This is Your GiftAll that you love shall be taken from you.As punishment, all your attachments will be destroyed.You will be continually tempted with all that you want and that you cannot keep.You will be given no actual choice; all your choices will be mere delusion.You will torture your own mind and twist your own perceptions in an overwhelming effort to avert your attention from the simple truth that all existence is suffering.You are expected to perpetually succor your tortured mind with images of illusionary happiness until the moment of your inevitable sacrifice.This is consciousness; this is your gift; this is your punishment for daring to exist.
The Ruins - Part IThe Ruins - Poems of Lossby William BetheaPart IOnce, when I went to the Darkness;I left behind my precious things.When I arrived at Its door,There was no answer.Upon returning home,I found It waiting. The DarknessHeld my precious secrets in its teeth,Ground them into dust and spit themIn my face, laughing.Once, there was no where to turn.The Darkness pretended to be my friend.It welcomed me into Its lair.As It fed me, nurtured me,Comforted me, loved me,It siphoned away my soul.As I wept in utter delusion,The Darkness consoled my broken heart,Smothered my face into Its bosom,Offered Its orifices to slake my misery,Suckled my pain and fed on my loss.The Darkness would became engorged,Eyes rolling back, head lolling,Grinning gleefully, contented,Collapsing, in unconscious satiationUntil my need arose again.Returning lucidity repudiated the Darkness.It fled from my shattered existence, dying.Only then, did I recognizeThe endless irreparable ruins remaining.
Pray Grateful PilgrimPray, grateful pilgrim;This delicious ecstasyIs now yours, at last.
Rise From Her FootstepsRise from her footstepsAstonished, grateful flowers.Reach toward her light.
My GoddessI prayed to my GoddessThrough many a Moon's nightTo be worthy of the inspiration thatOne of Her priestesses might provide.Instead, She blessed me not merelyWith Her divine delegate,But with the Adorable ManifestationOf Her Pure, Lovely and Perfect Grace.Bound forever in grateful service,I devote my works to this rebirth.This Test and Gift, both, presented,My Goddess now doth walk the Earth.
Her SkinHer skinBy the back lightGlows with inner fireThe scent of twilight lingersOn her neckHer shoulders herThighs
All that could be done"All that could be done..."I will never believe it,Riding waves to shore.
I'd Rather Be DeadYou're always asking me if I had anything worth dying for.I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:"Why is it that you find life to be worth living?"Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,And yet you lie awake.Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,And genuinely fear for your safety?Now, if it were me that you had asked my dear,I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...But of course, you are welcome to believe that.
Stripping MeYou may take what you want from me,Be it my pride or dignity.You may throw insults at me,And burn the shredded pieces of my sanity.You may belittle me, as much as you want,If only to make your meager life worth living.---But even if you do all that...---No one will protect you when I pull you into the dark.No one will try to search for you, as my leather ropes tie you down.No one will hear your screams as metallic screws drive into your face,Etching an eternal smile, since you'll never leave this place..."Now then, my dear sweet James, shall we play our favourite game?"
You are someone's reason to liveShe had skin like a cactus-believing shecould only hurtanyone who gottoo close,forgetting thatinside,she held whatpeople neededmost.
collisionsi.it is dark, unfamiliar,but your fingers seek out his,and you know thenthat you are at homein his harmonyeven if justfor now.ii.hold him;he's incendiary, sure.a veritable (volatile)molotov cocktail ofnot-okaywatch as he emerges,ashen-limbed from a cocoon of youto entwine with the threadsthat hold you sane.iii.smoldering indolentcoal-flicker eyelidswant nothing more thanto hiss and steam;than to coolin your stillnessiv.redolent of broken-record risk-taking chances untilthere's nothing leftbut scratches and glitches in the wordworki mean woodwork,i mean, skin.but oh god, he loves youjust like this,like that,this way.v.this is a choice:you may destroy him,extinguish his flamesand half-bury him inthe ashy remnantsof his own conflagration but it's an impotent powerthat is granted, not taken.
i'd haunt you if you'd like.my hands are paralyzed and you're waiting for me to touch your face,but that doesn't really matter because i'd rather touch your souland if you close your eyes long enough i'll read you poetry as we lay atop the monkeybarsin this old and rusted parkyou can pretend to know the constellations and point them out to me and i'll tell you they're all beautiful, but nothing compared to youif i'm lucky you'll blush and laugh at me,tell me i say the dumbest things but deep down it'll register in your soul just how much i love youand i know they say you can only save yourself, but darling i swear if you'll just have the slightest bit of faith i'll save the fuck out of you or i'll destroy myself trying,because i honestly can't think of any other purpose for my lifeor what smidge of it i've been able to hold on to.
Hopeful HeartThe sky is pitch blackAnd so is my heartAfter all the painI went throughAfter all the effortFor a lost causeSo I look upLooking for a starA ray of lightTo guide me awayAway from this darkness inside my heart
On HomeOn Home - a poem by William BetheaOn home and dusty objects:Scatterings, prayers and junctions.The wind, alone, restless persists,Guiding sky waterFeeds emotional tricklings,Flows from wounded heightTo the vast, loyal, wanton ocean.
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