Artwork

Another expectation unfulfilled
Murdered by the hands of disappointment
A swift steady killing
The let down of an unfulfilled expectation can be deafening
A loud inner scream no one will ever hear
The moment of tearing as the expectation is being unfulfilled
A constant reminder of how life can have a sense of humor
Can you hear the gods laughing aloud
As they softly cry within themselves
The shattered mirror is the unfulfilled expectation
The deathly denial of a false realization
Self-actualization is the true process of confirmation
A communion within an expectation
A slow steady dwelling within yourself
Now you know all of my secrets
Now you can hear all of my thoughts
Now you understand what my name means
Now you know me

One Sunday morning, about 4 months ago, I decided to go for a walk. I needed to clear my head; needing to clear out the jumbled thoughts and vibrations swarming around within my insides. I was feeling lost, as though I had veered off my path. As I was somewhat walking aimlessly, I found myself coming up on a bridge, which overlooked Buffalo Bayou. I have always found a calming effect within me when I am close to the bayou, as I possibly was not walking aimlessly, as my subconscious led me to it. As I stood within the middle of the bridge, this is when I noticed the fallen tree. The tree had fallen over to the other side of the bayou, as though it was trying to escape from where it was rooted; yet the tree could not go anywhere, only because it was rooted. There were two distinct messages I received from this fallen tree. The first one being: if you fall down or lose your way, as long as you are rooted, you will be able to get back up. The second message I received from the tree: grow where you are planted. My vision of this fallen tree over the bayou, conjured up a deep emotional understanding within me; an understanding I had been searching for my entire life. I was internally moved to the extent of making this photograph I took of the fallen tree, the cover of my new upcoming book; Life as a Form of Treatment: The Death of an Obsession and Other Remedies for a Fragmented Mind. Within all of my writings; the underlying theme is healing. True healing comes from the internal, not the external; consequently, sometimes we need permission from the external, in order for the internal to heal itself.

So many nights I have killed myself to destruction. I shake from the catastrophe that is my mind. The anxiety is ever present, I think I was born with it. Born of what? Blood that has no history, nor a future? What was the point? A mistake that was never remedied. Now, the son has come around to break this mind through the teeth of indolence. The only chastity which will ever exist within this minded mind is absolute defecation. You cannot fix a mind once it is broken. You must relinquish it from which it came. Discard it in the usual manor. You cannot recycle putrid thoughts which have no home. It cannot be undone, kill the thoughts. Once I become consumed within the putrid ambiance, the anxiety goes away. I am not sure if it completely goes away, maybe I just stop thinking about it for a while. That is what I need to do: stop thinking.

Known only to you. The words of blood and contempt. You bury yourself into my deathbed. I dug you up. There is only room for me. Alone. A place for one. No one ever came for me. No one ever knew me. I speak truth. No one believes me. I lie. My words are gospel. I am not your salvation. I am your forgotten distraction. Pain in my jaw. I talk too much. I grind my words with my teeth before I speak them. My words will be easier for you to swallow.

Death lives within us; from the moment we enter this mortal coil, to the moment of our release from this maze of ordered chaos. When death introduces herself to you, the realization of her presence is known; she has been quietly waiting here with you this whole time. Death is a quiet lover. Make no mistake, death is a feminine energy. Death is the rebirth of life. You never thought about that before, did you? Most of the sheeple never do. Death is a marvelous spectacle, through the ever-loving eyes of the Expression. The energy and the power, which is purged from a human at the moment of death; this is the life-giving power. Once the life-giving power is exorcised from the body, the rhapsodic vibrations flow through you, with dimensions of ecstasy never known by most high-level magi. This is when the Expression will violently pulsate through you, wanting, and needing more.

In life when you tell a lie, no matter how big or how small the lie is, you live those lies out in death. Your consciousness lives out all of your lies, until you have come to terms with the effects of those lies, and how they have played out through your lifetime. Some lie to get out of trouble, as some lie to save someone’s feelings from being hurt. Some lie because they like to steal. The reasons are endless, as to why one will lie to another, but mainly to themselves. Profoundly, when one lies, they ultimately forsake themselves. When truth is not pleasing to the consciousness which is hearing it; the subconscious knows it is a lie. Your subconscious is intertwined into your Spirit/Soul. Your subconscious needs closure, from the reality the Spirit/Soul has recently departed from. It can only move on once it is cleansed from these negative vibrations, which hold it back from ascension.

With this life. With this strife. Cleanse my veins. With all your pains. Numb with no emotion. Blind with no devotion. I am hidden in a riddle. I am the one who let life die.

There is a struggle within me. A light against the darkness within The Sub-Soul frame of mind. Everything goes blank. I keep running motionless. I refuse to feel guilty. Just this one time. The guilt has died. I am witness to the resurrection. Wanting to escape. Sick of wanting.

Ritual. To bring forth my destiny. I am ready to begin the rest of my life. I possess the individuals. Create a unity of independence at the alter. Not enough time to heal. Could not even heal. Did not have time. Where are these feelings coming from? Allowing my thoughts to strangle me. Now you know what I think about all day. Nothing without love.

I could not tell her everything. Time and restraint were in the way. I cannot share all of my secrets with her. She will know too much. Fear damage scrape clean. Start over. A new mind. A clean mind. Get all the grit out. It is good to talk. Sometimes more is said without using words.

Fear of failure. Afraid of becoming nothing. Wasting thoughts on wasted thoughts. I do the best I can. Nothing works out. I try different ways. Nothing works out. I stopped trying. I really did. Now I do. I fail until I do. It might be a lot of wasted time. Time is all you have when you have nothing. Nothing is something. Something that may never leave you alone. Always hanging over you. Laughing at you when you fall down. Laugh back at it. Let it know you are its master.

Anger. Frustration. Desperate. Sweat swimming all over my body. I had never felt that low in my entire life. You kicked me out onto the street. I walked all of the streets within the city that day. I could not stop walking. I kept going until I was going to pass out. I still kept walking. People were looking strangely at me. I did not care. I was walking. Enough exercise for a lifetime. I was walking away from something. Uncertain of what I was walking towards. The only place I could not walk was away from myself.

Helpless. Not at all. My brain is trying to kill me, but other than that I am fine. Fucked up insecure neurotic and emotional. Not at all. I can control my emotions. Really. I can control them only if I do not get angry. Is not anger an emotion? It is, but it mostly is not. How so?Anger for me is not really an emotion, it is more of what I give to someone when they need it or deserve it. So, now you know what others need. No. What are you trying to say? I am not trying to say anything I am going to show you how perfectly my hands fit around your neck.

The slow stagnancy will creep and seep into your life; straight down through you, right into your cold, sore, core. It will allow you to glimpse into your own reality; into all of your own distinct and deliberate ways of inconsistency. A psychological festering within the trident of your emotional values. None of it was ever meant to be difficult or easy; it was just meant to be. Your outlook upon the trident, is a direct reflection of your outlook onto yourself. The three ways. The three days. The three nights of sights and being. None of it should matter at this point. There is only you and I now. The past has been erased by your current mistakes. Only the future knows the absolute truth about you; consequently, your future is going to be the death of you.

You were talking to me about spirituality. On how spiritual you are. How you talk to God everyday. Looking for your calling. There is a higher calling for you. Yet you are still trying to figure out your life’s purpose as you aggressively chain smoke all of my cigarettes with your crooked fingers. What did those cigarettes ever do to you? I guess you will find all of life’s answers within that pack? You are looking for answers everywhere other than where they are. Maybe you will find your way when you get out of your way? Maybe you will remain lost until you find your deathbed. I hear all questions are answered in death. Where is the spirituality in searching? Within? Where do the lies of illusion live? Without? Where do we exist? We do not.