The filter that keeps us all from the bare primordial is not so apparent when those ancient, organic cries of anguish and separation bleed through.

In the air we breathe,
the fading voices, embers,
burn quietly dim.

I can't wait
to meet the one I drove away
to greet a constant state
I need it for today

No quick way
You sit and wonder, draw breath
This will not go away
The rope begins to fray

I'd set my goals aside
if I could be with you
I'd set my goals aside
if I could be with you
I'd set my goals aside
but will it get me through
I'd set my goals aside
if I could be with you

Don't make waste
I know you'll do it all again
I try to reach the point
I know you did the same

I'd set my goals aside
if I could be with you
I'd set my goals aside
if I could be with you
I'd set my goals aside
but will it get me through
I'd set my goals aside
if I could be with you

I'd set my goals aside
but will it get me through
I'd set my goals aside
if I could be with you

Ripped apart by destiny-claws...

Am I another of fate's possessions?

I have somehow felt the gestalt impact of the realization of existentialism. There is no a priori. There are no excuses. Only a chain of choices and mistakes (mostly the latter).

It's hard to discern your own mind, when you are not completely sure how much is chemical, how much is real and how much is delusion. I used to embrace all facets of it all, and embody the primevally complicated language that I still think in. But, I don't express that language anymore. And, when I try to, I realize that I don't have the ease of connection I once did.

It's a strange dilemma, because this was supposed to be my ultimate goal. I used to dread the metaphorical dimensions, and think about what life would be like with only stark realism. And, now that I'm closer than I ever have been to realism, I miss the whimsical, destructive forces that reigned for so many years. As obscure and demented as it was, it was a home to me, and it reinforced the only kind of self-confidence I ever cared about.

If it's childish to want those things, that doesn't change the fact that I still want them. There is a certain purity to expression that is based on a sense of hair's-breadth survival. The crusader; the martyr; the prisoner awaiting execution. It is still me, but I have learned to hide those things. And if anything has been detrimental to me, it is suppression and repression.

The way that my mind works, I will continue to pursue the same cognitive lines and themes until they have reached exhaustion. But, as long as there is an inexhaustible supply of exhaustible thinking, I feel like I will be able to keep my humanity, even when I tend to forget that I'm Human in my mind and body. The separation within me always tells me that I am neither parts of myself, but it is also that separation that gives birth to the crusader; the inspiration of the light-bringer.

So how should I surround you?
And how should I relax?
It's happening now
It's happening now

Mutilate

Oh,
we will stagger,
we will stagger
on and on
A simple habit --
Jump from one foot
to the other,
on and on

Chained to the laws
Chained to the laws

Oh,
let's go further,
used to reeling
on and on
A pain reflex
if mistaken
Never lose faith,
steering on

Oh,
we will stagger,
lose our bearings
on and on
Yes,
there can be no
obvious answers
as we move on

And on and on,
we must tremble,
lame and humble,
on and on

Behind the stars, beneath the walls
Below the ground, before the storm...
Below the ground, before the storm

Chained to the laws
Chained to the laws

Useless anger;
there's no answer
to be found
We will stagger,
we will falter,
stained and blackened,
on and on

Chained to the laws
Chained to the laws
You'd better know the laws

The feel of the action
is far behind
The fruit of the action
has nailed you down, dragged you down
Progress
Progress
Progress
Progress
Progress
Progress
Progress
Progress
Sealing up reaction
overwhelms the conscience,
leads to more diversion
and pulls you down
Coming to attention,
going through the tension,
praying for the sanction;
you're fading out
The feel of the action,
the seed of the action
will drag you down
Twenty fallen angels,
heading for salvation,
heading for the sanction
will soil the sky
Gain a new dimension,
take a new direction,
whirlwind of emotion;
for now's the time
Progress
Process
Protest
No rest

Going through old writing 1

Why do so many social stigmas exist? How is it that society as an organism gets to mold its own inhabitants, without even the realization? Are we existing only to fill up a larger fractal level with a bland, morose, self-centered, sexual entity?

The corrosion fills your mind. Your eyes turn to stone. A killer becomes in you; desire...

The only thing that our government can do efficiently anymore is convince people to use their more banal and basic emotions to work against their own interests. Because condescension and hatred and empty, blind bigotry are so easily cultivated in society. Sexual cues; behavioral cues based on persecution and anger; feelings of worthlessness or unattained glory directed outward and projected into their conception of others; twisted plants that have grown from a nebulous childhood trauma that everyone in America knows, a strange feeling of never being able to get what you want; when progress is made, the realization that there is no real progress worth dying for in this country, because the self is put before everything else; the ubiquitous spread of strains of religion that focus on how we are all corrupt in our cores and can only get anything positive if we admit to our own impotence, admit that we are nothing without incorporeal, otherworldly salvation that we never see in this life; all of these things are ruination to the Human soul.

I do not even care all that much whether or not religion is true. Look at what it's gotten us: absolute emptiness. And, somehow, that emptiness is glorified all the more because it really is empty. We live our lives as cattle in herd, surrendering to every hormonal and instinctual whim without real thought, without real development of our emotional state. People seem to think that those first biological inklings that enter the brain are all there is: the desire for nubile sexual attractiveness, of pageantry, of accumulation and domination. All of the things that the religions that are strangling America denounce... they are all what defines us because we ignore their effects. We think as consumers, and more than that, we think as complex systems of stimuli and reward centers. We pick and choose what we believe, regardless of what is provably true; verifiable truth itself is regarded as emptiness. It is a huge polar shift in reality, because to respect critical truth is seen as respecting decadence, rejecting 'nobility'. Nobleness and moral excellence are only seen as conceit and projecting a domineering psyche, even when real 'moral excellence' would mean just the opposite. Our views of good and evil are reversed somehow, and because of this, we see the short-sighted as being the good, we see selfishness as being grand. I say, 'we', because I would like to think that I'm speaking as a part of society... but I have no part in those kinds of behaviors. The small moral inconsistencies that everyone deals with on a daily basis are not part of the greater picture, but because people never learn to think on that larger scale, they make it all a part of the instinctual, knee-jerk thought processes.

It's the time-honored story of every archetypal civilization, boasting its glory and holding its own kingdom higher than that of the rest of the world. Everyone knows how the story always ends, to impose its moral lesson: It crumbles. It self-destructs. But because we are our own Manifest Destiny, because we are the greatest, they will never acknowledge that end coming. Which is ironic, because they would scream at the screen if it were in a movie. They would laugh and look down their noses at it if they weren't too uneducated and too ignorant and too stupefied to understand that it's happening to them. And even if they did understand it, I still believe that they would accept it anyway, because they would take that temporary, amplified pleasure, rather than the guilt they would deserve if anyone ever came to terms with the consequences of living a hubristic, arrogant life; the real irony is that they are nothing but slaves themselves.