To Service

At this time, that I’m writing this, I am suffering. My mental health is deteriorating and I feel like I’m losing myself. I feel so low and feel like I need someone to talk to. But, seeing as my problems are so tedious, I’d only push those close to me away. It always tend to happen. I don’t know.

I need to serve, and it’s my drug. Both in the abstract/idea realm and the real, physical realm. It feels like we’re all struggling with real-life at the moment. I feel such pain driven by confusion, frustration, misalignment. I sought adventure and deviation and now I’ve found loss. I’m lost. Don’t know how to get back — Don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.

People seem to continually advocate for submersion and compliance. But I only seek participation. I just want to help and a reason to be alive. A reason to do, a reason to think, a reason to create. Values. I want a mind that focuses on things in the real world instead of just abstract topics. At least finding places that facilitate this. I am God and God is me but I’m not here.

I need to have reasons to go outside. I don’t need to completely live in the city, but give myself opportunities to open my mind. I need a way to function in the city. Why do I want to? I want to have an effect on this planet, and I can’t just do it sitting in my room. I can’t be human by staying in my room. I guess, allowing myself to be flawed.

I need to change my relationship to the environments outside my home and around my home. I need purpose and to feel safe. I need nourishment. It’s hard for me to even feel like I should have emotions. I cherish intuitions but not my emotions or mental health. I just want balance. To explore and to retreat. But what do I have to explore? If my mission is to serve, what’s my bliss? Chasing the sun? I want to be centred. Able to move or stay. Whatever I prefer. I must find my own way of communicating and processing.

I’m sad. I have to expand. I need to change but I don’t know how.

My life is getting reshuffled.

Scratch and Sniff

Hey there,
smoker
what's happened
to the moaner,
broke first
the
line
that broke
the puff in 
the first
place
til
now an'
pushed me to the
brink of death in
the first pl-
STOP!
LOOK AT ME HERE
IN aLL My ...
glOrRey!!
puff. . . oh ok.
That's cool
let's go

I thirst for more

Detriment
---------Falling
----------------Body Parts
The Fall continues

Darkness's will haunts in translucence
Letting you see what you're losing
As you fall deeper into the pit

-----------------------------------------Escapism
--------------------------------No chance
-----------------------Incubated
The Cycle remains fixed

Ghosts sing songs of self-hatred
Their siren chants spread their hollow form
The sparkle of their tears dazzles their victim

Forgetfulness
-------------Draining
---------------------Resources
The Personal Power sleeps

One stays isolated, trapped, in a world with bars made of perception
Heavy, is the crown of thoughts and feelings
My actions do not show my screams, but my habits do show my night terrors

---------------------------------------------------------Starched
-------------------------------------------------Brooding
----------------------------Swelling of the heart
The Insecurity self-sustains

The dreams awaken the eyes
Moments of introversion revelate
Prison becomes sanctuary
The Waters That Be induce chemical reactions

Light to water, water to body

Sugar

So — here again,
Strange — as always,
Café — in french? typical,
Funny — how we always meet at the stroke of each minute,
Almost — like the last time was a past life,
It Begins — A new encounter each time,
Hugging — at the frontier of a new life, each existence,
Sweet — is the moment, the fruit we eat, the coffee we drink,
The things we say — the moments we share

The tranquility within the chaos

"The rubble lies at the castle's wake!"
and the bishop grows a garden in the blood
Missionary tales paint caustic consequences -
crunching men like chocolate
From one end — to another,
the peace we hold holds us from the peace we seek
There is no fight, no victory, but an end to the massacre
Unshaken peace becomes comfort
Unawakened comfort becomes sleep
Sleep becomes death
If vigour will cause me to live then
let my blood bubble like wine
The work is in the ease and in the fear
To go beyond what is known to my shadow
Moving into somewhere with no forward
The chaos that swallows, and jails with its teeth
No mercy can be given without retribution
Those who stay in the shroud, cry and laugh
They are now jackals, guard dogs
to the world of the broken
Once the illusion is dissolved
The Pearl of Peace shall fall at your feet
Glowing, in the castle's wake.

The potential has been actualised

The stars continue to fluster
may I come into your view?
The soul looks dark tonight
But the mind looks bright today
A child is born but never birthed
The produce, the milk of the universal radiation
The microwaves wash me of doubt
they wash me of happiness
The power to fall has been realised
White has now found black
My eyes see now instead of my thoughts
The artist's imagination blocks his intuition
To create he must become free
To succeed he must learn how to be

Vermillion

Every time my heart is broken,
Love spills out
and pure blood's on the floor —
bubbling like soup,
it fizzles out,
the spark dies,
and the patch stains,
soaking into the cracks of the bedroom carpet.
What must must I do?
I can't carry it in my hands.
It'll only get taken away.

It’s Cool

It’s okay to be silent
You don’t always have to talk
Only talk when it means something
You can’t control how other people feel
You’re not rude for taking care of yourself
Find peace within yourself
Learn to enjoy just being
Enjoy the silence, the clarity

if you don’t want to talk, don’t talk.

You are in control.

That’s What it’s Like

Imagine ghosts haunting you day and night
and you’re the only one that can see them
They can touch you
but you can’t touch them, and
The only way to move them away
is to be okay with seeing ghosts

That’s what mental illness is like.

Wednesday Night in London

I love the smell of a cold, rainy night
so brittle, the air freezes in my nostrils
It’s sobering in a way
with my lamp on and I, with my head poking out my window
a great time to smoke
But I quit last week
The music of the raindrops will suffice
The moisture turns the estate into wetlands
I can smell the earth three stories high
It’s consoling in a way
With my record playing and I, sitting here writing this poem.