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PAIN PERSPECTIVE AVAILABLE EVERYWHERE 09/16/22
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"Life is often set up as a thing that has a clear cut path, go to school, get a job, find a mate, get married, buy a home, have a kid and then you wait to die. However, this pressure that we can find ourselves feeling is arbitrary in the grand scheme of things. Who cares if you don't want kids, who cares if you do? Who cares if you wanna have fun for work and who cares if work is prideful, we restrict ourselves bit by bit till we no longer see the desired path we all have deep down. Life is not a race and it's definitely not on a marked path. This ones for all those wandering along their journey soaking in the enjoyments of life and not rushing towards the end. Live your purpose not what others want you to. Think beyond what you think "life" needs to be."
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Meander:
"Do not drift. Do not saunter. Betray today and manifest your destiny. You are only temporary.
live not for your future. live to serve, live for us. Service is survival. Service is survival. Serve; survive.
Wanderer! Left adrift. Conflicted by decisions you want nothing to do with.
Ponderer! Led to a ditch with a shovel and a handbook.
Lonesome blood, doomed sons, the betrayals of love.
Everybody’s got their reasons to slaughter a dove.
What’s yours? Does it set you apart from the gulls?
Come one come all to the event at hand! Distracted and bloated the eager weevils crawling up the stands.
Lost on a journey to bury my hatchet and all that I got was one less hatchet.
No one knows one. What compels me to run!?
Who? huh?. Will you turn to?
Inside the deepest recessions of the darkest minds.
The repressions in session it stretches beyond my eyes.
Disgust inspired the petty man’s empire.
MEANDER TO THE EDGES OF THE EARTH!
Foot by foot we take our leap from the turf. (We take our leap from the turf)
Strapped down to the cosmic belt a rotation of endlessness felt!
Doomed to repeat infinitely to the end and back again.
Destructive wanderlust!
Crushed!
Beneath the mass of our suns; it’ll never stop.
Until we bury our own! Till death we’re dead.
Come one come all see the end of days! There’s not much to say and you’ve got no where to stay.
Lost on a journey to bury my hatchet and all that I got was one less hatchet.
They watch us weep, writhe, wriggle and crawl on the bellies that our gods have placed us upon.
They force feed us with hate, then blame all their mistakes on the base that we are destined for failure.
I’ve travelled planes in my mind I’ve seen our graves all aligned, could you forgive me if I fail you?
“Prisoner enrooted?”
Pressure hits the ceiling got no motives to my feelings lack of motion locomotive on the tracks but no ones going.
Lonely-lost, better off... foot in mouth, shoe on head, till the end it all means nothing to the dead.
29 авг 2024
