post 420 aura cleanse
So old and wise have forgotten
In the mold of our eyes while senses turn rotten
so I ask you if you can still hear
Can you catch in your ear a young mother’s soft sighing?
Believe when you hear of two great teachers dying?
And if you are the one who stands crying,
“I’m so tired of my human skin,
Pardon me while I molt.”
Then shake your feathers out, grey and black and covered
with Sunday morning cartoons
it’s time to emerge from the chrysallis
you paper macheed
around your body in the third grade.
repeal your prefrontal cortex’s position as perpetual prisoner in a pickle jar
the science fair is over baby
and there’s just nothing left
you’ve God to do
I am clawing at myself right now
chewing and biting my astral flesh
scraping and tearing because fuck me if I need to bleed
I feel an intangible sense there are nails being drawn across a chalk board
there is an insufferable itch in the center of my back
and I always scratch it the same old way
the same old fucking way and I just
can’t get comfortable anymore
I want to scream
I go now to smoke.
Ready to face myself and pull on blind intuition
let me run straight through my fire
the flame cannot consume me for I am the flame
raw and real and true
and FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU if my art is pain then let it be pain
I own my pain
would I rather feel this, than the nothing of bliss?
where bliss is blank do I scream to scribble?
destroy what does not serve you, transcend the limits you have created for yourself
fractals on fractals on fractals
A picture is worth a thousand words. When you see this you’ll know why.
Very cool project. I will go forth and see.
and so the bird thought on her miserable lot,
asking how it could be, when so blessed.
But a beautiful cage, and a livable wage, are still but a cage nonetheless.