End or Beginning

Happening1

Don’t know what’s happening
What will tomorrow bring
The birds keep on singing
As if loss was nothing

Let’s never forget
That birds have bird brains
Playing like a cassette
After a hurricane

My world falls apart
All my hopes are gone
There is no restart
Nothing to hang on

Why go to bed
Why even wake up
Just to eat bread
And later clean up

Sitting here waiting
What will happen next
Tired of thinking
Of me and my ex

Another beginning
Let’s start over
Don’t feel like dreaming
Why should I bother

Something will happen
I can’t imagine
That this is the end
I just need a friend

But please let it be
Not a love story
My heart is broken
And dead already

Life is a mystery
Death is my destiny
Whatever happens
Might make me happy

Thickheaded Control-Freak

A wrongdoer manipulated my life, like an abuser experimenting with a youngster.  He turned me into a wild animal.  I’m the product of someone’s playful mischief.  Aren’t we all?

My body is a defective vessel — a vehicle which will expire.  Something or hopefully someone will come out of it alive.  A different dummy shall step out of it and face a new reality.

But right now, what am I to do?  Be gloomy?  How can I not be.  I’m this weird creature, controlled by even weirder ones.  There is no way out.  Or is there?  I must wait for the metamorphosis to occur.  I wish the process would accelerate.  Is suicide the answer?

Is killing my body unnatural?  So many do it.  Has it become the norm yet?  We all do it gradually.  Life does it naturally.  I can make myself sick physically.  It’s easy.  But I stubbornly keep my body healthy.  Why?  Maybe because it hurts when I don’t.

But now my soul hurts.  Is it better to have a hurting spirit?  Having to drag this body along is painful.  And when it dies, what kind of body will I be given?  Who will decide?  Maybe I will be able to choose.  My angel said he could shapeshift.  Wow!

I can’t wait to have a shapeshifting body.

My dominant plays god.  That’s what he does.  My evolution would happen naturally if only he would let it be.  But he wants to play divinity.  Prick.  And I’m stuck under his authority for a while.  Like I have a say in what I let my children do.  But kids grow, and sooner or later we lose our authority over them.  It’s a liberation process.  How long will this go on regarding this Daemon?  Does it depend on me or on him?

I am enduring but not so patient.  Let go of me, bitch!

So I ended up here, in this environment.  But still, he has a hold on me.

Let go already, thickheaded control-freak!

I Will Fly

I’ll die.
I’ll die too.
I’ll die to you.
I’ll die to you all.
I’ll die to you, all-mighty.
I’ll die to you, all-mighty god.
I’ll die to you, all-mighty goddamned.
I’ll die to you, all-mighty goddamn society.

Die5

I’ll fly to you, all-mighty goddamn society.
I’ll fly to you, all-mighty goddamned.
I’ll fly to you, all-mighty god.
I’ll fly to you, all-mighty.
I’ll fly to you all.
I’ll fly to you.
I’ll fly too.
I’ll fly.

Dying in Your Sleep

Abduction2

Some people go to bed at night and thank God for all the wonderful things that happened to them during the day.

Not me.

I go to bed at night feeling disgusted, and also relieved that the day is finally over and then I ask God to please let me die in my sleep.

I have a friend who died in his sleep.  His life situation was similar to mine.  He was married, in his forties, had four kids and was healthy.  He died in 2011.

I had not been in touch with him for quite a while, so one day I decided to do an Internet search using his name to see if I could find any information concerning his whereabouts.

I found his obituary!  So then I searched for his sister on facebook and found her.  I sent her a message immediately to get some info about the cause of his death.  She said he had “heart arrhythmia” and died in his sleep.

I thought how lucky he was.  I can’t think of a more pleasant way to die.  I wondered if he had actually wanted to die in his sleep or if it just happened unexpectedly.

Ever since that day, I think of him every night before falling asleep and I wish that the same thing would happen to me.

Depressed people will understand.  There is nothing negative about death.  It is the ultimate metamorphosis of the human being.  Of course I believe in an afterlife, so basically I visualize death as some kind of release, where the real me (the soul) detaches from its eggshell (the physical body) and starts a new life.  To me, death is a birth.

Every morning I wake up, open my eyes, look around the room and think:  “Shit, I’m still here.”

Within My Cocoon

Nymphalidae

Something weird happens when I go inside my cocoon.  It’s like I become two.  My double appears.  But he doesn’t appear physically.  His presence appears.  I become aware of myself as if myself was another person.  So “I” become aware of “myself.”

You see?  We are two:  I and myself.

I become aware of myself when inside the cocoon.  Very bizarre.  And then what happens next?  “I” talk to “myself.”  Or is it myself who talks to I?  Is there even a difference between myself and I?  The two seem to be the same and they are interchangeable.

It’s as if I had a twin.  But this only happens inside the cocoon.  When you look at the cocoon from the outside, there is only one person, not two.  Why is it like this?

I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that this is how the metamorphosis happens.  The dialogue that goes on between myself and I provokes a change!  A change of Self, which is a change of awareness or consciousness.  A growth.  A metaphysical growth.

This might sound very complicated and esoteric but it’s really quite simple.

Metaphysical simply means immaterial, supersensual, not physical (or more properly, “beyond” that which is physical).

Supersensual means beyond the range of what is perceptible by the senses; not belonging to the experienceable physical world.  My dictionary gives a sentence using the word supersensual, which is:  Heaven is a supersensual realm.

Really?  Heaven is a supersensual realm?  Ok, but then so is hell.

So what am I saying?  Where am I going with this train of thought?

Let’s recap.

When my attention turns within, inside my cocoon, my invisible twin appears.  Then we talk to each other, but from the outside it appears that I am talking to myself (crazy person).  The others do not know that I am talking to my double.  The dialogue that goes on between me and my double, especially when written, puts things into place, like building blocks.  This process produces a metaphysical change or a metamorphosis.  It’s the process of building my non-physical reality which we sometimes call heaven or hell.

This thing I do is really important because it determines whether my present and future life will be joyous or desperate, painless or painful, happy or unhappy.

So here’s my conclusion.  Heaven and hell are not rewards or punishments given by some exterior God, they are the result of what I have built for myself while I was inside my cocoon.

Born to Be Alive

Gud08

Alive?

What does it mean to be alive?

Let’s look it up in the dictionary:

– – – – – – – – – –
Alive

1.  Having life; living; not dead.

2.  In a state of action; in force or in operation

3.  Unextinguished; unexpired; existent

4.  Animated; lively; brisk

5.  Having susceptibility or vulnerability

6.  Easily impressed; sensitive

7.  Having feelings, as opposed to apathy
– – – – – – – – – –

So I was born to be all these things?
How am I doing so far?

It’s important to consider because I know I was born.
I also know that I was born on this day.
Today’s my birthday.

The Birth of a Star

Star

Maybe if I would shine so bright, it would blind everyone around me.  They would not be able to come close.  They would not be able to tempt me and rape me.

I should shine so bright and so hot that no one would be able to come near.  They would refrain from approaching and admire me from afar.  Bask in my light from a distance.

Maybe this is what I was meant to be.  A star, not a black hole.  A black hole is dark and it absorbs everything that ventures near it.  It steals everything, becoming denser and denser, heavier and heavier.  It sucks its victims, like a vampire.