house of ceph.
Less is more
Echoing from a forgotten cave
Of fake ideals and big dreams
Less is more
to spread her wings.
in the background, a banjo ~~
When the sun goes down on my side of town
I’ll be ready for you
They only see what you want them to see
Do you believe it too?
Does your shadow ruin the illusion?
Such a fun place to hide
Did you think you’d get off easy?
They’ve been watching you the whole time
Every thing you’ve ever
Every little lie
Even the time you
contradicted yourself about
thought you were completely alone -
A cold wind blows
i think i know who it’s blowin to
re: when i try not to think. into the trench i sink.
it must be so nice being married to a man who never tells you youre wrong, or challenges you in any real way. the most he does for you is earn money for you to spend on things that adorn your body for a week, until it’s ‘out of style’. or vacations, memories that reside in a collection of beer mugs that you drink out of with your friends regularly. seems like a pretty normal, average, basic life. why are you so angry? how often do you use violence to solve problems with your kids? how often do you use subversive, manipulative tactics to solve problems with them?
i don’t envy you, but i sure do think of you. the way a dog thinks of its chain to a tree. or a mafioso thinks of the cement on its feet.
a lot of what you said was true and that’s why i can’t forget it. but that’s your disease, isn’t it? you find the person’s weakest point, and apply pressure until it warps and bends and becomes strained white and clear and a poor representation of what it once was. it doesn’t feel good. but at least i know i can handle anything now. i’m not not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of what you can do. i realize your ripples only account for a tiny part of the lake… and the ocean doesn’t even notice.
remember that time you were so vain that you thought this post was about you?
i love the ocean. the salt. the noise. the movement. nothing can remain the same, it all must be moving or degrading or swimming or living or dying. everything has a purpose. everything gets used. how efficient. the water is like our earth’s lungs, helping to filter air and provide a source of gas exchange. there’s nothing wrong with imagining sitting at the bottom of the ocean. the quiet is so loud here, the pressure of the universe of water will make your blood start to cook itself. pressure can make anything turn.
someone once told me that there are no spurs big enough to get a horse to do what it doesn’t want to do. that’s true. there are limitations to what physical measures can be taken. and the psychological pressures that we apply to each other seem much more prudent, keen, successful. but see, one is harming the body. the body that the mind has managed to forget about most of the time. physical pressure applied to this object will coincidentally serve as a reminder of the body, and the difference between the body and the brain, and can generate vehemence. a death for a purpose. psychological pressure explores the deepest ravines of the mind; a full mariana’s trench probe; taking into account the things that make you weak at your weakest source. psychological pressure, warfare, abuse, manipulation… is always more damaging than physical, since the wounds tend to last longer. the deep psychological wounds start to fester and erode the physical part. soon, your mind’s pain becomes real, physical pain - a twisted ankle, a tight neck, herniated disc, headaches.
but, someone explored all of earth and yet, she manages to be okay. we should follow that lead. let others explore us. go into our deepest depths with their flashlights and their cameras and their minds built by science to identify every nook, cranny, and creature that exists. dig down deep and find the unique things that your mind can do. let them see it. let them judge it. you will hurt but you will be fine. you can’t take this body into your next life anyway.
like the salt and the sea.
i carry you with me.
over and over we turn and we roll
crashing crashing onto the shoal.
don’t wait too lung, my friend…
the Sun arrives soon, and from that, i cannot defend.
like the salt and the sea.
you live in my memory.
a taste so coarse and poignant.
all that’s similar brings me back to this moment.
like a highlight reel, only with everything -
the bad, the pain, the blood, the lies.
you said you wouldn’t play my game…
filter the salt, so the sea is purified.
who will survive?
who has the fight?
you’ll have to work so hard just to make it through one night.
and do the same again and again - for all eternity.
maybe we should leave the salt in the sea...
re: leaf me alone I’m tired
of course green is violence. its a signal of resources; a peaceful, sought after oasis. of course green is violence. the very word itself means something inexperienced and keen on impulse; raw, unfiltered nature. of course green is violence! it's everything we've been trying to stay away from with our caves that turned into huts that turned into houses so complex and beautiful we never have to step out into the green. of course, green is violence. everything green competes with us for the sunlight, reminding us who the real aliens are.
of course, if green is violence, then it surely doesn't explain how we've been seeing so much blue and red and purple and white and black and still having violence. maybe it all comes back to who is the strongest. the filters of the universe are echoed in our own nature - as below so above - and the fittest will survive, as Darwin surmised when he saw those finches on those islands. Darwin stepped into the green of the Galapagos, sprouting from its black lava rock, underneath the blue sky, being kissed by the black-blue sea; he saw the little brown birds with their varying beaks and asked, "why?" and he drew a couple lines and put some specimens in jars to travel with him back to England, to live on a shelf for all this green Earth's existence as a prize of human advancement.
evolution is violence. and nothing is greener than that.
the way you look at me when i am exhausted and you are stressed and we both just need to get out of our heads is violence. our thoughts have evolved past what our brains can handle. just a memory and i can feel the tension in my body as if i were really there. the hormones are triggered by any little thought and i am caught in the turbulent waves, the violence that keeps our planet spinning - both around it's own axis and the sun magnetism.
our planet is green. as far as we know, it's the greenest one to exist. and it holds the highest death rate, birth rate, suicide rate, unemployment rate, and dance-dance revolution stars who entertain folks in the arcade of the mall as they wait for their loved ones to pick out a pair of shoes.
what if green = violence? just look out the window. maybe violence isn't so scary. perhaps we are like sharks on our green land, primed to handle everything thrown our way. everything excpet those damn hormones that keep getting triggered over no real threat. ill always be envious of those damn zebras and their non-ulcer life.
ya gotta believe me, i wish you were there...
On a dock at sunset,
wondering how it’s so consistent.
If i was like that
would my name still fit?
In the water at midnight.
Darkness, darkness; im alright.
Feeling fine alone,
still bright out when the light is gone.
Phear of the dark,
raptured by a shadow
fear of myself
becoming someone i know-
I was fine before you met me
Now I’m forever changed.
It’d be swell for you to forget me
I know you’ll never change
I know you’ll never change.
no wonder the lullabies prepare us to crash down
Imagination helps struggling through this hell
If you could be anyone else
I’d appreciate that.
Why would you stick around for this?
I can’t tell you how you make me feel
Brushing off my opinions
they’re not real they’re not real...
I love to sit out in the storm
Watch the lightning burn
And the thunder roar
I love to feel the rain on my face
I can’t tell you how you make me feel
But if you’d listen I’d say
You make me feel like i could be afraid of storms.
I’m so violently alone.
I have no one who understands or makes me feel whole.
What do i have that can even help me out?
I want to die, i think. I don’t want to have existed at all.
I want my memory to be something other than what it will be.
And what is the process of changing it? (Men in Black lasers (tm) would help.)
Everyone should forget about me. I wish.
Everyone will forget about me.
... I fear it.
Every cell feels the empty
ness of passing time.
Each second reverberates like a train.
We smile on the gravel on the side of the tracks.
I’m so violently alone. I’m not sure where to go.
I’m not even sure if i can say these things or
if my true self is so suppressed she’s limited to only typing. Typing to some distant stranger who will glance over my words out of respect for the lost soul that wrote
them. But still won’t understand. Yet will feel my same pain. I’m so violently alone.
It’s human nature. We all play this game, just given different tools and fields and rules.
But the game doesn’t change.
I’m done playing games. I’m so violently alone. I just wish you’d understand.