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Showing posts from August, 2021

Selective Empathy

  A selective empathetic is a more sinister evil than the outright unempathetic. The unempathetic is quite small in numbers, and are under more scrutiny. The selective empathetic is one of reflective desire, picking and choosing those to be glad for and wishing to prosper based off of desired personal gain, gain that involves putting others down in the process. This level of empathy is pure submission to outside preachers, outside systems, media, literature, art, and economics, and represents a dark and fallible inner sense. Letting things simply happen, apathetic to their greater truth, nihilistic in meaning, and a walking product of guiding forces around them. A pure empathetic is empathetic to all in all situations, noticing the humanity in all. It is sad to notice the selective empathetic being a prevalent and lauded endeavor, when the qualities of such selective empathetic are thought of also as manipulation. A great contradiction in social morality and personal character judgeme

My Precious One.

My precious one, That lies in the darkness of the sun, I fear, there's nothing I can do for you. I've remembered your cries, I don't know which ones are lies, I can't seem to see the real you. We can't look back, I can't bear to see your eyes sad, I will fall victim to the blue. Green swaths pave the road to your soul, My brain, and my heart have taken a toll, Precious one, do you bid ado? No more lying; Let's live with the stress. I know this relationship was once blessed, But now, its tainted. Our minds were once painted with swerved willow trees, And all of their dancing leaves were connected through one branch. And at that time, we had beautiful visions of having our own ranch, But these were all lost to the moon. "There are things you don't know about me", she said, And together, we split the last of our bread, As she tipped her flowers upon her head, "goodbye". I sat there, listening to the crunches of the roadside, Watching her

📔 Journal Entry 2: Changes

 Some will say the day comes and goes, And some will be caught in its glory, or even its deadliness. Days will go by either way, whether you long for a better tomorrow, you have that better tomorrow, or you are nihilistic. At some point, the recognition of your stay isn't enough, and you will disappear into unwatedness. And then you will even have thoughts destroyed of your being. Wishful thinking breeds your mind, your will, your want of virtue, and even your love. But this wishful thinking, although it's your essence, is completely disregarded. Sometimes there will be points in your life in which destiny has no direction. Those points define your desires. Those points are really sharpening you, as an individual. If matter is you, you won't be alive in matter. Consciousness is not real, you are simply too difficult to be alive. And yes, you won't be you anymore.


The dusk is to the Dawn  As the crowns to the peasants, There lived a full girl on the top of Mount Pleasant. So refined and drooled, Her waist was all full, She sat on her stool Awaiting a tool And from the tool She would grasp the meaning, And the voices in her head would not be demeaning Before the rooster crowed And the morning cow huffed, The girl took a deep breath and out came a puff And the puff blew her voice to the store And the voice was heard from the first floor And the sound echoed back from the door "Woe is me, the holiest of whores."