unkempt lies.
Addicted, we drink in the well of filth.
Corroded, consumed by the burning tilth.

We are, the illusion.
We are, the obsession.
Not dead, inexistent.
Dyed red, un-omnipotent.

Sickness. They spread infection.
Darkness. They shut contrition.
Unforgiving, aptly stripped of divinity,
Unpitying, denied by sheer scrutiny.

Forward, we only shout with wounded cries.
Towards, the world of despise.
Scalded, we drink in the well of filth.
Wretched, consumed by the burning tilth.

We are, the illusion.
We are, the obsession.
Not dead, inexistent.
Dyed red, un-omnipotent.

Deplorable, unrecognized, implausible, dehumanized.
Abominable, uncivilized, impalpable, demoralized.

We are, the illusion.
We are, the obsession.
Not dead, inexistent.
Dyed red, un-omnipotent.

immersion

It is dark. I tried opening my eyes, I only saw darkness. I can’t move. I can’t breath. But I am not dead.

I dwell my thoughts on what may be happening to me. And I remembered. I was falling. Eternally falling towards an infinite depth you cannot measure through the units of length and height. It is as if, I were not falling at all. It can be more described of as, floating, Floating into an eternal plane whose bounds are unlimited. Whose reaches end in nothingness.

Feeling pain nor pleasure, I cannot enjoy or suffer in this situation. Loneliness? I do not know of such a thing. I always have been a singularity. My existence has always been in solitude.

But why am I in this state? This must be a dream. A nonsensical dream. But I do not dream. Dreams are the manifestation of desires. I have always been satisfied with myself. Contented, I live traceless in a world that belonged to no one, but my consciousness. A world populated with petty things such as the self-existing humans and their creations. But I cannot exist in them. So this isn’t a dream. Or, I force myself into believing so.

If that is the case, then I should admit that I am desiring something. But what may that be? This is an empty world in which I continuously fall into a void of stark blackness. There is nothing desirable or anything to desire here. There is even nothing, but myself here.

Then, do I desire myself? But I am satisfied. Or, again, I force myself into believing so.

Incompleteness. I might still be imperfect. I should not have this kind of thoughts. My existence alone in my world is enough. I do not need such dreams. After all, they are only but delusions. They remain as dreams because they are the essence of the inanimate. They simply do not exist.

Falling. I am still falling. Into the eternal well of nothingness. I close my eyes with the hopes of waking up in my imprudence.

a letter

Dear me,

Good day.

It has been a long time since then. Many things had changed, if otherwise, disappeared. Yet, we remain as we are. Invariant.

Why do we remain as we are now? Had they left us all behind? Or we are just too stubborn to accept the new world? My dear, we are but humans. Imperfect to the point of perfection. The incompleteness of our existence has been the factor of our belongingness to this realm. With that, we strive to walk the earth and breath air to survive.

The frailty of man had become it’s solitary meaning of permanence. We strive. We persevere. Treading the continuity of time, we seek our finality, the completeness of our imperfection. As to such, we find what is most holy, divinity. The entirety of humans are egoists after all. In the end, what they all want is to become the god of themselves.

Wars. Peace. The need for creation can be compared to the need for destruction. As one creates, there is also one that destroys for the world will not continue without this patterns. Because of that, it can be said that the part of the human’s search for completeness is derived from wrath and domination. At its ends, they all desire to conquer the co-existent. What foolish beings.

But here we are. We still remain as we are. Invariant. Nothing in us has changed. After all we have done to achieve today, after all we have done to make us who we are right now, everything is still, worthless.

With all that, I leave myself these questions.

What would become of us? Can we cease to be what we already are? What is the meaning to this world?

An answer may exist, or it just cannot be conceived by words. After all, finding the answer to this questions will be finding the truth. I might find them myself.

I wish I could. Or I think I could. If ever, I’ll just make them.

From, me.