There is an abundance of beauty underneath all of this ash we have covered most things in. Just a byproduct of a wave of destruction that has rolled on through. As we go further we begin to see the beauty once more. Away from the stupid metaphors that don’t even really make sense. I think life is beautiful, mostly because I say it is. Beauty is often perverted by someone who doesn’t understand. Flowers are picked and captured only to wilt away. Women are called beautiful but only seen through the eyes of arousal. Porn is ugly and disgusting because it literally penetrates the heart of beauty. Sex itself should not be seen in such a way as it becomes just another abused addiction. A junkie is made, a perverted freak that doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. Sorry for saying it like that but why dance around. It really does feel shitty when you can’t even look someone in the eyes. When you get so nervous because you have violated her in your mind. So much beauty is put into a box, made a slave to you and what you think is right. We do not force our love upon someone, nor do we even go their in our minds. We are sick, we think it’s normal to be this way. It should be sad to see these women led down the wrong path. Showing themselves off in the way that think they are wanted. We shouldn’t tolerate such a life for each other. It isn’t even about us man, why keep it so isolated. I’m a lonely guy and cry about it sometimes, so who am I fooling. Even a lone wolf, their is no such thing. Animals will share food in which they have to chase down to eat. What the fuck is our excuse for being so cold to each other? I am a hateful man but it’s the ash covering the beautiful sliver that still remains. You have to protect it, so many just grow numb in the middle and die nothing. Who are you at 20 years old or 18 years old to say life doesn’t matter? I’m 23 and I haven’t seen shit. I know there’s a lot still out there that would cause a stir inside. Shit if it’s someone to love, how am I gonna do that when I’m dead? It’s like missing out on a party, I’m so nervous but I will never hear the music if I’m covering my ears. You have to live in order to die, you are here now. Hey, if you don’t want to do it, you already know the other options.
Damn I’m so glad to hear it, I worry I’m getting too intense with it. I just think of this so much and I really care. I just want people to see that in my words, not a hateful man pointing the finger. I punish myself every time I forget what matters. I know love isn’t something you commit halfway to. I lost someone so very close because of my own mistakes. I just don’t want this beauty to die to this artificial world.
I somehow can't see that happening. You are clearly a very passionate person whose heart is in the right place and expressing yourself in this way is cathartic for you. It's important to get things out and this platform offers people a safe space to do just that, so I say kudos to you for having the courage to open up in the way you have. I really like the last couple of lines where you say "how can I experience life if I'm too scared to go out there and live it?" That, in effect, you are born dead if you don't step up and find the courage to do what you were put here to do...to live, to experience. But similarly, you are experiencing. We are experiencing what we are experiencing every moment. The question is, which experience is it that you want to be having, because the choice is ultimately up to you. It always has been and always will be.
My friend I do say such a thing as I make sure I am serious. Passion is my life’s blood, my reason for wanting to live day after day. Love is passion to me and extends like a web. The downside I will share is the paranoia, the rage, and the intense mood swings. Passion is all consuming for me, it is the crutch of my life and the catapult. Such a want to live, to wrap my hands around and hold on. Death is very passionate as I find it is our great equalizer. The thought that really stops you in your tracks. The day where you have taken your last breath. It’s beautiful and intense, terrifying, and very much real. Passion is fueled with death, with the realization that I will one day not be able to love as I once have. It really does slap you back, make you look in the mirror and say “what am I doing”
