days like these...
noted disappointment towards the inner fight that shouldn't be there.
the fear propels the physique into jumps and sudden bursts of energy trying to get away from the conflicted middle where logic fights emotion, and emotions themselves face each other as we split Eros in two - the Earth and the Divine - placing a seemingly contentious preset. But is it, really?...
days like these, in which the mind is nothing but the absolute everything and the body moves while static and the only thing that is aware and fearful is the soul - where reality lives and where it is fed.
obnoxious hunger and despair for a quietness that allows for movement, for a reassurance that will create enough doubt to give creativity a much needed impulse.
days like these, in which during the forceful dancing and jumping around save all the next days... and all life still left.
days like these, in which the body wakes up with feverish anxiety, still dragging the nightmares around as fresh as the water that dripped from the walls of the building in ruins, I had to stay in during said sleep hallucination. A place so vile that it becomes real for the soul. In the dark, in loneliness, in fear, and heading to conformity if not awaken just in time to save the sanity that is already barely there... waking up confused and burning hot, feeling the ocean inside the head as the dizzy spells insist in having their like show running.
days like these, in which fears are to be admitted to oneself and faced right in the eyes - which happen to be on a surface we call "mirror". In which there is no recognition of the self as they engulf the self in the same fear we see in the eyes; what is left is the clear dissonance between knowing we are alive and being able to be alive.
days like these, in which the brain does not accept information outside itself, spiralling into a conscious lack of control that feeds that intense fear I write about... the lack of control, the control I so clearly try to despise but cannot live without.
days like these, in which the logical side of the soul is at war with the passion running amok as it usually goes. Where the brain has a look at the soul and tries to negate its existence, as it would be much easier to be unaware of all struggles and conflicts I typically run away from. To not be able to avoid them is the punishment, along with the burning, feverish body that runs from the nightmare on high alert - it becomes impossible to escape.
unless you dance and jump. As I say, always jump. There is nor there will never be a better solution for all the decision-making processes we happen upon every single fucking day as jumping for it. Whatever "it" might be at the moment, there is no time to be wasted - if you flinch and look down, if you are scared of those particular heights that live in yourself, it will only leave you with the vague perception of what if's and a long sad tale of a long exposure picture that captures the moment in which that opportunity raced past you, in full-fledged detail and colour, with a clear melody that will live inside and repeat itself over, and over and over and over until the next jump.
a next jump might never happen again. A fate I find to be worse than death for my little resilient yet fragile soul - the real me in between brain and body -, a fear that relentlessly burns day in and day out, impossible to clear out as I have finally laid to rest the swords. Surrender.
just fucking get on with it and dance. Dance with all your soul and let the movement and sound distract you enough from the fear - it is the only authentic way to live through the next day, the next nightmares, the next anxieties and insecurities.
there shall be enough energy to dance...
there shall be enough awareness for control but never letting logic run around as much as the soul.
a heaven, a gateway, a hope
addendum: quite like you, quite like me
