This is what happens when
the
Bottom Falls out and the sky
pukes
Rotted Stars;
with
Nowhere to Turn In My Moment
of
Doubt.
Is there any Difference?
(Between Memories and
Scars.)
This is what happens when
the
Bottom Falls out and the sky
pukes
Rotted Stars;
with
Nowhere to Turn In My Moment
of
Doubt.
Is there any Difference?
(Between Memories and
Scars.)
I for one hate days like this.
Bored, and Lonely sitting by myself lost in My Head wondering if Life will always be "This Way."
And every great and small thing (whether good, bad, or relatively indifferent) seems to break my Heart in nearly irreparable ways.
As I wonder to myself if perhaps Life is just a Sad Fuckin Joke that I can't bring myself to weep or laugh at any longer? (because I've always been it's Favorite Punchline.)
Oh love.
There are times
I
wish
I'd
Never Loved.
When Uncertain Nights
Look
Upon Me With
Their
Faceless Terrors,
till
It seems that
Nothing
Smiles Above !
(and
The Heart
is
filled
with
Errors.)
+
And
How small
I
am
Upon
These Hours;
(Truly little
more
Than
Worm.)
When Memories
Seem
Like Poisoned
Flowers. 🌹
(and Hell's Serpents
In
Me Squirm.)
+
Dreaming
Gods
Pretending.
++++++++
The Mirrors Breed
Replicas
Of Themselves
and
Eat Frail Clocks
Like
Bad Men Eat
Hearts
until
There's Nothing
Left
But
Broken Dreams
to
Stuff
Our
Weary
Heads
With.
(This is why most
Minds
are
Anorexic.)
+
It's also why
I
Think The God-Mind
Is
Bulimic;
(and we are
it's
Head-Puke)
For..
What else would
explain
The Endless
Nights
and
Broken Record
Days
which
Play, and play, and
FUCKING
PLAY
Without
A
Seeming
Ending?!!
Or
Perhaps We
Are
It and
It
Is "We"?
(thus Dreaming
Gods
Pretending.)
J.Stephen.H
(Author's Note: this is a perspective piece that I composed for A New Friend, who
Inspired it with a Conversation.
Often I am asked what I Believe. And my answer?
I believe that: Having Firm Beliefs Enslaves Minds that could be Better Liberated by continuously Evolving beyond the Necessity of Any Firm Belief.
Shorter answer?: I believe that Man Is The Author of His Own Mythic Narrative, and that Few (if any) can ever Live up To the Myth of "Self." (which is an ever-dying Phoenix, Reborn from The Ashes of Its Past with Every New Thought/Experience.)
The odd thing about "home" (Even if it's only a Hell you call home, because it's the only thing you've ever rightly known.) is that
No matter how far you go, ..it never really Leaves YOU .
(But sometimes the Most Fortunate of Souls make Peace with this reality somehow.)
The lucky ones find the inner reserves to turn their Inner Hell into a Personal Heaven which follows them Anywhere they may go.
Quotes from a
Disenfranchised Therapist.
+++++++++++++
If The Meaning of LIfe
is to seek what makes
you happy,
is the one
who still finds a reason
to smile with a gun in their
mouth a winner or a loser?
(I love a good paradox.)
++
I don't buy into any of those
guru fucks out there who act
as if you can just magically
THINK better shit into being.
Life doesn't work that way.
Life is a terrible ocean where
You swim with sharks, and either
get really good at coexisting with
them, become one, drown. (Or get fucking eaten.)
+
Be assured that any bullshit one
of those quick-fix spin- doctors try
selling you is just that.
Bullshit that only benefits them,
and perhaps those with an inherent
talent for self-delusion.
++
There is no meaning to life
other than shit we make up
as we go along.
Sometimes it is enough to
keep from whacking yourself.
Other times ones personal life
is just too shitty, and their
circumstances too severe to
see any reason to keep wading
through the Shit-Fest/
++
Crazy?
EVERYONE I've ever met
is
mentally ill in some way.
There is really only greater
and
lesser degrees of mentally
fucked.
and some fuckers
NEED The Voices.
(to keep them sane.)
+++
Therapy isn't about curing
mental illness. Because there
IS NO CURE for the Virus
of Human Consciousness .
Its about helping others learn
to tolerate or (at rare best)
genuinely ENJOY the shit life
they're're chaotically
thrown into, while co-existing
relatively peacefully
with their fellow asylum members.
++
And yes. Sometimes you
have to lie your ass off to others
to keep em from going off the rails.
There's no other way. They're too
weak to handle things at face value,
and the truth would make the fuckers
more depressed.
+
Few people are
genuinely
honest.
If they are they
quickly become
outcasts with little
to no social life;
Because as a general
rule, most don't want
to be told the truth, or
know
what you REALLY
think
about things.
They want their
precious
little egos
stroked,
or delusions
pacified.
+
The difference between
a
Cynic and a Realist?
(A Realist is a Work
in Progress who has
yet to accept The Cynical
Truth.)
j.s.h
Wednesday, November 10, 2021
Cthulhu never cracks a smile
Cthulhu never
cracks a smile.
+++++++++++++
This is the
part
where My
Words
Murder Stars..
and
Spit Infinities
into
Verse..
inspired by cosmic
scars.
(but
NEVER
ask
Cthulhu
why it
Hurts.)
+
I interrupted The
Fools
as
they sat merrily round
to
Pray;
(many seemed
disgusted.)
My Sin?!!!
I
Wore
Father's
Face
To
School
Yesterday.
(ironically
it's
a Face
I've
never trusted.)
+
Now..
These
soft, soft walls
talk
Shit
To me
often..
and
they
(literally)
grow on
you
after a while.
As
I
Bury
meaning
In It's
Coffin!
(but
Cthulhu
never
cracks
A Smile.)
J.s.h
Tuesday, December 21, 2021
Dialogue/whiskey river
Agreed.
That's why I think Im almost done buddy. (Not to seem morbid again.)
Its not really a matter of cowardice on my part.
Hell I'd fight anyone toe to toe , and if I got my ass beat take it like a champ and try harder next time or offer a hand shake you know.
But..what do you do when The Enemy is YOU?
Or worse..The Ghost of The Man You Used to Be? That thing you try to get back but feel slipping through your finger like the fading sands of TIME?
++++
I try to make my madness into a joke;..sometimes I laugh like hell, and the voices Laugh with me.
But..everyone cries ALONE. (Without even VOICES to comfort them.)
I know. I'm definitely in that mood. But I'll knock it and GROW.
And so will YOU sis.
.might not seem like it in the dark moment.
But types like us? We have to be our OWN lights...seems like.
Not to kill the truth-vibe with excessive metaphors
And Life?
(A
Heartless Clown.)
+++++++++++++
Bed
at
ten.
Up by
one.
(Can't
Wind down.)
Deaths
Shadow Friend
Has
Become
My
Sun!
And
Life??
(A
Heartless
Clown. )
+
The Coffee tastes
Like
Burnt Dreams
left
On
The Fires of
A
Heart
Too long.
(I
drink
it
anyway.)
As
I
hum the words
to
Ancient
Songs.
(Old Heathens
used
To Pray.)
+
Work by 8...
(Home
whenever.)
Mediocrity.
You must be
My
Fate!
But
Death!?? ☠️
(We've Always
Been
Together.)