the question of self
how does one solve the question of self?
whats the question he asks, and i answer, who am i?
he tells me that its a collection of character traits, and other things, like experiences.
i wonder if its a matter of how i relate to the world. or something even more abase, like what they think of me. or how i feel about myself. or the despisable what i do for work.
who am i? i keep asking the question. needing an answer. blue eyes and curly hair. scotch and a scooter. a witch. a bitch. an artist. a smoker. what else? i'm 30. i've survived another day.
i trail there. there's more but, i keep forgetting. it might be instinctive, for i don't know what biological purpose to forget the love, to forget the pain, to forget fact that you're beautiful, to forget the torture of amazing memories, because who knows if any of it was really true, anything in this life... so forget. let it go...
the question of self comes down to the battle between good and evil. like comic books. the choices one makes when faced with choices. and those choices constantly telling of who we are. who am i. the video is running.
who is she? beautiful. messy. wild. voracious. passionate.
like a comic book character, she was beautiful and dangerous. a piercing gaze of blue eyes that hid... what? everything and nothing. magic. and now she's bold, and now she's shy, and now she speaks of how much these eyes give away and now she hides them...
focus.
who am i.
i am quiet.
moral dilemma.
and now he calls.
-----------a talk.--------------
and now here, back here,
i watch myself moving on the screen of this moment to moment life. the curly piercing blue sensuality that is me, i am this force, and to deny it is to deny nature. and i crumbled to see the sadness in my face, i felt sick, facing my hypocrisy. moral dilemma indeed. but look again and see beauty, tragic self tortured beauty. so hold the secrets. maybe that was tonight's lesson. still. be still and listen....
you are nothing that you give away, and more than that when you hold still.
you are black curls and white skin. blue eyes that hold wisdom, compassion and pain. a body that aches from self exhaustion, a heart that carries the burden of feeling. and most obviously, a seductress.
that is what you always wanted to be when you grew up, no?
whats the question he asks, and i answer, who am i?
he tells me that its a collection of character traits, and other things, like experiences.
i wonder if its a matter of how i relate to the world. or something even more abase, like what they think of me. or how i feel about myself. or the despisable what i do for work.
who am i? i keep asking the question. needing an answer. blue eyes and curly hair. scotch and a scooter. a witch. a bitch. an artist. a smoker. what else? i'm 30. i've survived another day.
i trail there. there's more but, i keep forgetting. it might be instinctive, for i don't know what biological purpose to forget the love, to forget the pain, to forget fact that you're beautiful, to forget the torture of amazing memories, because who knows if any of it was really true, anything in this life... so forget. let it go...
the question of self comes down to the battle between good and evil. like comic books. the choices one makes when faced with choices. and those choices constantly telling of who we are. who am i. the video is running.
who is she? beautiful. messy. wild. voracious. passionate.
like a comic book character, she was beautiful and dangerous. a piercing gaze of blue eyes that hid... what? everything and nothing. magic. and now she's bold, and now she's shy, and now she speaks of how much these eyes give away and now she hides them...
focus.
who am i.
i am quiet.
moral dilemma.
and now he calls.
-----------a talk.--------------
and now here, back here,
i watch myself moving on the screen of this moment to moment life. the curly piercing blue sensuality that is me, i am this force, and to deny it is to deny nature. and i crumbled to see the sadness in my face, i felt sick, facing my hypocrisy. moral dilemma indeed. but look again and see beauty, tragic self tortured beauty. so hold the secrets. maybe that was tonight's lesson. still. be still and listen....
you are nothing that you give away, and more than that when you hold still.
you are black curls and white skin. blue eyes that hold wisdom, compassion and pain. a body that aches from self exhaustion, a heart that carries the burden of feeling. and most obviously, a seductress.
that is what you always wanted to be when you grew up, no?
posted by sheloves at 9:09 PM
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