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“We have art in order not to die of the truth.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

via @quotemadness

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‘rainbow-flux’

[egosamsara-blog]

‘jupiter_dreams’

[egosamsara-blog]

no matter how quickly her pace picks up, the dark snarling dances around her ankles ready to trip her at any moment if she doesn’t pay enough mind. being the impudent creatures they are, they grasp for her whole being.

“if your heart keeps acting up we’ll have to do more tests,” the doctor said, poking cool metal into her chest in order to balance out the blaze that had derailed her train of thought for the past several moments. “settle down for a day or two, it’ll be good for you.” ear to stethoscope still listening to her palpitations, he notes that she is otherwise healthy.

head down she walks out of his office with the same problems and no new solutions. the doctor didn’t seem to understand exactly what she was saying, as if some vital words were getting lost in translation. five tubes of blood later and she is left swimming for a buoy to pull herself up on. the fatalist figures at her feet attempt to pull her downwards, becoming indolent as her resistance fades. suddenly their force reverses suction into propulsion, sending her to surface level. for a minute the sun disappears behind a cloud and the disposition of the stormy streets comes back into focus.

the creatures begin to dance around her and, no longer snarling, they sing. she recognizes the tune and hums along. the notes concatenate into melody and her brain’s hemispheres connect, sending signals the atmosphere had been waiting for. she knew now that there is no room for denial of her condition. slackened ankles clack alarmingly loud but she pays no mind to the bugging of eyes and shrugs her shoulders.

[egosamsara-blog]

the boy is blue

i don’t mean to be any sort of way

but you see;

i’ve got this heart that brutishly beats

and it makes me a little nervous.

cause once i knew a boy who never got to be a man

and they said he died

from the same supply we had.

[egosamsara-blog]

i heard your name in a conversation my eyes lit up, the blaze will burn down a nation. you taught me how to see through all the schemes now I'm left with all these fallen queens.

[egosamsara-blog]

the unbending of time

we are bred naked and pulled into reality by stringent laws. a seismic wave threatens a butterfly in barbados; he belays himself into a coagulated state of affairs. it isn’t simple. no matter the effort spent the same results ring true. time tips her hat to the sky; there is reason to acknowledge each being becoming conscious of her affairs. their shared silenced invited her to discern his revivified wing-beats.

[egosamsara-blog]

soul pieces.

they fell in pieces around her

each one like a part of an eggshell,

so fragile and beautiful.

white faced,

gaunt, molten lead 

washing through her veins.

[egosamsara-blog]

don’t touch.

don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me, oh God please don’t touch me. i back up and splay my arms and body up against the brick wall. my head slams on the solidarity of the object and my chest grips the air in my lungs, making me pant to attempt to keep the blood flowing to my head. i need to focus... but the edges on this situation are blurring. i’m exiting, i’m leaving. i’ve entered my own little world through the little back door; and i now stand there looking at the merchandise around me. all that is behind that door is still going on, but i don’t feel it. my body’s natural reaction is to numb itself out, to fill myself up with other shades of light and adjustments to the eye. reality just doesn’t seem to work for me.

why won’t everyone stop knocking on my goddamn front door? i’m trying to sleep but it’s keeping me up. i lay awake, listening to the infernal beating of my heart and the knocks finally disappear into the night; where they lurked out from to haunt me. sleep cradles me but i wake up, shivering. when did i go swimming? i must have slept walked last night. nothing i do can stop this good morning.

[egosamsara-blog]

Dear God

oh, i pray. “Dear God,

don’t let this snake

distract me from my goals.

Dear God; don’t let me sell my soul.”

[egosamsara-blog]

to feel the winds

whip away my sins.

http://iglovequotes.net/

[egosamsara-blog]

11/10

he said apologies were overrated,

as if sorry were a knife serrated. 

[egosamsara-blog]

[egosamsara-blog]

/—-/wake.up!/.+./_smell_the_coffee/—-/

>> source <<

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“If you are ruled by mind you are a king; if by body, a slave.” - Dionysius Cato, Distichs of Cato via

via @philosophybits

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