Ad Absurdum & Beyond

Musing #15

I have a cough. 
Not a small light cough. No, when my body seeks to punish me, it does so. Thoroughly. I have an old man’s hacking. It attacks me and demands the possession of every limb and digit. It scraps the inside of my ribs and racks every organ that lies between my collar bone and pelvic bone. It shakes me down to the marrow, forcing me up and awake so that my hands shake violently and I wonder how an earthquake made its way into me. This is no lady’s cough. No, This is a damning, throat-rawing, fog horn loud barking cough. And it sucks! I curse whatever shitty little deity thought it prudent or amusing to bestow this on me. 
"It was both passion and desperate distraction."

Musing #14

She has become who she needed to be to take care of what she cared about most. I don’t blame her. She paid the costs, she felt  were worth paying. She discarded her past to preserve her sanity and hold onto her vision of whats to come. I neither blame, nor hate her. I understand that she sees the only way she can through her own filters.

And though I can understand, it does not negate my pain, when she cannot understand me or why I do what I do, and I am not so strong as to not react from that pain.So while I can understand, I can not yet speak from the same place as you. I am too hurt to stand in the shoes that have kicked me. And I can not yet forgive that you do not try to stand in mine.
"Some hurts define us, some hurts are worth the pain, if it means getting to stand where you now stand."

Product, Prisoner, part.

I am a product of my time, 

of the places I’ve been, 
of the people I’ve known.
I am never to be completed product,
A process that shall end only when I die
A know this.
I am a pinpoint on a multi axis graph 
the axis lines are both box borders and contributors
I know this.
I am a product of it after all.
Whats more as far as I can see
I may very well dependent on it.
But though I know the truth of my reality
And just because I can see the box lines
doesn’t mean I know how to leave it
I am a product of it.
I am a prisoner of it.
I am a part of it.

There’s a hollowness I can’t explain.
An emptiness I can not ignore.
There is a transcendence that I crave,
That no earthly incarnation of pleasure
Or success
Can satisfy or suffice
A sense of something more that whispers in my bones
And haunts my every breath.
"I need to learn to pay homage to the wilder gods of my nature."


I had heard she was good,
Knew she was respected,
But damn her. For being better
Than I could ever aspire to.
She has turned banality to beauty.
And damn her for doing so.
And grasping my admiration, 
so firmly with her long gone hands.
How can thoughts be so worded,
So beyond the mundane,
When only the mundane world,
Could be her source.
Envy is my body’s bitter companion,
When my eyes suck her words off the page.
It prefers best to perch
With a sickly feeling to the right 
Of my heart.
Other times it makes itself comfortable
In my stomachs pit.
On occasion my awe of her talent 
Can chase it away,
But often, the two feelings prefer
To sit side by side,
Blasted buggers that they be.
Still I pick up her works,
And revisit my favorite gut wrenching verses.
Because they deserve to be read,
and are difficult to forget.
Ambivalent ire they may provoke in me
but its an apt price to pay.
"The worst way to die, is with a kiss on your lips."
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