Post-Sods

The sky feels infinitely distant even though I'm aware it has a finite thickness. I'm pouring all of my sidethoughts into another place for it to stay. I am only a vessel for the rest of the world.

Iron and tannins in the water stain my teeth, and it becomes hard for me to keep my head out of the clouds. I am torn between knowing I know everything and knowing I know nothing, and reminding myself to live in the grey. I should learn to give more people the benefit of the doubt, and I should learn not to trust first impressions.

I get an unrestrained pleasure out of scrubbing bathtubs, and sometimes I forget to brush my teeth for days. I live in ways that would horrify my parents, but I'm working hard to let them know that I'm okay. I'm okay. I'll be okay, always. Today, I worked my muscles; this weekend, I ride.

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10 October 2013 23:32

(void)

There is beauty in the grey. There is an endless, incomprehensible range of existence between the absolute black and the absolute white, a freedom and flexibility for forms to take whatever shape they wish in that ambiguous space. They are wisps of fog, pools of water that can fill in the gaps left by solid objects and then disappear just as easily.

Be like the plasma, like air, like poured mortar, the glue that holds the pieces together or the buffer to keep them separate. Take up no space, cause no disturbance, but remain infinitely flexible and present as the embodiment of the void.

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25 September 2013 11:19