Let’s be blunt! I don’t need any topic to disguise it at all.
But on second thought I don’t think I’m capable of that anymore.
Every word is layered and assessed as to whether it’s worth leaving.
I’m not sure what it’s like to put your guard down, or why you would ever want to. And if I did I don’t remember it.
We love to act as though it’s wrong to have trust issues but it should be the default… people leave themselves too exposed.
It stupefies me coming across those who don’t find their trust yet misused.
Maybe it’s about a feeling of pride in the end. I mean if one really considers their position in the world… just looking up at the stars, thinking about the giants of the past. The mechanical worlds yet shown.
I can’t say what’s on my mind because that means owning the effects, seeing it wear you down, seeing it manifest into something sinister.
When you first start bottling up it feels like a chokehold, but now it’s a closed blind – a blanket to forget yourself under. Tighten your backpack straps as you walk through the smokey exits, other hallways, hovering faces darkened and waiting to devour.
Choke up enough to find yourself with your spiked teeth, waiting to devour.
If you want to know someone, you don’t need to hear anything about their past and supposed future: it’s how they are right now. It’s how they act right in front of you; that’s the whole story. Every twitch shows an episode and a thread that makes up their condition.
Reading Swedenborg he spun a tale of angels knowing the whole composition of a person just through a flick of the wrist. Just through a step. Just through a finger lift. That finger lift revealing their entire life – how all the causes lead up to that movement, revealed at once. All causes known, all effects shown. A single glance deconstructing everything.
Though we may not run into angels in everyday… I think it still holds for us. You eventually find someone out. But I’m going to continue to hide everything despite that, despite how it’ll show up someday. You can’t hide who you are. It’s not as though there’ll be people to hide from, it seems. It’s more probable to continue bottling until it is all devoured. And whatever faucet this place is will soon overflow and I may just delete it (again and again and again and again and again).
Blind trust is a most beautifully strung lie we all tell one another. You trust because you have a deposit and you’re going to cash out eventually, won’t you? How much do you have stored here?
Innocence misleads, most certainly. The only other thing is to shed the scabs when they do show up, or to make your body all cloudy so no knives leave a blemish – quickly covered with a shift of wind.
I remember passing so many bodies in the few clubs I did bother to go to. Pulling out those sunk deeper in who I tagged along, as though the center is the ritual waiting for the sacrifice of consciousness. And no number of shots rectifies.
Sticky floors from spilt drink. Half-closed eyes hoping you pull yourself deeper into their abyss.
I don’t need the nightlights about to remind me the inner world stuffed in each of you, waiting to shout out!
It starts young, doesn’t it? It starts young, but you would’ve wished it started at birth. A lot less tears for elementary school. A lot less misunderstandings.
When are you going to cash out of here? What deposit do you want to make? What colour is your vacancy sign?
The bubblegum parts folded up and still hold close along my arteries - and each sphere floats around the few sites I bother to visit, the few ocean waves I bother to listen for, the few sunsets I remember and look for. Paint it a neon teal to match the waves.
Isn’t every sentence another wall for the maze? Or a story left unsaid. One could detail a motel visit of ‘05 or the flight over Atlantis. Tacky gift shops with assurances that you did visit the right place and postcards to assure those you want to know you know they know you’re having a good time. Dragging my hand along the dew of the riverside, because the cold startles me and places me back here – any more heat and I’ll fall out of this body. But not enough to forget how to guard!
You don’t need trust. You just need mutual understanding.
A simple question: what do you want to do together? What do you get out of it, and what do I? is what you can think to yourself. If it’s vague or wishy-washy and easily replaceable for any other flesh then it means nothing, is what I think!
Start your expedition and choose your crew wisely!
What skills will you give in turn?
Having a skillset is best way to belong… there’s no need for shriveled flatteries like how you have the oldest soul.
There’s no need for old souls if the soul forgot everything and still bumps along the same rhythm.
What value can we provide one another? That’s a more productive line of thought than building trust.
Provide enough value and just maybe you’ll unveil your own gold strands.