There was no end to that road

only moments of pleasure

maybe hours sometimes, sure

but it always came to an end.

pain is not something to hide from

and he learned that by trying to

and noticing that despite his intense efforts

it always comes back.

film portrays

dirty faces

and thousand yard stares

with flashing lights

and quiet reverence

suggesting that there is

something deeper going on behind dead eyes

some beautiful unspoken thing

that brought about a great, un-questioned and desirable pain.

when was the last time you saw

and unwashed traumatized face

and did not react with revulsion and pity?

when was the last time you stared at someone suffering and thought to yourself:

"wow, this is beautiful"?

the wrathful rage of someone who does not know better

is an embarrassing lapse in form

that showcases the weakness of the person

at the center of the explosion

for the good of the order

just pretend that

you do not need to be heard

in the entirety of your experience

by everyone in the proximity

of the thing that hurt you

you might start to notice

that things better left

unsaid do not fester

if you show your willpower

and manifest change

in your actions appropriately

that burning inside you is very important

and should never go ignored

but it needs to be harnessed,

controlled, and honed into a tool

not a destructive force

what if everything is like an egg

and the shell is being cracked and broken

by the primordial seismic energy that created all existence

revealing new and unexplored layers constantly

never really revealing the inside

but getting closer all the time

some layers are disgusting

some layers are beautiful and pleasurable

many layers are incompatible

causing rifts in relationships

nobody's fault

things just kept on cracking

changing and becoming

unrecognizable

and it always feels costly

even though it's inevitable

I think human beings were designed

to grieve.

sure enough there was time to kill in the back lot of the Walmart distribution center and because of that a congregation of incredibly tired coworkers stood around smoking cigarettes and complaining about life's woes and nobody had anything impactful or meaningful to contribute which created a vortex of negativity that spread across the entire parking lot engulfing every person in a half mile radius wherein everybody in the danger zone without a strong set of moral values began complaining to nobody about nothing breathing in and out the negativity that was already in the air, becoming individual points photosynthesizing nothing into nothing else and the clouds got dark causing a further negativity in the minds and hearts of those affected and as the lightning struck down in targeted bursts destroying the homes of happy people until there was nothing left but curmudgeonry and attention seeking conversations comparing pain as a yardstick for personal validation.

Self hatred divines a sense of paranoia that extends itself throughout the experience of the individual until they are at odds with everything that comes into their awareness.

These individuals grew up in an emotional desert and were often considered valuable mostly on the basis of what they can or are willing to do for their caretakers. In certain cases, these individuals grow into jealous wrathful people who expect acts of service and submission from those they hold close because it is the only way their minds can recognize love. This perpetuates a cycle of unreasonable expectations, mitigation of feelings, and the avoidance of discomfort (which often feels like a physiological emergency for traumatized individuals). The pain this can cause for those who love the broken person is strong enough to perpetuate the cycle, especially in adults who are unaware of their compulsion to make others happy for the sake of their own mental safety.

The problem cannot be solved through external means. Self love, faith, and a non judgmental acceptance of pain are how we awaken to the behaviors we engage in.

can you change

the fire into rain?

what is the purpose of

waiting for nothing to happen?

how do you know when you've

done all you can?

is patience more valuable

than pride?

what is worth all this

sacrifice?

should there be justice

for your feelings?

who do you feel

you deserve to know?

does everything

have to be perfect?

are your emotions

killing you?

do you know what the

answers are?

terrifying challenges

some intensity undeserved

from the moment the cloth was lifted

the glare from the sun was overwhelming

and on some days it is too cold

on some days sweat burns in the eyes

and on some days the sun is a demon

on some days it brings life

all of it depends on everything

moment to moment, unpredicted

ultimately there is not peace

ultimately there is not chaos

it becomes frustrating

to describe

when the only way to do it

is to lie

moment focused

values oriented decision making

proper and improper

mindfulness and positivity

where does one sentence stop

and the other begin

can we take a second

to breathe

even in itself this thing

you're reading

has no real meaning

even though it's made up of meanings

and the close proximity

of stanzas in a vertical line

tricks you into believing

that all of this is connected somehow

but in reality it's all just well organized

beautiful nonsense

feel small and love it.

witness the incredible power of something

and be overtaken, just like a child again

greedily drinking the surroundings

for fear of missing even one small detail

of the ever-increasing intricacy that is here.

each individual unit moving independently

and perfectly placed both for aesthetic and functional purpose

divided up in such a way to make something bigger happen

while also projecting an infinite number of facets

which can each be explored with equal fervor

and to an ultimately unlimited depth

and in the act of attempted comprehension

the mind warps and stretches around many ideas at once

until it is no longer aware of its actual size and limitation

and, perhaps, confuses itself with what it observes

creating a sort of dilution, or an absence of separation

and the self that it remembers dissolves into particles

which are absorbed by the surrounding cacophony

to the point where observation itself becomes a fevered mania

powered by the energy of the entire universe

and is unable to be articulated with words in the moment

because the body is so enveloped by the feeling

that it really doesn't matter what the feeling is

but upon later reflection, one might notice how the feeling rhymes

with terror, and pleasure, and excitement, and sadness, and joy, all at once

and we wrap that experience up (in English) using three letters:

awe.

Thinking a lot about how the greatest pain

forges you like a steel blade

how broken bones heal back stronger

so we cannot have one without the other

The same force that turns mountains to sand

kickstarts the life inside you

stretches it like a rubber band

and pulls it through some kind of listless maze

Circles and cycles

grass growing and dying

inside you is fire

and it burns everything

But I think we are sick

of cliched advertising

and being sold on

what we "are"

I think everyone knows that behind pain is purpose

and that we all have purpose whether we know it or not

it's simply the difference between doing and being,

to have free will is to be without sin.

It's all very tiresome

so we cope and continue

and rationalize with millions of words

in millions of ways, what anything means

So many what if's and wishes

and waiting to see's

and hoping for something

that might never be

Histories and once-upon-

a-time stories fables and lessons

outrageous confessions, suspense, accusations

sex and violence

movies and songs

false actualizations

with finite durations

that have limitations

and seem effortless

-life-

it seems like someone

shoved a key in a lock and turned it too hard

and hit something that hurt and contacts childhood

some longing, painful, unsatisfied thing

that sits just behind your eyes screaming

taking it in and moving and working

and laughing and crying and all the time "trying"

and feeling defensive, so often pensive or

excessively aggressive and obsessed with perfection

afraid knowing that death is the end of the sentence

that we barely have any sense of,

and so with apprehension

we move forward and question the method by which

our lives were created to gain some control and cultivate patience

in order to work and just barely make, it all the while

comparing ourselves to each other not knowing that

we're all the same