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Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

It doesn’t hurt anymore, my cramping uterus causing:

Hiding in the corner,”I won’t ever be able to have children. I’m a child. I’m selfish. I only have one ovary.” 

It doesn’t hurt anymore, looking in the mirror causing:

“I’m growing old so fast. My hair is falling out. My legs are horrible, handfuls.”

It doesn’t hurt anymore, looking at you causing:

“You hate me. You are only speaking to me because there’s nobody else. And you find me intriguing, but I’ll tell you a secret. I only appear to be intriguing because I don’t know how to be myself.”

She held my hand in the horror-house the other night, it was a “dream” but who’s to say? I was walking alone and she touched me, which melted the boundary of me and the world. They were being slaughtered, but she told me to focus inside. And I closed my eyes and let myself melt into her warmth, and her strength causing no thoughts, just a peace that dissolved my separateness. As I continued to fall away, she kissed me and left me there, with the darkness enfolding. 

It doesn’t hurt anymore. And I am stronger than this. And I am stronger than believing it’s me and the world. And I am stronger than the need to be noticed. And strength is me. And I am strength. 

And looking in the mirror, causing:

A reflection. Beyond. 


What a Breath should feel like

There’s a communication when you’re quiet, between breath and auditory senses. When you breathe in, you can hear out as if it’s coming out of your ears. When you breathe in, you can feel your heart lift up. When you close your eyes listen to this song closely, eternity is flowing through you. If you hold your breath, you’ll have breathing problems. If you’re naturally anxious, you’ll have breathing problems, which most everybody does. If you’re quiet, you can learn to breathe. Thoughts only bring you to heaven, which sends you to hell. Hell torments you until are birthed into heaven. The place in the middle, where you’re breathing all of the time, you get used to seeing the world directly as it is, without your prejudices, judgments or biases. 

An experience of stepping into and out of my addiction to thinking

The railcar goes up the rollercoaster and it’s feeling the sun on it’s face, while the world stops. There’s darkness on the other side, because I am night and day. And my fingers get cold and my eyelids close halfway. And my soap stream slips like a glass marble covered in oil on a ramp. And I get taken down there, because of my inability to control it. Until I go so far, I come out the other end smiling, after the drop. My conclusion is that I need to meditate more. To stay at the level where I know wisdom, I am wisdom, because I’m at peace. Until then, I’m night and day. 


I want to see m…

I want to see my reflection in the broken pieces of decay, because I looked in the light and the light burned my eyes and I had to find comfort in the uncomfortable

this one day

    • it feels like I’m learning how to walk again. I feel full, I think, “I need to write this down,” catch myself not present and practice throwing away the pieces. Each moment I’m reborn and My skin is burning away from the flames of the sun. But the sun does not pelt us from above, oh no. It pelts us from below where we are practicing burning. and we can already study what is because we are looking at ourselves, but what we do not know is being submitted and we will vibrate so fast to so slow. And the faster we get is either a balloon popping or being filled with water. And I practice calming myself and calming myself and a rise voice says, “the only thing to fear is fear itself.”

    • if we just listen and let be, you are the world. There need be no explanation.
      We are the solar ray

      The layers are peeled like an onion or Titanic’s sinking compartments are filling, the water pouring in and being shut up tight like a drowning man’s lungs and the ship finally sunk. The sea is done being shut up, let the waves roll, baby, and spill the ocean back to Me.


When I feel the silence creep beneath what seems to be the door-drifting and waivering and slowly ascending upon me I can only stop and I let it be suctioned off by a blink on the bottom of the face of my toes and my body begins to feel warm, circulating my muscles and dancing the halls of my rib bones and I start to close my eyes because there is a solo being had by my heart. And I respect and I listen to the beating within and i feel my blood dancing. and when I open my eyes I see the hair on the top of my skin with the echo of the light from the corner and i start to tease the tips of my fingers with the top layer of me and from here I start to feel the coolness that addresses the heated blood from below and here I am, a tornado of me, and my lips feel cool on the edge of my elbow (and I look at the roach across from my foot and I smile because I think to myself, if this were the end of the world and it was rare to see another sentient being, I would be so happy to see you Roach) And it’s hard to believe how to explain this could be no more perfect to those who compare yesterday with today. How can I explain to you, ma’am, that pouring you this glass of water might be the best thing I’ve ever done?


It will okay then-

stare, a nighttime of pretend

care and come back in

side to shelter your

self is away from the dark


She rolls up her sleeves now, ready, prepared


Lying back and wistful, submerge the 

putrid corner into holy water,

’tis better to stand than sit

’tis better to sit than stand

away from the dark

away from the light


She is prepared!


And here is this day 

that never began and never

ends and here she 

is thinking thinking thinking

where is she thinking thinking 

thinking whether or not to try this

and that but this and that is the bread

and butter and the vanilla or chocolate 

and the artist or slave

and there she is standing, no sitting, no standing

and the foot trembles

with a mind of it’s own

and there is no path,

only thinking thinking thinking.