spoonful of chlorine

i'm not asking for your heart in a paper bag, nor ball and chain for you to wear around like a prisoner. i've spent time on the outskirts of time, where the days go slow and all you can do is watch dust settle on your lonely bones. I've painted pictures, written symphonies, and told stories never heard before inside my head on the borders between nothing and even more. i still remember hanging chemical lights at dusk, to make us see so that when death comes thrashing we were not all blind. now i am a light. i shine bright and stand tall with a damaged backbone. the pain washes in and out. the sadness always leaves eventually. im counting my fingers every day happy they are still there and I can read, ride a bike, or listen to your voice. i've been stepped on and stepped over since, washed and rinsed, hung to dry tear stained and not knowing why i try. i've been fed well and starved, degraded and pried apart, changed and rearranged and I still have empathy, drive and somehow a loving ability. the leaves have gotten green again and we find ourselves at winters end, the world of opportunity for the young and without love, as we stream through the world searching for substance and fun. i can't help but feel not up to par at the moment. I cant help but feel that the world pulls at the strings that it knows will hurt me. bleeding for the god's enjoyment, making me hate the things I cannot change and escaping the grasps of the throes of love because I want what I can't have, and what i do have is breaking me.  i don't need anything, i'm built to last, my line is cast and quickly sinking, always hoping words i'm sending will redeem me for being forward and fleeting. it's so fucking cold here, like most places I have been, like those hearts i have seen and held and tried to warm up to me. can't be happy because I am not worthy. i can't find love because love no longer wants me. i can't change minds because mine is collapsing under pressure, i've got an unbreakable chain between emotion and pleasure that makes me treasure you, makes me want to see something through, for once, for joy, for my own well being. i don't want your ship to just skim by and go missing. i don't want to lose my minds pictures of laughing and kissing, as i move forward you are distancing, and no one is witnessing because no one knows you even mean anything to me, because no one knows we have anything. as you cheers, or kiss, as you drink life from your single serving cup get drunk and live it up, because you know you can find love, will find love, will be something to someone, and god I wish that someone was me.

Everything we say is theoretical and subject to disection

Man was at first trained and conditioned by nature. It was the rise of communication that allowed my species to assimilate the world around and therefore begin to speculate in a verbal way the experience of living. Each of us carries a torch inside of us, our only duty is to keep the fire burning and survive the violent storms that fling our fellow beings into the abyss. We may try and save the ones we can, many are part of that unknown force that helps to send these beings on that journey into the unknown. Speculation surrounding that unknown ranges far and wide, to unseen and unheard beings, forces that guide existence in some way. Without concrete, programmed, or divine guidance it is difficult to find hopes for some similar existence when our matter is returned once again to the cycles of the universe. Or to hear the calls of the gods within ourselves to become what is meant for you. Most fall short in accurately describing the true reason for existence.
As we rose, in recent history, into an age of consumption and assimilation I see no definite or great future for this world. I am sorry for all war waged until now. Every death and moment of solitude, confinement, or second of pain, fear of everything, loss of friends, family, and men and women of inspiration. I am sorry for the pollution, the corruption, and the ability for like minds to be subdued and broken down by the destructive forces that gain in numbers and power everyday. Entropy increases with time, and Klimpt once said "To be truly great you must live outside of time". It is difficult to do so, when you stand back and see the "powerful" (monetarily and politically usually) subject the major population to exclusion through corporatization of resources. Options for living and keeping the torch burning are not designed with the worker in mind but the production and consumption of said resources. When someone spends their entire life building a life and burning a torch through the lavish consumption of goods by their peers and fellow beings, is it possible to maintain a respect for existing, or gain some better insight on existence that is not merely attributed to the decay of the mind (not to say that our minds are always sound). When I thought of this, I thought of the first inhabitants of this country, the men and women who were tangled in wars of ideas and opportunities. If they were here today after giving their lives, and sometimes everything they have, their children, would they look upon us and say "these are my descendants and they fought for a right and just world consistently", will I say that in a hundred years after I had fought in Afghanistan? When I see and hear of the darkest this world has to offer, I have heard the calls of the revolutionaries and none seem in noble positions for an enlightened being, there are few great men and we may never see many because of the exclusion of image and information.
There are no banks in the abyss