Conflict. You’re sitting there and you’re finally putting it all down on paper, your doing the whole testi-fucking-fy thing. You’re doing it for you, but what the hell, someone might recognise the insanity, or even find comfort in knowing they aren’t alone in their madness.
Cause that is what it is. Maybe not to me, or even to you. But to others it is. To dream, to know, to understand, to see, to be uncon-fuckng-tent. That is truly insane to the sheep of the world.
And so I dream and get lost in my madness. And I am happy this way.
I will tell you a secret. I think some days that I might like to sit in a corner and retired from the world and retreat into my head, into my dreams.
But than I remember I love this world too much to retreat just yet. And of course there are the children, whose dreams are just beginning. And there is the world within the world, of which I am eternally bound. So no, no going to sleep just yet.
The heat from the match is almost burning my fingers. Yeah, I’d like to burn it all the fuck down again. But you see, it never stays fucking burnt.
Maybe when the art is finished it will stay burnt. But I doubt it.
I missed what I did. So I started doing again. Now I feel like I am burning. It’s how it goes. It’s the burn. It’s what brings you back each time. That burn man.
I am fascinated with masks. With hidden faces. It’s been going on for a while. We think we take off our masks, but we don’t ever really, they just become so embedded in our skin, so much a part of us, that we don’t even know we are wearing them. Even when we have “leveled up” we are still wearing masks. Not none of us are completely bare.
How many masks have I burnt? Mz Mo does not keep count, but looks disgustingly at the fire pit of burnt ashes of a life that is broken beyond repair – yet keeps trying to mend itself.
My family may disown me, the world may call me crazy and label me insane, people may think I am strange, strangers may call me a freak, but I know who I am, and I dance to my own beat in the rain, and that is something that is so beautiful that it heals the heart of the hurts, if even only for a little while…
I sit on the edge of having it all, it is a jungle out there and I am adapted to not just survive, but to live. One day, I WILL have it all, and the jungle will be tamed and my life will be lived and I shall live on here, forever immortal in the words of my dreams.
‘And all the prophecies were true, careless words blown on the winds of fate crashed around her like snow falling gently to the ground, and she wept because she could not understand why the snow turned to water and washed away, taking the words of her dreams, but leaving the mud of those spoken against her’ ~ The MJ Diaries