wild-existence

[wild-existence]

I See You Too

Your eyes have something in them. I’ve been loved before, it isn’t just that. They look at me as if any future I stumble into is alright with you. They look at me like I’m 10 times the man I’ll ever be, but still the one standing in front of you. The warmth the care the love, it permeates in your pupils commanding my gaze to reciprocate. Eyes that see me, Eyes that know me, Eyes that I try to burn into the back of my eyelids. I can’t wait to see them every morning light.

[wild-existence]

Until the end

Impatient to live my life with you. Each day feels like a tease to the love we’ll accomplish. To grow old with you, to change with you, and then with any luck, to die with you. Each day I’m one step closer to living my life with you, each day I see our future so much clearer. You think I move to fast, but I can’t help but sprint towards the future I see with you . Till time tears us apart, I’ll cling to until the very end.

[wild-existence]

Storm chasing

Electricity corses through my power line veins. Eyes pierce like lighting. My heart thunders into my ears I just hope the echo isn’t heard by others. You walk towards me. My palms precipitate as if they were an early spring morning. I struggle to listen to your words, the patter of words is muffled by the the clouds of thoughts that swirl above my consciousness. I smile at the eyes of the storm. Such beautiful nature, they move as gods whim in a galvanizing waltz. What a storm to weather. What weather to witness within a life. Lightning strikes so fast, its effects last a lifetime, yet it crackles away in an instant. I look for you in the clouds. Kites and curiosity peruse the sky in hopes to find you again. I’m ready this time, equipped with determination and a raincoat I wander for you.

[wild-existence]

The Peonies Petals

As sweet as sin, an apothecaric nectar. Scratches upon skin yet subtle kisses follow. Their eyes pierce my heart, intoxicating venom swirls and swishes through my bloodstream. In a world defined with words and their meanings, I alone float in space. I’ve done whatever I deemed necessary to be next to them. Poisonous words were spewed in defenses never asked for. Toxic gas clouds the thought of those not brave enough to inhale an ounce of their aroma. To prove a perceived poison is safe is a troublesome task. The kinder call you immune, the rest call you sick.

Petals fall to the floor, ignored due to a symbol they never chose to represent. The floor is now graced in a beauty only few would dare to admire. In a world filled with steeled circumstances and manufactured malice, if a flower is offered to you, please cherish it. Gardens grow in hearts, and flowers bloom if you talk kindly to them.

[wild-existence]

Stubborn Sediment

This tunnel doesn’t seem to have a light at the end. But going back isn’t an option. Ambition advances as aimlessly as the one who wields it. I’ve made my choice, and that autonomy is enough to keep me moving. I stumble through the rocky terrain, my arms and legs scrapping the walls as the dark cavern tightens. Blood spilt on my own path seems to sting more, yet I care less for its loss. I started this journey with a goal, a reason, a purpose. All that has been swallowed in these carnivorous catacombs. Time speeding towards a standstill.

Was it worth it, dying in a cave of desire?

Yes, 100 times yes.

To die on a hill is to die on a mounta of ideals.

[wild-existence]

Ask Away

Shadows stain these 4 walls. Their murky hue bleeds into everything, my thoughts are no exception. I run and hide in my room where you can’t get me, but it’s all I want. A heart to ashamed of its intent. Intimidated by the intimacy it yearns for. Cries for help muffled by my inaction. My eyes the only willing participants in communicating, the darkness quietly hushes them from reaching you.

I bet you’re wondering what’s going through my mind in these times, how funny that it’s all I want to tell you. I want you to understand me. That’s it, when I’m sad I want you to know, when I’m happy I want you there. To make sure of this I… I LOCK MYSELF AWAY?!? What good is that?!? Why am I here?? Why am I alone??? You would do anything for me if I asked. I know because I’m the same.

So why is it so hard to ask?

[wild-existence]

Rain or Shine

They feel like dozing off to rainstorms. the clouds couldn’t create weather worthy of worry. The sun shines when it can, knowing we’ll manage without, and certainly celebrate its return. Until then, I hum to the rhythms of raindrops, stopping every so often to hunt lighting strikes before thunder gives away their positions. Through storms or softened smilers, forecasts can’t fathom the joy the day will bring us.

[wild-existence]

Son of a son

Son of god, son of man, son of a gun, pain trickles, rope is hung. Life repeats yet moments fickle. Break the cycle, take a rifle, create a file, earn a case, never break face. Loose your lace, add to why they carry mace. Chase the escape, run back to fate. It’s far to late, never finish your plate. Be the hate you hate. Hate yourself, hate him, hate the hate he harbored. Hate it all, never cry at all, it least your tough. It least you can be rough, you’ve never given a fuck. You’ve never needed luck. Born different, raised indifferent, then do it all again.

[wild-existence]

If this is a dream

It feels too real, but all the best ones do. Can imaginations act as incantations to creation or must they be burdened with prior experience. Details and dust disway me from pinching myself. It’s almost eerie how well it worked out for us though. We were raised on fairytales then told they we fables so what do we do when fictions have to be fathomed. I guess I’ll just coast through, dream or not this is where I wish to be. The certainty of reality takes second to the experiences felt. If I wake up and it’s all gone, i hope I remember this. one day memories all drift away so if the reaper collects them, I’ll be grateful he allowed me to borrow them.

[wild-existence]

Superpowers and superheroes

They can’t read my mind, I know this. I watch as their puzzled face squints to try and read my own. I love that they come up short with who, what, where and why I am. This frustrated phenomenon leads to why my heart calls out to them. They do what they can, they mimic, they amplify, they oppose, they jest and they detest. Reading minds is a worthless power to those who talk to one another. We argue, inspire, add-on and take everything we can from each others words.

In a group of people, I’m forced to read the windowed eyes while staring at fictitious faces to know their meaning. I read and read and read, lies mixed with truth until neither have meaning. They, on the other hand, see no need to horde honesty, their words are mirrors for their intent. No games or riddles, freedom of speech has never burdened them. It’s inspiring to listen to someone who’s heart can beat without wavering. I hope one day I can convey myself and my words and heart align automatically. For now it’s only with them, but I’ve been blessed enough to be able to practice a lot. I hope to never read minds again, I hope they feel comfortable telling me on their own accord.

[wild-existence]

The Fountain

Lost in misery, I stumble through the day. Eyes glazed over with milky thoughts of memories before this sorrow state. Sins seep out theough me. Morals masqueraded as if they were immovable before, now lay in shambles. Good people don’t end like this, they get better, so where did it all go wrong? Why can’t I stop? The answers my corrupting conscience concocts only worsens my state. Dawn breaks, it’s light blue hue used to heal the darkest nights within me. Now the daylight only dims the despair with disguised demeanors. I stumble through the quiet morning, doing my best not to disturb the developing dew. It feels selfish to exist in the tranquil air that sifts slowly through.

My night ends and day begins at a fountain, it’s white marble looks aged but pure. Cracks and crevices congregate as marvelous stories I wasn’t privy to. Time doesn’t distort its nature, it just hushes its more vibrant hues. I put my hands it’s the water and bring it to my face. Hoping the cold sting could cure crimes committed in my head. It does help, but they don’t disappear either. I guess I’ll live with them a bit longer, the other options terrifyingly linger in a readied stance just waiting for their opportunity to prove their effectiveness. I leave that fountain, it knowing nothing of its power, it knowing nothing of its virtuous acts. It just sits there as a bastion, waiting for the dawn to commit to day.

[wild-existence]

You’re still on the Moon

The rain raged on, it’s cold sting bloomed a beautiful scent which had me meaninglessly debating wether it was worth all its inconveniences. You didn’t seem to weigh the options, if I didn’t know any better it looked like you didn’t even notice the weather. In a different world is where you decided to walk. Envious with only existing on earth, i greedily try to grab your attention. Eventually your eyes find me, every-time I ask for their gaze they seem to take longer to find me. One day I’ll be lost in obscurity to them. You’re so clear to me, I analyze every inch as if seeing you will help you see me. I need to leave you, you’re light years away even when you’re next to me.

[wild-existence]

Finding Forward

The compass and I start to spiral. Purpose evaporates into a fearsome fog in which I can hardly see my own hand. Panic penetrates my composure, the uncertainty quickly engulfs my essence. Taking a step in any direction seems like a lost cause. Will I back track, losing all the progress I’ve crawled to capture. Will I like myself if I turn right? Would left leave the ones I love behind? Paralyzed in possibilities I admit defeat. How can I think of moving with no answer. Living within my own thoughts I hardly noticed something had clasped my hand I had previously lost to fog. I knew this feeling, I’d burned it into my memory with a million repetitions. They had grabbed my hand, and intertwined their fingers with my own. The realization snapped me out of my unraveling. Before I could adjust, their hand pulled me into their direction. My Forward could never be placed on a map, but they show me where to go every time I get lost.

[wild-existence]

I really want to stay at your house.

The night stole my sleep. The heist of those hidden hours keep my eyes heavy. I watched the soft red moon shift across the shallow sky. Even in the liminal prison as I wait to register the morning I almost felt lucky. As my eyes burned in bloodshot veins I could almost feel your gaze staring back at me. I hoped that you looked for me often, selfishly banking on the lonesome rock lived up to its reputation. Do you miss me when you’re so close to the heavens, or do mortals blend into the background. One day I’ll make it up there, I hope we talk like old times. Though I won’t be who you left, and you won’t be the one who needed to reach the sky. I like to think we can still make footprints on common ground. One small step and all.

[wild-existence]

ITS GETTING HOTTER, CANT BREATH. PLEASE BURN BUILDINGS , BURN BUSINESSES BURN GOVERNMENTS BURN BURN THE MILITARY BURN GAS STATIONS BURN FACTORIES BURN STUDENT LOANS BURN LAWS BURN FLAGS BURN LANDLORDS BURN THE POLICE BURN BILLIONAIRES BURN BURN MONEY BURN IT ALL!!! ASHES CANT ANNIHILATE US. ITS THE ONLY WAY.

[wild-existence]

Smithereens

In the form of creaking doors or corrosive dreams, Glimpses of you seem to haunt me. Millions of miles and minutes from where we were yet your magnetism still moves my mind. Passion is apparent, though I wish I could hide it. It’s apart of me now, like horns hefted upon my head, the weight makes it clear that I’m damned to all who glance upon me. To crave apathy feels pathetic, but I long for these sensibilities to just smash into smithereens. Their burning desire left to fade within the wind as an ashy afterthought.

[wild-existence]

I want to make bad art because I feel bad

Ego kills creativity, but my creativity curated my ego. I thought that it made me smart, or it least interesting. The more I felt like that the more I looked at my art for my value. Every flaw in things I used to make for fun felt like failed features of my own being. The things I created caused such irritation in their honestly that I couldn’t write anymore. Either it was imperfect and hurt me, or it was good and didn’t relate to me. I want to be content with my creativity. I want my art to be as bad as I am. Maybe we can both grow genuinely then. I’ll find value in myself, and my art can be whatever it needs to be. I want to make bad art because I feel bad. And I want to make good art when I feel good but that seems easier.