I sit shaking into the ether. Every inch of my being trembles. From electricity? Anticipation? Magnetic fields? Love? It’s hard to know which of these direct the shake. The steady shake of life. What if it were the drugs? Would I feel the need to write about it? How pretentious would that be? Only as pretentious as I am.
I wish I was a machine. Lacking heart with a sustained consciousness. Maybe then each minute that passed would just be one more instead of one less. My hands shake when I stop writing. Have I made a wise decision? This record that I hear, will it be the one I make? To be trustworthy is to be worthy of trust. That is not to mean capable of trust. It’s hard for me to trust anyone and have yet to realize if myself has somehow been included. I'm fearful of love.
Are my words mine? If my life was without music, would I be relevant today? What if you were me? What if I was somewhere? If I could know, would the shakes continue or calm? A world of untruths is just a world but a world of truths is art. Watch me shake.
JP
2009
"There is no coming to consciousness without pain."
--Carl Jung
No comments:
Post a Comment