THE WOUNDS/THE ATTACKS
Dishonesty and pretence. They’re a disease. An attack. I almost said they are like a disease but that would be to deny what’s systemic and virulent. It’s the most violating pandemic, historically, since the invention of the jesus myth. To be liked. To fit in. For accolades. To be important. Individually, not communally. To seek relevance. To think we will be worth remembering. They are an attack on the ness of you. You’re consciousness.
What’s the point?
POP MYTH
When the face of this delusion presents itself it wears a garment. Always. To fit the Greek mythology of gods and goddesses, Jung’s archetypes; the idea of kings and queens. See the order in which I gendered these? Murderers get headlines while the murdered get forgotten when the survivors seek what they consider justice. There isn’t such a thing. It is possibly a memory of what is buried in our genome. Once it potentially existed. A bit like the theory of socialism or communism. A bit like some curiosity like the perfect mother or an almighty old man. Perhaps it is germinating through the antithesis of itself. Justice.
Honesty is empty. It has nothing and no one. It is silent, not silenced. Simply outglitzed by desperation. For meaning. When it’s here. Meaning is right in front of us. It is steamrollered, however, by pretence and dishonesty.
I am awed by beauty. The human who shines. The very animal of us. The garments, inks, piercings that communicate a narrative without voices. That tell stories. Are depth and courage. These individuals also stand out. But they risk. Oh the risk. Abuse. Jeers. Zoos. Cellars in chains or lunatic asylums. Antidepressants if they speak out. Or prison. Or execution. Malleus Maleficarem.
WILDNESS & THE TRAPS
If you are not poor, you are eccentric or artistic or lauded for uniqueness. If you are poor you will fight, your entire life, to be.
Why are we not taught to be forgotten? That we will be trees? Or vast tundra or gaseous vaporous stratosphere? Lightning? Hurricanes. Ah. There it is brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, ancestors not yet born for a thousand thousand years. You who killed your bodies to escape.
There is everything and forever. The individual dies in the soul of themselves if accepting of the poison. If infected by this vast invented loneliness.
SCARS
Scars are what remain once the wounds heal. Those that are not seen are not included in acceptability. You don’t have to remember that.
You don’t have to do anything.