Friday, December 26, 2003

Nausea.
When you walk for a long time you get cynical. I'm pretty cynical as of late, what with learning what the 'adult' thing to do is in so many situations- it is amazing what you can learn from people who are not even 10 years older than you.

The world is like a bad dream of late, the bad dream that repeats itself like the dunes of a desert in Africa- endless, limitless, horrible with nothing but that. Everytime I approach my subconscious it is like approaching an old man- it knows why you are there and questions your intentions.

Smoking a cigarette, he more than likely tosses it to the side haphazardly risking whatever consequences could come from such a move. He doesn't look at you really- he doesn't need to, you come often enough, your reflection is in the water beneath the docks- your subconscious. He is dressed in old clothes like he has seen better days, ragged beard with hints of whine amongst it. His hat blocks your vision of him, casting a shadow over what you could only assume to be a wiser face than yours.

There are scars on his hands, unburdened by anything now- deep, long scars that more than likely trail up his arm, maybe over his whole body. The wars this man has fought in are probably endless, the comrades he has seen fall around him a list that should be shorter but fate's hand denies to be that short- nay, longer it must be.

You exchange dialogue- it is biased, like a child trying to argue with a sage.

That would probably because it is a child trying to argue with a sage.

He dismisses your pleas for added wisdom from whatever hidden collective you retain inside your subconscious, and tells you to push forward before asking for supplies- push forward, you must continue the fight to the ends of the earth.

What are we fighting for, truly- but one life to live, must we spend it physically fighting over things that won't matter? Humanity fights more than anything else, we fight, we fight and we fight- we develop weapons to fight better, fight faster, fight harder.

You were born into conflict and you weren't even notified- isn't it funny? Isn't it funny how humor fails you most when you need it. Combined with the ignorance you have surely attained with your years it makes it seem like a sitcom comedy with scripted punchlines and expected outcomes.

That is not the answer I seek to the problems I have, you fool. I am not the child in that situation, surely not- I might be less tempered, less wise, less logical than my soul who I believe to have lived countless more lives than I but I surely know enough to be farther up the rungs of the ladder than a mere child?! Have I spent time upon time studying things that don't matter to the majority of people for nothing?! If my soul knows all this then why must I push forward slightly blinded to all I could see.

Forge into the darkness to see what you knew was there? Is there a point to that anymore, the proving of what has been proved? Even in the mind's eye must we continue to do that waste of energy, resources and time? I don't know.

Comatose- we are all comatose in our own little ways, a different way from all, a different way from each. If you look AT yourself you won't see, but if you look at your REFLECTION in the water you might. The answers are not as melodramatic as a Pandora's Box, surely not- if it were a Pandora's Box someone would have died from this pursuit a long TIME ago wouldn't they?

It is more of a cabinet, the kind you find in an attic where the key is more lost than you ever fucking will be, somehow that is possible in your blissful bigotry- how? Only the deities know. That cabinet probably holds more knowledge than I could ever hope to teach, to know, to keep- yet I already was taught, know and kept it for my next try at this experimental habitat.

So what truly must I push forward to gain that prize that I have amassed over the countless millennia's my soul has been dancing from reincarnation to reincarnation? Truly it has it's memory, yes? Or do I need to remind it.

Finally at the end of the road all will be shown- demon or angel? Declare MY allegiance? I am allied to no one but man, my own, my hand, my body, my PSI.

Pressured hulls crack- will I do the same? Sinking further into something that will make me alienated further. Like me for my mind do you? I wish more felt that way, the personality traits that you cherish I don't really recognize as being special so appreciate them for me while I try to find the key.

Confused? Misunderstand me not, the path is dark- that is what I mean. The lantern we have could already be lit, but somehow we must relight it. Faith in men, reincarnation, gods- it is all failing slowly in me, one point faster than the rest sometimes. Uneven, untempered.

But surely in my meditation I have found my inner self to be slyer than anything else, something that I surely did not recognize as being a form of my mentality. Surely pushing forward is the only thing to do- but must I have the only reason to be the possibility of discovering that which was discovered?

In my fevered ranting, sweat on my brow, the point may have been lost in this- the pure thoughts as they came, the ranting of my inner mind, the sanctum I hold dear. I am not wise, I am barely intelligent on the scope of all things yet I have seen all I want to see.

Is this the true face of everything the world has to offer? Or is the larger picture a much darker, misfocused one than the smaller picture? To become wiser..

To be lost in the translation is worse than what, then? To be lost in translation, to lose the audience with the speakers ranting? That is amusing, at best. To make it more difficult for the reader means for them to care they have to put out effort to decrypt the incoherent mess that is my instantaneous thought.

Alas, I do not know all the answers and I am beginning to think that I don't want to know- the clock might start to run out faster if I pry into where I am prying. This is too much of a price, I wish I had never gone down this path- too much of a price, too much of nothing to gain a mental something.

But.. it says to push forward. To charge forth like some fool h-..

Some fool human.

Some.. fool.. human..
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