Tough is sadness deleted, embraced battle of will and ability, gone. Rough rough rough rough rough rough rough rough, it’s as if dog was barking for hours with no end, no change in tone, me thinking how long will it last and what does it want. Does it belong to anybody?
Rough rough rough rough, disgust, boredom,
disturbance and irritation to get used to, to feel no pain by it, to let the disturbing angst go by letting those little things not get you. You thinking the possible sadness of a dog.
Noble beauty like Everest
I take credit for setting the world on fire. Like Everest, do you think it is charging, do you think it is changing? Greatest individual who ever did say thank you for the flames and went ahead. Saw something ahead worthwhile to walk to, to crawl to, to want to as a human. We are this want, we are want and as much as we want. Striking hitting setting stepping; to do against would be the most influencing aggression. Not to say anything, give a mental mugging and still getting up, wanting still something is happening out of mental disrupt urge, like untrue, like a dream. Scariest negative impulse to make nervous sweat. To radically push and show a point of view, state of mind state of body make fall let fall happen as far as it goes, make falling look like a normal happening resulting understanding. Is there someone to catch you? Don’t! I catch myself. Something to hit ferociously. I am there it sounds as self-loath, self-pity and hate, is put in one, is against me. To take risks of losing life and not be caught, not be found, to be hated. Contradictions of living in hype in positive, trying to be good, telling me to be good, telling how to be good, hard to reach, a noble beauty like Everest.
Please remain seated, please remain silent. Please button up the black dress, a respectable quiet nod. Requested in my emotional every moment, so little is revealed. I cannot. His face of answers and accusations, warnings between every hair of his dark beard. Destroy the evidence in the past. Broke a barrier, I thought had dissolved itself. Lightly given generally optimistic bulletin. His echo repeated the same. His absolute cannot be disturbed. The effort of rising a demanding bank has worn me out and I am not half way the pile of corpses. The ones who really do not speak are those who are alive.
Shutting down, shutting up, shutting off, shutting in, shutting closing. Indecent openness must be heard, a threat to reveal us all, the root of ours. So, it does not exist as we do not say it?
Disbelief towards such fate. Unapproved, unsolved, unwanted, cannot be done. I refuse.
What kind of travelling is worthwhile? Is that the right question? How to travel and where to go?
This is a journey, this is a journey, this is a journey, this is a journey, this is a journey, this is a journey, this is a journey, this is a journey. When this is not a journey, journey is a cliché. I’m not moving much, but I am making progress. The desire has left me to physically travel. Do we look for an end or a new beginning on our way and how to make progress? Do we choose a new way or the same way over and over again? When I repeat this small, many times used sentence, this is a journey, I get a grasp of what this voyage, we are trying to do, is. We need to have a destination and repetition, a pattern to repeat. We need to know how to get there while we are going. What is there, that there is something for us, that we are safe. We are not doing our journeys for nothing. It is about moving, making something worthwhile. Having been somewhere and returned. If we don’t move we are stuck, is the contemporary ideology.
Man entered flowers, tattoos, piercings. Sat on the stairs staring out smelling of wet grass and rain, leaf on his head, yellow, couldn’t say anything. Brown spots, small birch
Nature Wild How In the dirt. I don’t know.
How fragile are we, sting to be stung by a sudden wasp in the hair. When you torched your hair, didn’t know what, to be stung, sting, hit, anger in fists, in small beings staring outside scared.