' Aloneness pierces each pore ~ from the inside out, ~ the foul stench returns, ~ I am dying '
Perhaps we become what we're meant to become, Ego and all. Life wipes its feet on our spirits Some see or feel that as a force, doomed to that aloneness, fighting a war with self, ' .. wrenches my gut ~ adds petrol to the fire ~ called fear ~
thankful I am, ~ there is no-one.' Seems the Ego rattles its chains and more often or not, survives!
E you write with great intention now and again with gentle,. romantic or amusing titbits between. With this, you've crumbled thoughts and laid them before your readers so they can lick the index tip and pick up what remains. As with life and its shoved-in egotism - certainly the thoughts are m and indelicate but again.. is what's on offer. Perhaps.
I really like that line. It makes me think - how is that possible? wouldn't it require another ego to replace it? Or does one get rid of the ego by contemplating the hand of one hand clapping?
Like how it's sorta stream of thought, abrupt in some places, jagged, but connected by the liquid 'sewer' ''petrol' fountain' metaphor, leaking, poring, gushing
My eye sight is draining away like a leak from a sewage leak, so it was a bit rough for me to read this in such a tiny font, but I did make it through haha
Nevertheless, I always did your writes and your style.
I love these lines. When people spend their lives ruled by materialism and suddenly wake up, a lifetime may not seem enough to dethrone that ego. Love the color of your thoughts dear author, makes one ponder and pause about the ungraspable things, yet so desired, so desired...
dying inside, dying in the heart...the will to live draining and it feels like all sewage...nothing clean left...nothing to live for....life over before it is actually over...this slow draining feels like Anne Sexton...feels like.
Verbal gymnastics and woeful courts, full of life-size chess pieces beating each other to a pulp over every "move" made... Wonderful, deep, throbbing darkness... Islands and isolation... With ego this was... Not penned...
'The kernel, the soul — let us go further and say the substance, the bulk, the actual and valuable material of all human utterances — is plagiarism. For substantially all ideas are sec.. more..