Me, Myself and I
11/24/2011 § Leave a comment
Off into the wonder, off to discover. I feel for those in fear, they, horrified of what they see here! Traumatized to the core, of what they ponder life has in store. I think thy think too hard, a happy thought it has barred! Is it their own nature they despise; is it the life they hate, do they want for their own demise? I have spent too long on this quagmire of depressing humans; I can only simply excuse them. I have not the time to question their sad reasons, I am off to explore these steadily decreasing seasons. I wish them all the best in their plight, but off I sail~ into this magnificent life!
Electric and grim within the same skin, born to a life by the masses excluded. Dejected rejected, disrespected Uncommon is uncharacteristic, punished as taboo. Over and under , medicated, restricted, pitied, misunderstood. As like a thunderstorm on the travel, clashing fronts progressive. I embrace this life so irregular ,I have accepted, no two days related, on a whim of chemicals redirected, focused on no objective. Registered incompetent, them apprehensive, I attention inconstant; redirected deflected. I , finally, understanding through much un-weeded suffering , I , not broken, merely a different seed. My mind is able, but a horse of another color, not the bastard of a lamed steed. Ingeniously, I normal invented, walk among them than discard it, for freedom and pride, the pretended. Why, if I walk alone, I have none obscuring my interpretation.
I struggled I struggle. Yesterday was then, I not there again. For lack of a better phrase, the best of me fought the worst of me, as neither side won. I fought with my cognizance as I myself flung myself from one realm of a chaotic mind to the next. With no notice, no starters pistol, no gentlemen’s warning, off I would be catapulted , filled with exhilaration but with no obvious excitement, no bedrock reason for me to enjoy. From civil to instinctive, what little is left,back to the first, became that was all that was left. Commanders in the mist, invisible directors, directing me in no apparent direction, lost, exhausted ,defeated by my fruitless journey ,my search for the nothingness, I land, I fall, horribly in sorrow with as much warning or reason of the rise.
In the beginning, it was like awaking to a pre-dawn August morn, a creamy blackness of fog with a simple touch of fire in that emerging morning, a battle betwixt the night’s despotism and the day on fire . Yet in a vulgar flash, My August turns to a bitter February, where all is incased in that bright blank canvas , that cold dead naught, low, depressed, without but with, with nothingness, no hope no happiness; in myself trapped. I am not a sumac, dead before living. From that utmost extreme of unequivocal pleasure ,of happiness of wonder, in adventure, I am slammed head first, into despair, regret without reason, ashamed, I, We, all mourning the loss of the best part of me, the energy out of control, the defiant defiance, life at the end of a string…Life loses all its bite. Being aware of what others see in you as corrupted and damaged, that change from mild and sedate to wild and irate, from day to night, from landed to flight, was then a monstrous burden to carry. I, now indifferent. Early on, or more so until late, starting when I was first conscious of my actions, that first gleaming light of ego, where my memory gives me my past back in thrusting shocking awing indulged scenes of me unchained.
From the start I was pitted against myself, with few in my corner, no cut man, no coach, I was a child lost in a crowded room. Ignored, they confounded, afraid, few knew what or how to succor, so they did little more than give a blind eye to the obviously different me’s in their presentence. I was well over-taken by this gift. Yes a gift, better than a curse, for I knew and now know, I am but on a different voyage… An Osage among weeds…The genius of it is being unable to settle into a life of the melancholy, the common thought, Left right left, keep in step! Unable to grasp that common thought, taught to the common lot, ABC-123 what does that have to do with me? From my first days off the teat, I ask those things that were well beyond me. Perception, degrees, thought of the stars thoughts of the trees. I saw numbers and signs, questions without answers, natures design. I question the order of things, the reasons for this and that, not of a normal child, far from that. How far can I go in this unlimited mysterious excitement without a guide, how many roads can I travel at once alone? This gift of imbalance ! This prize, though it was presented in the most perplexing of ways, rapped without instruction or note, direction nor induction, gifted for my pleasure, but o so much pain.
A thousand thoughts and a thousand roads, each I see, each on them I explode. A simple thought turns into a perplexing rhyme at the most un-opted time. Up to the next, the path spilt again on hill through woods, back where I have been. A shadow in a corner, a scent on the air, a butterfly, a life in the stars, uncontrolled, leads me to here than there…
E over I, I over E. So powerful so beautiful so entrapping, so terrorizing, so exhausting so lonely, so punished, so confusing, so weak so strong. Nothing , not punishment, not confinement, not ridicule, not religion ,not government, not fear, not pity, not intervention, not limits enticing, not condemnation ,not ignorance, not science, not love, nor hate…none block my journeys. Off as I, we wishes, separate from the whole, aside of me, or the idea of me a title given to me by those not me. Conformity is easy for the many, to be a part you must fit the part ,loss a part, but this I do not believe, this I cannot conceive.
Malfunction is the order for those who fall wayside. Alternatively, should I say fall from the gang line, the straight line the thin line, the sad line. Teachers sisters brothers mothers fathers, friends enemies, strangers, doctors lawyers, the law, the outlaw, the in-laws , the written law, the unwritten law ,all stood in judgments in their own time, looking where I am defined, all given into the belief of no hope, no cure, no good ,no future, no sanity, unchained unable unsalable, unbalanced, uncommon, unworthy.
Trip through the rip I call my brain. A journey so scary a health man would strain. In the creases are pieces; odd bits and creatures, beginnings and ends, conclusions, inclusions dilutions affirmations digestions reflections fears wealth poverty and what parts that halfly remain. From these place’s I see my paces where I turned from graces and lead myself by my very own hand. To the left is security in the whole, off to the right I go. I am happily lonely in the company of others, peace is with me when sorrow inflicts all others, towers of pain runs through the veins of those in the company of the main, the game, each have the same thoughts each have the worries of the common lot, but what has happened to me? Am I saved from the ways of the common day, the sad life of unfit fights of strife against self, of pride of life destined to be? Not me, here I stand a lonely happy man, company of one but for the other hunkered down in my brain. It may not be a curse a matter a defeat a difficultly, it may be I simply escaped the self made pain?