I Have Inside-Out Vision

[Ozymandias]

I can't write.

 

I can't think.

 

I cannot stay calm.

 

I will not hold onto my peace, no matter how much I want to.

 

The fury is overwhelming; the selfishness like tinder.

 

Hate exists for all wrong, and no person.

 

Love is there, for all and sundry.

 

It's a strange, and highly disturbing feeling, wishing quite so sincerely to carve pieces off of anyone you love- with blades or teeth.

 

Corruption is recognized, despised, and all too often left to run free in full view of its herder.

 

Righteousness is never truly dimished, but bent double when such things happen, sagging with the weight of as much of the world's sadness as it can shoulder.

 

Corruption has infected even righteousness now, too- it is simple logic, and fact that there are simply some things we cannot do alone. The infection running through righteousness' veins robs it of the ability to remember this simple truth, and so it's back bends again, as it shoulders much more than it can carry.

 

Wrath sits in its cage, brooding; lashing out through the bars precisely, viciously, and vindictively at any who veture too near. It still remains monumentally quieter than it was in days of old.

 

Still, that toothy maw slavers, ever so slightly, at the mere sight of human.

 

Confusion sits over it all, or sometimes capering and dancing about through everything, laughing, unceasingly, and without a trace of sanity.

 

The truly disturbing part is that it never takes a breath. It simply lets fly with vampiric, entropic merriment without an end in sight.

 

The guardian too, moves through it all, whispering words of comfort in the hopes that they are heard, when his helping hands are slapped away. Sometimes, there is no sign of recognition. He continues on his rounds anyway, offering aid where it is accepted, encouragement where it is not - both, too when the intended recepient is all but deaf, blind, and unfeeling; in the cleverest, subtlest ways, to reach in past that formidable wall.

 

 

Love and pain.

 

Neither one owes its existence to the other; yet they are intextricably intertwined.

 

...it would seem.

[Vigil StarGazer]

Love is Pain.

 

In it's own twisted form of agony, love is to give... to lose everything: your pride, your time, your wealth, your health, and eventually yourself.

 

Love is the ultimate existances where two meld into one, both in body and in spirit. The agony is in the fight that shed your own bits and pieces to rescramble... comphenciate... (not even compromise) but to embrace the other's wimpse and personality even if it is flawed. Even then the two cannot completely mingled. Like two colors of sand mixed into one it seems like another, but looking deeply it's just a mixture of the two colors of sands.

 

Love is pain, no pain no gain, but all gained in vain.

 

It's embedded in the depths of our neuros, where sodium shed it's electrons so the pulse of electrons can fire up into our brains. Our brains wired in a way where the region of pain and amoria affects the same region.

 

When we water our plants, the plants will grow and bloom; when we take care of our pets they obey and play. We give, and it was returned as expected. When we love... we lost, or we do not like what we receive.

 

Love is giving... where it gives to it seemed to vaporized completely. It's a feeling that cannot be transmitted. Often unfelt, misinterpreted, confused... The rose dies in sorrows.

 

Yet we only live and die. Therefore there is nothing else but love.

 

 

(gotta love stream of thoughts writing)