I didn't make it.
I've died a long time ago.
I remember being alive
and it scares me so.
Now I'm a waking demon
walking among wolves.
I see your laughters & tears.
They are my entertainment.
There's a place called, "
After Death Before Dark".
I see you there but
you're so so far.
Is it me or the
lack of a spark?
For an ordinary day,
the fire that consumes us?
Author: hotsurf
Like to travel, read, play cello etc.
Inner light.
The wind is a coat that I wear.
She holds my hand, makes me aware.
Half moon, mid night, all quiet except
what's there and not there like I.
Search for the light that I lost with fear.
I don't believe my life's worth anything.
Regrets, outbursts, silence, jealousy,
hold on to an evil when he promises things.
It's not a path but a mad dash to shore.
Will I make it? Did you make it? Tell me more.
The things I shy away turn out to be what I need.
What I was afraid of was the inner light
that tells me that I'm loved & I can live.
The full weight of my heart.
Feels like a bomb wrapped in lead
and tender like a missile in the air.
I try to juggle it knowing it will land
on a sunny day & it's gonna be a mess.
The full weight of my heart ain't no joke.
It's formless, sluggish yet sharp.
Sometime I wish it will be quiet
and doesn't know what it truly desires.
Sink.
Throwing stone into the heart
so it sinks, nobody can find it.
Mama says it's better this way.
Dada says it's all fake.
It's drowning & hella heavy.
The tide is all confused & muddy.
All because of the occasional pebble
that nobody bothered to deal with.
Now we have a mountain of trash
with the lost pieces of a child
at the bottom.
Cry baby II.
I cry when I'm tired and during sex.
It's my natural state, raining from my eyes.
With the Harvest Heart shining & bright.
And the lonely wolf howling at the night.
Running blind.
Fuck it.
It keeps calling.
So fucking annoying.
But the longer I ignore it,
the faster I die.
I wish to learn nothing
from this world,
other than:
to step away from the ego
and move closer to the soul.
Fucking sucks ass though.
I want cookies.
I eat chocolate covered frozen bananas until I want to puke.
My chickens don't care if I'm naked or clothed.
I watched a movie I don't understand & nobody does really.
Unless you think too hard & that's not cool.
Nothings stops anywhere anyway so why bother to yield.
Maybe you are right.
I think I’ve gone crazy a long time ago.
I’ve been trying to keep it under control. Cheers.
I’m sorry, you are not my mother.
A mother doesn't weight her baby
for her own future calculations.
In her narrow & deserted mind
that's narcissistic, neurotic & blind.
I put my anchor around you
and you stumps around looking for
a good use for a daughter who's
valued cheap, a burden until
a willing slave. I'm sorry but
you're not a mother. I have
to learn to love somewhere else.
The pot that's cooking in you
has always been poison & tar
and you share it by receipts.
I had to learn to protect myself
against a self-hatred that ran wild.
You're not my mother. I think
there's always someone else.
Our shrine.
I make a shrine for myself
when I'm lonely when it's crowded
when I'm strong when I'm weepy.
I make a shrine to myself
when I'm naked when I'm trashy
because why not while washing dishes
I say a prayer to the shrine
"you're in the seat of rightful divinity"
and there's enough space for you & me
so don't rush just let it be.
I make this shrine for myself
to prove I love you after all.
hotsurf_ 