Raskolnikov
Bluelighter
From all my experience uncomplete as it may be, I have come to understand the folly of fabricating expressible ideas to explicate free flowing formless thought. I have been taught that there is some kind of darkness in defining these demons within. Brotesquely grinning at my attempted communication, these minions of madness then proceed to impead upon my mind. Unleashing vociferous rationalization and theorization, building this upon that. Higher and higher this construction, or induction as it may well be, rapidly writes itself lead by my thoughts or...
maybe not.
Then the conction totters and waves. Collapes and crumbles. And I am left stumbling, fumbling, and mumbling, surrounded by wretched wreckage. Kicking some lonesome stone to and fro. Dejected and downcast, my shadow shows me no solution, my lofty forms and essences have become losting the present, falling to the floor in chaos and disarray. Despite what I say, what I have said, I continue to bleed because the barriers still bar my way.
So, in defining these demons which haunt my mind, in trying to understand their kind of crime so I may release them from this consciousness, I am merely manipulated to madness and sadness by MY catestrophoc creation. I am not controling anything at all.
But I will not fall victim any longer.
No. I am growing stronger again. Because finally I find folly in this fabrication, this fascining of words and names to that which I despise. The answer is this--> the demons will continue to glare from that gapeing abyss in the ground, thus it is futile to force them away. Starting today I shall challendge one at a time. Spitting no rhyme, just trying to sheild the blows and foster the wounds, lashing back only of necessity. I seek no meek victory today or tomorrow, but wish to follow this path away from sorrow.
It's a bit much I know, but I wrote this the morning after a crazy acid trip and my head was kinda full.
maybe not.
Then the conction totters and waves. Collapes and crumbles. And I am left stumbling, fumbling, and mumbling, surrounded by wretched wreckage. Kicking some lonesome stone to and fro. Dejected and downcast, my shadow shows me no solution, my lofty forms and essences have become losting the present, falling to the floor in chaos and disarray. Despite what I say, what I have said, I continue to bleed because the barriers still bar my way.
So, in defining these demons which haunt my mind, in trying to understand their kind of crime so I may release them from this consciousness, I am merely manipulated to madness and sadness by MY catestrophoc creation. I am not controling anything at all.
But I will not fall victim any longer.
No. I am growing stronger again. Because finally I find folly in this fabrication, this fascining of words and names to that which I despise. The answer is this--> the demons will continue to glare from that gapeing abyss in the ground, thus it is futile to force them away. Starting today I shall challendge one at a time. Spitting no rhyme, just trying to sheild the blows and foster the wounds, lashing back only of necessity. I seek no meek victory today or tomorrow, but wish to follow this path away from sorrow.
It's a bit much I know, but I wrote this the morning after a crazy acid trip and my head was kinda full.
