Death marks beauty

is death taboo?
should it be taboo?
it hasn’t been until i’ve aged
that death has been a topical subject.
we gloss over it.
we’re not to dwell on it.
but why not?
is it not a natural part of existence?
should we not teach what we grow
of its inexorable demise?
why not teach a acceptance
of ones own end,
instead of cushioning it with poesy?
buying into the notion of
slowing degeneration,
we’ve allowed a lie.
we see the inevitable
but we powder away it’s
unequivocal presence.
it’s only when we wash our face
that we see truly what we are.

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Connecting through obstruction

it’s strange the amount of time i’ve spent caressed by other’s ideals. but upon consumption, interpretation of said/written words leave me feeling dumb. what’s with the jargon? never mind, it’s a specialty. we need this to distinguish those that have to those that have not. we could feel the same thing, but without the proper terminology, we are alien. i’ve always looked to myself for feeling, but if it does not correspond to those who’ve “affirmed” it through print, i must be misusing what i’ve understood. to me, understanding is a matter of sitting. i guess i can say this because the experience i’ve learned has been through reading. my experience has run counter to what i’ve been taught. am i wrong, or are they wrong? what if we’re both wrong, or maybe we’re both right? the majority doesn’t include the minority, otherwise it wouldn’t be a majority. but doesn’t that make it discriminatory? inclusion requires all and not just the majority. how can satisfaction be brought to all? i don’t think equality will be possible when difference is our similarity. until we recognize¬† different being out relation, inclusion is not fully realized. we may tolerate or permit it, but we’ll not fully live it. we require sameness, but that’s control, something unnatural. i’m just as guilty as the next in my lack of inclusion. i see difference as opposite rather than addition. we all add something, and our disconnect is detrimental.