I have now realized that the composition of myself isn't have or in quarters. The first three quarters being with me. The methods that I write the programs that I design the way that I sculpt my figure by person. It is all a results of watching. Watching the natural flow or the spirit Within Me. That spirit being. I watch this thing I do what it says I have thoroughly convinced it's convinced myself that it is me and it is what breathes me. What's like being possessed by something it moves about its own will without my interjection. As I feed it and as it grows my happiness my awareness my value of life and many other facets at which I can say I enjoy my life more seem to grow. So my first instinct is to allow it to grow completely unhindered. Removing many layers of anxiety secrets trauma to increase the sense of confidence as confidence is The Shield at which you hold off the disruptions in your own forces resonance and growth. Once The Shield is built the last thing to be made is the clever trick of making money off of the natural Instincts of the spirit. Much like a doctor would watch a patient and document at what time does the day certain hormonal levels blood pressure another of various measurements of the client's body and health would be made and at what times the frequency until 1. Space and much like any other profession or research watching an animal. Getting the something that comes naturally and watch what you do documented very finely and see how you can Progressive.

So I dangle the carrot before my eye so that I may squeeze every last tear from my heart that I may muster. Hundreds of glistening enchanted jewels shrouded in powerful memories near and dear to the heart. And as her blessing goes away he light fades from the stone, the hum fades into silence. What wonder and magic was once held within has faded. It's seen two ways, the past and the present. The mind struggles to choose which to hold on for it does not know which is real. For in the eyes of the beholder the gem still shines and shines brightly but te beholders eyes are filled with tears because his love does not seen this shine, these same gems and artifacts appear dull and distasteful. Surrounded by memories rather not remembered rather than surrounded in memories that the beholder cannot wait to experience again. This conflict in views sparks the deep emotional reaction, to each his own anger or sadness. Confusion always sets in somewhere before or between this entangled mess of emotions and thoughts. The beholder will seak to clear his confusion and if he lacks the inner circles of friends and family who have given him good word before then he will turn to his lost love for the answers of their seperation. But this individual is already setting sail and moving further away from these memories at an increasing rate, asking this person to stay for a few moments and explain is often a fruitless endevour unless you are willing to chase down the train and leave behind the sour taste and faulty chracter of the obsessive and groundless man.

How many days do you find yourself staring at the wall?
How many times have you wished you could ran away from it all?
It doesn't have to be like this.
You know it's true.
I'll help you find yourself.
I've been here since you were seventeen.
Do you remember those summer nights?
Looking up at the stars, long before you ever felt alone.
Back when we were together.
Wrapped up on a bench would you could be someplace better.
You wanted to be here, you wanted to be found.
But why does it make you feel so small?
I love that I know you, is it not a pleasure to be seen?
If you have to ask you know the reasons why.
Maybe a long time ago but not anymore.
Those eyes that watch me used to be a part of me.
But now they hang and fill me with doubt, images of a man I'm not about.
Surely he will be misunderstood
The vision of himself has changed but his world has not.
Deep within him he feels the ultimate struggle to move the world around him.
Rather than allow the world to move him.
He searches for the will.
He fears his own strength.
Afraid to use the power he holds.
Knowing well that he could pull down everything that stands.
He sees the bonds that hold together that which brings pain, he wants to break them all.
But he has seen how his actions can doom the ones he loves, even though he wanted to help.
Why do you stay?
He finds out why the closer he becomes.
Why is this you?
He finds out why as he comes closer.
Some people I cannot come closer as I ask why, so I will never see that particular answer, but I will find that answer sometime later and the situation may be the same.
I want nothing but what comes natrually to me.
Everything else is a challenge to prove to myself things, normally these things mean nothing.
I push myself to do things to live up to what others think of me, or think ill of me.
Time, Time Time, Time.
He I sit, write and wait.
Watching the time on the clock slowly slip by.
Every moment another moment spent dead.
Here in my hole, this room, this house.
Sitting and wallowing in the same dead old memories.
I live, rot, and die within this confinment.
This is not a prison because I was captured.
This is a prison because I cannot leave without great risks.
I would have no place to lay my head without the impending day that I was told I have overstayed my welcome.
I would starve for finding work would take too long, but I have right now and I still make no motion to aquire hourly work again.
I freeze in trying to call and aquire more work from my union, for they are a treat to be blessed but not a resource to mine. No attempts have ever worked, why am I suppressed here after years of work?
I feel shame in leaving my job at the gym, my opportunity to make relationships and clients.
All in my head this feels ok, these obstacles are small and my opportunities are many.
But yet I find myself in pure misery engaging in many of these things.
The hourly work brings me to the peak of my stress still my emotions burn out and I go dead and silent with a fire burning inside me to explode.
To those who saw quench that flame and work, I say go fuck yourself. No soul should have to bottle in their fustration and hatred of other people for the sake of survival. Those days are long past where the tribe must always be cared for. This is truley the age of the individual.
In the gym I worked for I felt this awesome pressure of freeze.
I would make some attempts to speak with members but my directions would fail, I could not steer properly and result.
I would not follow up my efforts, I wanted my single interaction to be my last with them.
My own mood, feelings and overall state were far too inconsitant with the chracter I needed to provide to ensure a reliable experiance for that client.
At home I can't find the willpower to practice and track the habits that would ensure my emotional and overall state would be consistant enough.
I'm trying to find reason in why I don't see eliminating the deep slides in the graph of my state over an amount of time doesn't motivate me to do so.
I expressed this once to someone but with the spin that I might be addicted to apathy.
This feeling of saddness, longing and sarrow may be something I draw pleasure from.
I draw a strange pleasure from it as I am not pleased by it.
I feel lacking and in need of help to retain a better state when I am in the state of depression.
I would like to express willpower and change this direction so that more time would be spent working in a direction of growth and achieving things I want rather than spending time looking back and reorganizing and reinterviewing myself about different events in my life and possible events.
This direction of growth is a very blurry thing, which is not helped that it has to be a capitolly insentivised growth rather than a purely creative growth.
Basically described as the minds ability for fluid creativity forced to produce things outside of the definition of the fluid creative processes job.
Because not always are buisness growth tasks ones that can be build from the creative imaginination.
If the creative imagination is used for things that do not bring immediate pleasure to the creator then the process is being used incorrectly and the highest quality results (great masterworks to be proud of) will never be created, they will be miniscule, deformed, misshaped and ect.
I have been trying far to hard to mold two catagories of creative abilities into one, as the fluid process is the only one I have familiarity with. Being a fictional writer and a abstract tribal artist for some time I grew to understand the fluid and infinate workings of things process. While it still drained some energy from the system, the energy provided by it's completion was more than enough to make up for the defecit in emotional state quality.
So thinking of growth as work, or plotting the plan for achievement when needing to create products which requires imagination seems to fall apart or kill the growth by placing it in a box.
I have not yet found a way around this, a way to seperate the catagories so they can work to their best ability when used properly. Despite the many brilliant uses for the mind, the mind can e used incorrectly.

Funny how one song can bring her here.
She isnt there but you can smell her
You can feel her lips, jist as she licks them
You feel her neck. Her hair, the soft but thickness of her skin. Her bold features, her round cheeks and short chin

Just an idea for what my reflection of this world might be as I can't just be one solid thing. The nature is state over time long enough for a wavelength to be formed. The space too small between can not be anything, it is potential. I observer the motion of this great wheel and the passing of many faces over it surface. Only seen for a moment but still a part of this song. For too long I have forced myself to focus in, look closer and define myself as a single frame and hold my will to this image so that my waveform, my song would ring or vibrate to the same tune no matter the world I was in. I observe from far away, I cannot come so close to this form. It is too small and does not become carried by the greatness that hides behind everything. It is within everything. Our will places tension or strain over the smallest undefinable length of time where raw potential is held as the waveform is created and defined as it is tracked. Like trying to place your hands on a wire after being plucked to suppress its vibration is my attempt to hold myself to a single frame of time or image for myself.

Dull Stone

So I dangle the carrot before my eye so that I may squeeze every last tear from my heart that I may muster. Hundreds of glistening enchanted jewels shrouded in powerful memories near and dear to the heart. And as her blessing goes away the light fades from the stone, the hum fades into silence. What wonder and magic was once held within has faded. It's seen two ways, the past and the present. The mind struggles to choose which to hold on for it does not know which is real. For in the eyes of the beholder the gem still shines and shines brightly but the beholders eyes are filled with tears because his love does not see this shine, these same gems and artifacts appear dull and distasteful. Surrounded by memories rather not remembered rather than surrounded in memories that the beholder cannot wait to experience again. This conflict in views sparks the deep emotional reaction, to each his own anger or sadness. Confusion always sets in somewhere before or between this entangled mess of emotions and thoughts. The beholder will seak to clear his confusion and if he lacks the inner circles of friends and family who have given him good word before then he will turn to his lost love for the answers of their seperation. But this individual is already setting sail and moving further away from these memories at an increasing rate, asking this person to stay for a few moments and explain is often a fruitless endevour unless you are willing to chase down the train and leave behind the sour taste and faulty chracter of the obsessive and groundless man.

This is my life. It belongs in my hands.
I don't want to be a part of this, or you.
I trust myself to do the right things.
I trust myself to have the heart when choices come that I need to use it.
I trust my mind to help me when I have work to do.
I trust my will to push me when I want to stop.
I trust my soul to carry my father when all else fails.
I trust my faith to bring me lessons I cannot learn from people and books.
I trust my eyes to see all there is to see.
I trust my ears to hear all there is to hear.
I trust myself with myself.
I love myself, I love you.
I love them, they all and we.
I love our history, how we made it here.

But I have hate.
Do I express hate?
Do I trust hate?
Am I right when I feel anger?
Can I follow two paths so stranger to eachother?
Is the path I walk in life not straight and not only one path?
Is this entanglement, two where one should be.
Or maybe infinite.
Can I be more than just one?
Life an aray of emotions and states.
Such a variety in who we are just as ourselves.
The right and wrongs are hard to define because the wrong display attributes of the right and the opposite is also true.
But a certain degree of prudence is always necessary for our growth, a certain selective eye for our qualities and traits. Chosen rationally seems mad and sadistic. Inhumane. But this prudence guided my emotion is like an order from God. Not to be ignored and no matter who it offends we must be write, our prudence is of divine source. Also why do I share these words? There has been time inbetween the moments where I could tell if I was a helpful word in the wind to help guide this emotional prudence in the hearts of others so we may collaberate similar selectiveness and breed a world that was guided by our emotions. The knowledge we select our truths from we based mostly on emotion, rarely on rational comparison. This is alright, because rational comparison is a science that exists only inside the artificial. Just like time or measurement of distance. These things seem absolute but when divided further and further, or multiplied as such they loose all meaning and ability to be measured. The results jump around and change. Nothing in this universe is set or solid. The whole system flows and is changing constantly on the deepest levels. Nothing is ever still. So why this need for change and improvement as a whole society? Why must we become smarter, stronger, more beautiful and more benevolent to one another? To me it's very clear but hard to convey. It's from an emotional stand point to improve our experiences. If we are smarter we can solve issues we couldn't imagine or perceive possible solutions for. A combination of our creativity, intellect, and intuition. If we are more beautiful we are more confident and are more able to relate to one another. We are able to more willingly grow deeper into our relationships which is the source of creative power in living things, complex relationships between living things. The relationship lasting a few minutes or decades can lead to birth. This is a complex relationship in itself as cells from the male and female body enter relationship and organize themselves in more and more complex patterns until the human emerges. The more complex our relations to one another the more complex our problems also become. The wiser we become we see simple solutions to complex social issues rather than just ecological or domestic in nature. Seeing solutions from the wise eye's view can be blocked or blinded by faulty or obsolete thinking. Complexity and efficiency compete in nature. The human mind has a habit of pushing complexity far beyond where our efficient organization of thoughts and or cells can keep up. No human walks this Earth without some form of neurosis or cancer, cell death, or aging happening in their body. The structure we are now as humans is a evolutionary development of cells forming more complex relationships. Right now I see that we as all people are reaching a precipice in our complex thinking and relationships where the cells and thoughts will rather than constantly expand and create new complexities will try and sort the materials and ideas to be organized into more efficient pathways to be taught and learned by the next generation so their minds and bodies can be freed from the weight of every generation before them asking too many questions they had no answers for. This cliff we stare over looks very deep. Deep enough that if you were to jump you would fall long enough to forget you were falling at all. This is an interesting analogy because it speaks of the state the new generations will find themselves in the age of organization and efficiency. They will decened into the amassed information of previous generations, machines sorting through history, information, experiances, reasoning, and emotions untill they have brixged the gaps between all theoties, sciences, histories and faiths to uncover the underlying patterns of life, development and growth in humans. At the end of this phase is when I see the forgetting of the sensation of falling. Answering every question there is to ask leaves a person in a state of limbo. Seemingly without purpose now that whatever deed that did need doing has been done. A bored and disinterested soul will crave choas. Choas can only exist when the conditions of the chpatic event are beyond control or being able to fully encompas the event. Choas is the return of growing complexity and the fascination with exploration of possibilities rather than their analyzation of the sake of efficiency.

This blog never had a reason or purpose.

I've come to realize I feel same to expose my broken self here. When I am faced with myself or the problems I hold inside I can come here and speak from the heart about it. I am the only one who hears my words. But slowly that is starting to change as each day more and more views seem to find their way here and that amazes me. For moment it made me rethink how I typed here. I think about my writing more, my use of profanity, my spelling and grammar. It was never about that before. Just type as fast and as passionate as possible and maybe one day when I'm famous I can pay someone to go back through all of this and spell check it for me.

I've worked myself into a messed up position because I feel like I'm trapped inside a cage between what I need myself to be and what I am being. I can write lists and listen to videos about how to structure and guide this change but I simply feel empty from time to time. No will or spirit to push me and my body feels useless, like it shouldn't be here it is. Almost like a magnetic repulsion I feel rejected by the very air I hold in vacuum by my physical body filling that space. I am allowed here, part of my existence warrants that. But yet I still feel like I don't belong. Like I am solar powered on a planet that has no sun. Where is the will and energy filling the air, filling me? The air I breathe is a stale air, the energy I spend is energy on reserve. Where it comes from I don't know, but I'm always a marker from empty yet I never totally run out. I'll run so low and keep on spending and there isn't a single good thing about it. It makes me feel like I am eternal but eternal in stress, not eternal in joy. What is a ever lasting life in that life is spent in confusion and restlessness.

I want these hands to craft what I know they can but they feel forced, my heart stands in the way and my eyes drop to the floor. Why must I become my own obstacle. What am I to myself? Why is this concept so confusing? Why can I not define myself? What am I? What is my place in all this? Am I here to create chaos? Solve problems? Spread love? Or to self serve and build for my own enjoyment and survival. The latter is the only I feel any connection with now. As each hand I have reached out has gotten bit. But I feel my debts grow up the help of family in supporting me. I despise this debt, I feel stained and ruined by it. I feel as though I can't act on my own regard when being held and houses by someone else. When their dollar becomes my blood, my blood is not my own.

I have to move from this place but to do that I must move these hands. These hands won't move when carried but such a heavy heart. I wish this weight was lifted, I want all these emotions that hold me back to go away and for the heaviness to be carried on my shoulder upon strong legs. Not holding this heart which should soar so very close to the ground. Trying to be out of sight and out of might. My wants and needs conflict with each other. The desire to be important, to sen messages and change lives. To speak without hesitation but to remain unnoticed so I can act without thought about judgement of my actions. Why do these opinions matter? After many men have had horrible actions and equally horrible character but have gotten much farther in life and seem to live much happier.

So many paths, I love to study the path. How they become, what they are. It's all very interesting to me because my own path makes no sense to me. It's where the math begins to cave in when I observe myself, my history so that I am see who I am, how I became who I am. The reasons I place seem like lies beneath the surface to explain things so I can hide from the real problem. Explain the surface to ignore the core. But I cannot see this core, I don't know if it exists. I don't know if anything exists. My efforts into it feel like I am being tricked or fooled. Or that all this life will come to an end where I am laughed at by ancient spirits. There is no place in the reality I hold in my mind where I can escape the unrelenting judgement of my peers.

I wish to see the body of my father. Such a strong, bold, violent and provocative thing to say but I feel no statement stronger. The effect his presence had on my forming was like cancer in my blood. How I feel ruined by such a mans guidance. How I feel less, how I feel I have no beliefe in myself because of this origin. Whilst I trace my path I find myself in front of him, this great destroyer, this irresponsible and morally dead man.

So much hate inside, wanting to let it all go but I feel how it tugs against the flesh of my soul. How it stings as it pulls. How I feel I loose just another slice of what I feel is real. How in my mind I hold my world at a touches distance. Where I can feel it all as though it were in my hands. All my senses come to the surface and my imagination uses them all to construct the images in my mind. So much more than images, memories. Smell, touch, taste, sound, and sight. But when I let go, when I choose to forget I loose a part of my ability to remember. With each memory I cast away it becomes harder to form new ones. Always with less detail or I can only remember them through certain senses.

I don't want to be this, how can I let go of my angers and still remain the man I am?

I think the answer is I cannot. I do not believe great men are men who forget who wronged them, men who forget why the world is wrong. Men who forget are men who are forgotten.

Tomorrow

And as I breathe I fell the stress and tears that hide between the fibers of my muscles.

My worn stiff and tired muscles.

In the night when I am lost to myself, in this dangerous mysterious world of the night.
Left alone to the imagination I'm convinced I no longer have, I remain totortured by it. Teased and lied to about it missing state as I know very well it have remained here with me. Hidden behind the scenes with a mind of its own as it is no longer happy with my uses for it. A child in mind and at heart he only wishes to play. Say playful things, do senseless things. I understand. I listen the best that I can so that I may follow in the wishes of my spirit. Who I think is my spirit. With me always, but yet I feel so alone in the night. So who am I? Am I the perversion of the childs spirit which needs to be cut away and burned? Has the real I been fooled so well? Or am I the matured and changed man held behind by some much that isn't willing to grow with him. Why when I command steel I only recieve this painful fleash. I need what is harder, what stays stronger longer. I have many jobs, many goals, many works that these tired stiff muscles will have to see their way through. If I am a demon this wil be my disaster because my life is a game, a token. I can spend it as I wish, if these be a hijacked life so be it. I am sorry to all those who would have loved this devine boy. The music lover, the dream weaver, the heavy hearted, the head in the stars. The dark prince. He says goodnight. The warrior rises, a king in his wake.