VERY nice Coolgamer
I especially enjoyed the last two!
but I really liked these excerpts:
"They talked of change and beauty.
They talked of love and peace.
They talked about money and power,
and then they went back to sleep."
"Hour by hour, day by day, spend your life always just running away.
Never stay in one spot, never take a pause, lest you end up impaled on
sharp claws, and no one will notice, much less care, because why would
the world miss one... small... hare.
So keep running, little one, like all others do, for you can never be one of
the privileged few, that make the rules, that decide what you do,
control your life and your family's too."
I can't wait to read more from you- you should keep posting!
: yes, that is considered literature.
and very good and well thought out litt-at that!
and for the most part, I agree with you.....
I agree that being depressed- or rather, questioning and thinking deeply-
can bring about a clearer understanding of things, and therefore- wisdom.
however, I also think that, just as people misconceive that there is
something "wrong" with you if you're depressed, it can also be a
misconception that people that are depressed are always examining
themselves and trying to understand themselves and are somehow
"better" than the average joe, and THAT'S why they are depressed..
and whereas I AM often looking inward, I do not believe that that ability
is unique to depression sufferers, and although I find that I am usually
able to connect my feelings of fear and self-loathing to experiences in my
past- that understanding does not keep my mind from bashing it's way
through the thin hymen of self-esteem that is in a constant state of disarray,
or keep me from sinking so low that I may become dangerously close to suicide.
In other words, regardless if an understanding of "WHY" can be
established- the symptoms may still be very much present...
which leads me to believe that no amount of wisdom nor understanding
of the self, chemical makeup, or cause can fully cure a mental illness.
it is my belief that I am no more "blessed" or "special" than any other person,
has the ability to examine oneself and their purpose in this world...
and perhaps gain wisdom b/c of that introspection.
*be warned I often purposely do not rhyme in my stuffs-
b/c sometimes, it's harder to make things sound good without rhyming*
first my most recent writing rambling:
"Early Morning Rambling
Hierarchy is the channel I swim,
lost deep within the recesses of collective pools,
where travesties and treachery reside.
Here is the sanctity of family.
here are the tides that bind us to this world.
Are we so desperate that we guide ourselves with fools?
I've met with bitter remorse,
those that would fashion themselves by others standards.
Still smiling, condescendingly to the ground.
Embracing mediocrity in favor of flourishing,
regretting, submitting, and relinquishing free will.
Station yourself on planet Jerusalem..
Thrive on the blood and body.
Acceptance is worth fighting for,
They love to love their own.
I hate to hate myself.
Pick a corner and go punish yourself...
you know the word of which I speak.
So if you know so well....
if you've lived that lie...
then tell us all about it.
you already have.
because we love to hate our lives.
It's a celebration of birth!
and you're not invited- you babeless cunt.
you can't ever relate to us!
regardless of your relation to us.
a woman without child...
don't question me.
Only a mother...
can know another mother.
my blood runs cold.
my skin decays.
as the cockroaches dig trenches
into the dried up heap of dirt,
I sometimes mistakenly accredit
as a self.
*prepare for ultimate suckitude, this is old
(imagine, if you will, a weird combo of Fiona Apple
and the Birthday Massacre with random industrial undertones (kinda like android lust)..
Hold back the tears,
fight them all off-
Crystallize the emotions
that you've felt for so long.
Deny them your pain
and they'll accept what you're not...
So hold your fucking tongue!
I've never felt so alive-
even when I can't breath.
through the faces I wear,
I think I'm starting to see-
that the only one who can reach me-
the only one who can fucking reach me-
the only one who can reach me-
sisters of skin,
I've given all I could muster-
and for that bowl of shit-
I've gotten nothing but blisters.
Symptoms of lust-
I'm feeling cold and alone-
I need someone to hold-