Sunsets and Canvas Art hidden behind systems and formulas

Your life is but a passing phase, a dying candle, a brilliant, yet short lived sunset, an addiction in remission, a canvas blotched and smothered by incompatible colors, a cathedral full of beauty and lore rotting at it’s cornerstone. And so am I.
I am a paradox. And I am a paradox not of good and evil or truth and lies or love and hate but of me and me. I am the paradox of humanity. For what I am is what I’m not, and what I’m not is what I wish to be.

I’m built upon a block of rubber hopes, controlled by hinges of fate repressing and suppressing my ever, loosening grasp on hope.

And I feed on a sort of mental grass which instigates a sort of brain fart for I am intellectually malnourished.

I have not left my home. Nor shall I leave my room.

And one and one equals two is all that makes sense, and all I’m hearing is that if I do that then this will happen, and if I push this then that will happen and that is a bad thing to have happen, and if I do this that way then both this and that will happen, and those are good things to happen. And I’m being thrust into programs and systems.

And I’m afraid.

And with each passing phase a candle dies, I wonder when Hanukah begins. Or rather, when it ends.

And I wait for light to creep out of the east as I battle my own internal prison wards and there’s a picture lacking an artist, the colors need rearranging- but at least I have system and programs. I think sarcastically. I think. At least I think. I think to myself.

And I have not left my home, nor shall I leave my room. For perhaps in here I can avoid being real, and yet remain real in the only sense in which I actually enjoy functioning. I can revel in reality devoid of fact but steeped in truth, lacking in data but complete in knowledge, and lost to the world but found to…..


And I’m so alive when I’m not eating grass. And I can breath when I’m spending all of my time remembering and recounting the things which are really real….to…..

Me. I’m simply me, a simple ''dude'' locked in his own home, locked in his own heart, starving for something to build up an intellect…and I’ve got grays and blacks and reds and blue’s like the sky and the water, and I just need an artist to put it all together…

And then there’s you...and me and you and me together, and we’ve long ago forgotten to rely on systems cause they’ve failed us before, and we’ve counted all the times that we’ve forgotten who we are, but counting is our first mistake and we forgot to wait. To simply wait. Cause its so much more real than systems. Faith. The Realest of all words.

And You could paint me, make my blues like Yours and my reds like You. And make me colorful, like a rainbow from Your home.

And then there’s you and me. And I’m alive again, and its all real again.

And formula is not the answer cause it can’t answer questions asked by heart.

AND FAITH.

And this simple "dude", has cracked his door.
But they’ll NEVER get in!

And FAITH…

Is soo real tonight.