Eel

Obsolete

i remember it all now.
a dream cycle like no other,
floating colors, vapors,
weightless,
and real.
frequencies in and out at every angle. understanding is what to do next.
moment by moment.
a body of suffering since birth.
and we breathe in life,
and breathe out death,
and contemplate out to the end of our contemplating days,
irrational organs, burst into light,
running towards the sky, studying the
pushes and pulls and ins
and outs and what
ifs
and
what could be.

reality is extricable. we are disposable to nature.
and if it is possible, it exists, but the realm of possibility -
back again with my old friend, the room of choices,
trapped between a web of my own faulty mindsets and inferiority complex unlike no other.
the brain drips into itself,
merging into timelines,
confronting infinite selves,
wondering if there was and is and will be always,
but to be is to be.

poetic is the romanticism of it all -
how our contributions mean nothing,
when we kill and birth every day,
on a scale unlike any other,
as so nature and time and space would have us,
so we danced endlessly,
a masquerade of smirking haughtiness,
learning to learn, running to run,
living to live. but my thoughts bleed out of me and they call it poetry.

but to be afraid to die - to live for someone else,
even if it is a selfish desire,
enables us to be inclined towards evolution and understanding,
for intelligence enables us to live longer,
but the king and the pawn always end in the same box.

so we walk forth,
looking into the sky again and thinking about the
realm of possibility, the room of choice,
the echoes of your ancestry.
networks and connections and networks and connections -
just overlaying again, in ways that tries to process infinity,
in understanding unknown,
embracing uncomfortable light,
hurtful truth, detached reality - you must figure out your own rules early on.

youtube videos are like us,
operating on our brains in real time,
just modifying it to take information in about the world in an easy to digest way.
our brains a filter, we hallucinate always, and change something for the worse,
or for the better. flow state feels like i'm bleeding, it feels like my brain racks itself endlessly to understand itself,
how our behavior makes us, how us makes our behavior, how us are we and we are us.
inserted into my subconscious like weapons, eating
weaker thought, growing stronger,
gaining power, giving focus,
to delegate that power efficiently and independently and beautifully - that is the purpose of life,
despite its savage, cruel nature,
in all pain we understand happiness,
and in all our tears we understand suffering,
in all our hate we understand love.

what i really love to do, seeking flow -
being more present in the moment,
breathing in my all and engaging with my presence,
for it's the least that we,
or i,
can do.