From Maggot to Fly

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The cigarette bud is crushed

Into the creases

Of rotten Would.

 

I can see my face

Resembled in the ash

And know we are

One and the same.

 

Though I more closely

Imitate the insect.

Rummaging through cadavers,

Squirming boils burst

at their own

 volition

 

Dug deep into the earth

To taste the red hot

Of my species

 

Under so much weight,

I begin the great ascent

Knowing it’s likely

I’ll never see

The green surface.

 

It’d be easier to accept death,

But what’s the point

Of a bug like that.

Writhing in Tepid Streams

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Hell bound Hounds

We’ve found

we’ve drowned

Could the sea

Wash more away

Than sin?

More than body and soul?

So unassuming,

So indifferent.

Maybe the secret to the pursuit,

Is in the changing tide

Unsure of what’s to be.

Sacrificed for this brittle end,

But with laces tied

And eyes covered

I walk.

Looking to Failure

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Don’t live life looking for the path of least resistance. Don’t avoid challenges because if you do, you’ll never have any idea where your potential lies and if you can’t understand your potential, then you’ll never meet it.

It’s important to ask yourself: What have you failed at today? The real root of growth; the struggle.

Caught Between Death and Empathy

 

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This is actually a journal entry, the beginning is an echo of my fear of the medical complications of type one diabetes, (For more information on the disease:  https://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000305.htm) at a cross section between my anxiety over being kept in the dorm room with some falling friends during 2014.

There’s too much of it. I want to live dammit, let me live. Don’t keep me locked in your grasp. More cage than arms, more entrapping than adoring, let me free. The sun shines, raise the blinds and see it. The world is full of many multitudes of beauty. Just get outside and see it. Take a step outside of paradigm and experience all that makes you Human.

 

If writing  from a first hand experience about diabetes is something that interests you, please comment below, and I’ll look in my goody bag and in the following days I will publish several posts on the subject.

The Wild in Man

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Someday I know

I’ll be carving

Tapered, lead poison night

As the holy scribe

Writing from formed

Candle of animal fat

In nothing but rags and a loin cloth

And the scars of experience

Looking Back at Crazy

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Returning to old Journals. This particular entry is from a little under four years ago:

To ascend through this system, through this game and to get that golden toilet seat. The one the neighbors can’t afford. I don’t care what they do. I want to live in  my passion

Into the Urinal

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I dip my toes

Into the urinal

For the plastic ocean

Is too pure for me.

Humanity isn’t transparent

Sparkling

It’s deteriorating

Yellow puss

Steaming fat

Urine

                Rot

                                Worthless.