what i learned about life


faith is detrimental, if apportioned unwisely.
i have never seen god, never touched god, smelled it, tasted it, fucked it...i have never been god.
i wasn’t raised to believe in god, per se.
i am disenchanted with people who were, essentially, mentally trained from birth that god is in the
shape of a human, and i am sick of people touting that pretentious image as if one member of
our own race is the savior of the other several billion.  i can’t bring myself to assume that.
i don’t assume that the teachings of the bible are relevant and i don’t assume that if i get on
my knees and live a “holy” life and pray twice a day, before dinner, and before i go to bed, that
when i die i’ll be taken to heaven or some other paradise where i’ll remain for the rest of eternity.
i have no idea what happens when people die, or where their entities exist or where born souls
come from.  i don’t even know what i am except to look in the mirror and make assumptions
about my being.  so i don’t see why i should think that anyone else with an image similar to mine
is going to be any more devout.  i find myself to be an agnostic: someone who believes that a
god exists but is not relevant to human life whatsoever.  this is the best plausible explanation
i can find that fits the description of a ‘god’.  if i created an entire race of beings and never
revealed my identity or true self in any way to any of them, would they not believe that their
creator is in their image, even if it were wholly different than my own?  of course they would.
even if i was their polar opposite.  how can we say that god is in our image when we don’t know
what it looks like?

another problem i have with believing in god in the religious sense is that something had to
create god before it could exist, and i don’t have the slightest idea what that entity would be.
and if that were so, then what created god’s creator?  and what created that?  and so forth...
so i have formed my own opinions based on what i know about life, and i truly believe that god
is an invisible, intangible, and indivisible entity in every respect, that is the foundation of
eternity and infinitude as is.  the only existent object i know that is invisible, intangible,
and indivisible is an atom.  atoms make up everything that is, as opposed to what is not.
they compose everything that is real, alive, visible, or tangible in any way, shape, or form.
therefore i believe that god is the atomic mass that makes up the universe we exist within.
it has nothing to do with the creation of life on earth or, for that matter, anywhere else
life exists.  it is life.  

self-loathing is suicide without death.
i have a substantial inferiority complex, but i could still be a star if you paid me.

the nose is crooked,
the birth mark looks like a third nipple,
down the right knee slithers a five-inch scar, resultant of a freak rate of growth,
the facial hair is uneven, the ribs portrude unnaturally from the chest,
the veins in the forearms are tangible,
the left pectoral muscle is largely deformed, and i still feel beautiful.

i can’t look anyone in the eye when i’m talking.
i’m shy in sociable way.
i wish i knew how life compares to death.
i believe that casual sex is a myth.
i’m still trying to understand myself.
it helps me write.


time transcends even eternity itself.
	if it even exists,
something that a human can neither prove nor deny.
	it makes no sound, creeping up
behind each and every one of us
at some point in our lives.
	it has no shadow
and yet all i can think of is darkness
in its wake,

	scared, for we are so
frightened by what time may have in store for us.
it plays with our fragile minds and taunts
our conscience by traveling inversely
to what we desire of it.
	it makes happiness seem fleeting
	and agony seem eternal.
it’s almost too much to bear, the wretchedness
of those tiny little hands, spiraling round and round
in circles, irreversible
and powerful enough to humble even the most
omnipotent of the gods.

love is never to be understood.
when lying in her arms, i speak no words.
she is my silence.
there is no time for meaningless drivel.
i can make as many sounds as i please.
and none of them will matter.
she already understands me even when i’ve said nothing of my cause.

stop saying i love you, she moans.
a kiss is all i’ve ever lusted.
touch me in places i never knew existed.
forget that i’m not beautiful, forget that i’m perfect in every other way.

i never understand what makes her feel like this.

sex is chemical.
that is to say, casual sex is just another way of expressing an inability to control one’s natural
desire to procreate with the opposite gender.

but when i’m in love, it almost means more to me than anything in the world.

sex lies somewhere around the top of the love mountain.  not at the top, but close.  if you
pick it apart, down to its fundamental definition, you find that all it can ever be is the
equivalent of millions of chemical reactions in the bodies of two ordinary people.  which is, by
nature, fairly meaningless if you ask me.  so why not wait til you’re in love instead of searching
for someone to merely relieve your carnal instinct?  how than that bring you happiness?

money makes us all worthless.
take all your fucking credit cards, ATM machines, banks, treasuries, gold mines, whatever the hell
you think is valuable currency.

find a nice big hole.

dump it all in.

i guarantee that most of your problems will leave you.  no more high society, people work for one
another, favors for favors, we all exist together because no one is more wealthy than their
neighbors.  money is dictatorial.  people use it to get what they want.  they use it to maim their
enemies.  to buy their way out from under the law.  they fight for it in droves, scheming in the
schism of the public community to crawl to the top of the world.  it’s all a human wants these days,
it’s the American and Mexican and German and British and Russian dream to be the next mogul in
the mansion on the big hill.  hey, fuck you.  i’m down here with the rest of us.  i hate communism
with all my heart but i hate money even more and i hate how it rules my life in every sort of way.
it keeps the young from independence, it keeps the old from dying quietly in their homes, it
keeps the middle-aged from having some semblance of security in life.  fuck your profits.  i wish
money didn’t have to mean anything to me.  but it does.  because if i want to live the way i
know how, to be educated properly, to exist in the real world, i need money.  and a lot of it.

i need you.
and if there’s one thing in this world i can’t have, it’s a witness.
a witness to take heed of my priceless verbiage, a witness to wash the blood from my tongue,
someone to watch me when i’m dreaming.

look at me.  turn your beady eyes and just look at me.
if you don’t see anything, it’s because i don’t really exist.
i’ve left my mark on paper, in little ink dots
to surround your every whim.

don’t you start to understand just yet.  i’m not finished.

i learned a lot of things just by being alive, but none of them will mean anything
when i die.
all this social jargon, useless nostalgia of memory, money and sex and fame and god and time
and everything that means nothing
when you reach the great beyond.

i learned all of that just because i have eyes.
i used them.
and it hurt so much.

i took that pain and let it kill me.

now look at what’s left of me.
empty space.
a clear box full of old, dusty toys.
never to be used again.
	if only they didn’t feel so plastic when i touched them.

i learned that there’s a lot about this life i’ll never know,
and even more that i’ll have long forgotten by the time i’ve
found what i was looking for.

i learned that i can be anyone i want to
and say anything i want to
and think everything that comes to mind,

but without you, all these letters can do
nothing but stare into the darkness,
and wait,

in hope that the light will someday shine on them once more.

(END)




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