you are too inert for the hushed sadness that is coiled around your center, it is ok, you will either suffocate from its atomic complexities or you will breathe hot breaths and it will wither, it is ok, either method offers the bond of freedom ---- go to the doctor, drive recklessly, ease into a position of absolute & holiest vulnerability on the dirty maroon living room carpet of a complete stranger, gently touching your skin, your fingers - each finger, the entire length of bone and sinew and tissue and the softness of your palms, your nose, your collarbones, your fragments, breathe the soft air with a vigor that will give way to a multitude of tears, familiarize yourself with your arm span, go on walks in the sensuous heat and languor in the grass vaguely aware of fire ants, acknowledge the fleeting beauty of each moment, do not search for meaning, sift through moments shuddering with beauty, hike through the an unfamiliar forest and eat cold oranges at the base of a creek, stop aimlessly censoring and correcting your mistakes and typographical errors, trespass, appreciate with an unnamed fondness the smell of burning weed and tobacco, be an explorer, god, i hope you claw your way out of this haze and begin your exploration, start slowly and go on a road trip and do not take a map, dance through empty parking lots, learn to fire a fucking rifle, travel, visit small towns and walk their borders, contemplate ghosts, tangible events and their intangible scorch marks, emblazoned seedlings, devour orange popsicles on the steps of courthouses, allowing the juice to flow, unrestricted, down your thighs and calves and chest and chin, dress wildly, learn to play the banjo, laugh maniacally in the face of your insecurities, purchase fake tits anyway - because goddammit, you've always wanted them, memorize sensory perceptions, learn the names of flora, become a voyeur and listen intently to the rhythms of the universe, escape this listless boredom, escape your self induced monotony, do not yield a fuck for the insipid opinions of others, "sing, burn, flee, like a belfry at the hands of a madman" let things go, acknowledge the inevitability of loss, how it cannot be sundered from life, yearn wildly for things you will never own, do not yearn for beauty - man always wants to acquire and possess beauty in a way that is oppressive and terrible, live with echoes, live with a resonance, with furious intent, paint, collect, write, sing, dream, yes, dream, weep, lose, bray, wound and wonder, always wonder, do not let the years slip mindlessly and idly by, please, i will allow you your innate sorrow but i refuse a life wasted in the anticipation of marvels
August 18th, 2011 at 04:42am