Happy suicide

could you image a book in which the protagonist is a gregarious, empathetic and loveable character who is looking for someone to listen to him exhaust himself to suicide? i would wonder at how this characters keen and extroverted spirits end up being the cause of his own demise. what happens along the way that causes this persons transformation? albeit suicide, cannot beauty be seen or portray through such acts of ultimate will power? despair seems to shine a light onto that which grows in the darkness of happiness.

Running down sight

i’m still learning how to walk
when they asked me to run.
boy, was i taken by surprise
i mean, i just begun to get
comfortable walking
working out just the right
stride to compliment me
they tap me on the back
and just yell, RUN!
holy shit, i think the
surprise and fear made my
legs do a fast walk, still
it was not fast enough
i started to raise my knees
and push my feet off the ground
the walk slowly transitioned
into a jog until i realized that
this was not running speed
i pushed off even harder
i noticed swear forming on
my head, neck, legs, back
all over, i was drenched
muscles i never felt before
began to ache but i kept going
i got so focused on what they told
me to do i lost sight of where
i was going
traffic hit.

Putting you before me except after, let’s see

what’s worth all this fighting and control if what we fight for and try to control is extinguished the moment we die? of course, we should not give up on living an ideal of a good life, but is there a way to attain what we want without hurting others? in a similar fashion of lessening our environmental footprint, can we not take the same precautions towards that of our fellow neighbours? there are things i want in life and in order to get them i must put myself first. although, in doing so i feel like i’ve now become an obstacle in someone else’s pursuit. i question my self-worth and don’t see why i should value myself over another. progress cannot be made atop of faulty foundation. i guess i really should just take stock and invest it in a stronger framework. i know that where i’m going, there’s no need to rush, nor will i have to¬† cut in line. the finish line is marked, but the end is indeterminate. i might a well suck the life out of each second because that’s how long it all takes.

We are change of life

imagine life as a cosmic stew of which feeling speaks the only truth. all this talk, all this rationally is nothing without sensory interpretation. the “true” language of being is feeling. if life is but a chemical reaction, how can sensory interpretation be deemed unfit as rational? surely we can quantify precepts, but means cannot encompass the odds and ends. i trudge through a goop traversed by many others, with no more knowledge or understanding than those of “formal” training. we’ve created specific words, although none can contain me. how can we be expected to use a language to speak standards, when we are anything but sameness? We are constantly changing, and will forever be changing, as long as life exists. life is a change otherwise it would be death.

Get a life, or at least another one.

being alive,
how does this phrase,
get a life,
apply as an insult?
to be honest,
i’m confused.
when i’m living a life,
how am i to
get another one?
i don’t have
more than one,
unless i’m schizophrenic.
even so, i’m still bound
by one consistent life.
i might unconsciously
partition my being,
but we leech off
the same being.
in the end,
our variation is
but discrepancy in stability.