It feels like everything is being taken away from me. Everything I never cared about. Being replaced by secret things I am ecstatic about. I have an endless supply of secret hobbies and books that must be read. Secret thoughts that must be expressed. Both the bored and the dead things have begun to shun me. To peel away like dead skin. I understand what is happening all around me and I am thankful. Still as I grab on to the lost like cold wet clothes that have been discarded after walking home in the rain. Do I miss anything I do not have? Do I desire to be closer to anyone? I do, but is that a real feeling? Or one of those things people say is the right thought to have. My madness has freed me from so many of my burdens. I still feel unknowable guilt. But the disconnection, I crave it. Seeing the world at a distance and still knowing I am part of it. Ticking away deep in my heart. What can be taken away anyhow? Is it not all an answered prayer? Should we really watch what we ask for? Or ask away knowing you just might...well...have to get it. I am drunk with hope and alcohol. And yes I still judge every person I have ever loved. I think they are all liars and insincere with every movement. Is that a reflection of me? I have never really gotten over my need to judge every single word said to me by my friends and enemies. Do I really have enemies?
I feel distant and everyone else looks closer to the others as they have ever been. Tittered to strangers in hopes of forgetting themselves. And it worked. Many seem to have a forced amnesia. Why I sit here and remember then react and judge. Pushing digital words out of a keyboard like pregnant women having miscarriages. To me it is better to be among highly intellectual strangers and dying rock stars with a boner for it all and nothing. Bleeding gurus dreaming of a psychedelic past they never were old enough to participate in. I follow masters of doctrines long ago forgotten, especially by them. I create art while some are archaic. But the rituals must be done. The songs must be sung and I must remember all I have forgotten. In order to appreciate my own life. Learning sympathy for strangers is a classic thought of mine. But what does it bring? Something, it all brings something. But if one stares enough at anything does it not become grotesque?
What are we really but spinning astronauts. Is that even a right way of seeing things? Why look for a way anyhow? Why not just mow down a path to the dreaming? I see the things I dream in my daily life. That is all it has ever been. Does that make the entire world a dream come true? Is that dear readers, the reason it is all happening right now? We can believe in it all. Have it all. Know it all and see it for what it is. Beautiful, unknowable life. Yet still we may wonder. Is this truly an ancient miracle? Inside of me something is starting to boil. Father was right to tell me to abandon it all. Every action is unnecessary. For the real magic happens in between our own actions. We the power visualizers....do not force the force upon the world. We live among the thoughts and see them for what they are. Invisible strings pulling us towards the nothingness. Insanity on one hand, great clarity on the other. Never shall the two meet without real compassion. The kind we are suppose to have for ourselves. Beyond this there may be nothing or something alien to me. Why does creativity weigh on me so? Why must I think and think and think? Why must I never forget? Remembrance of things long ago considered. Comparing and contrasting to see if it all fits together. What story is this I am living? How long must I spin on a giant ocean towards a giant ball of gas?
This is Josalisa live from Planet RiOt.
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