Do We Just Accept?

Sometimes you can know exactly why you are doing what you are doing. Even if it is bad. Even if it is wrong.
And sometimes, that isn’t enough to stop you.

People are good at justifying things. Events.Choices.

Past plays a big part in all of us. We can point fingers to it, every time we do something that doesn’t add up under the ‘right thing to do’ column.
Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever break loose or free from our mind structure. The bones of our brain.
I wonder if it is better to just accept what we do and in life, find someone that understands and accepts what you are, because they accept what they are too.

You Are You

There comes a point and time where you realize you’ve been quiet for three years.
You were always a good listener, but you still spoke to people.
And when you figure out that you’ve been unhealthily quiet, it isn’t something you fix right away.
It isn’t conversation that pops up easily.
It’s a lot of thought maze.

People need to talk.
They need an outlet. Even if it’s just a blog.
But they must, they must get something from whatever they are divulging in.

Sometimes people speak to drugs.
And that can be so enticing.
Because drugs can feel that they listen.
For a time they do.

Until your body is shutting down because the ears of the effect, have fallen off.
Because eventually they will.
They always do. And we don’t always know it. And sometimes we need outside influence to tell us.

Sometimes, it’s just ourselves.
That tell us, it’s all wrong.
That, listening, that unspeaking, isn’t good.

So we should probably listen to ourselves.
Even if people tell us a lot about ourselves,
we’re still learning, from the core of us,
we learn about us.

And we can know that,
but
acting on something that has felt wonderful to do,
even if it’s not morally correct,
is more difficult then it reads out.

Connections Big and Small

Shadow of large long branch on beige wall.
Moving because that’s the moves of the century.
Moving because that’s the way to feel the world.

And conversation with parents voices. In my headphone ears.
One was in Canada. And the other in Brazil.
And there I sat in Thailand, on a wooden bench with bats winging around my head.

Special feelings are ones where only certain people or things can make happen.
They can be small.
Like shadows on walls.
Or big. Like family.

They can be big like culture.
Culture doesnt fit in my head. It comes bustin out of my ears and I write about it like I’m reliving it and all those feelings comes swimming over. Easily.

Small things that poke your mind and feels good. A connection. Within yourself. Like you’re the one laughing at your own joke. The joke you told inside your head.
Because her hands massaging my face, smelled like a bubble bath I had years ago. Because that smell rolled up a memory and a frame of time I hadn’t thought of in years.
And love gets to be both big and small.
Because small things can happen and you connect it with love. And big things happen that we attach love to, too.
Like proposing.
I’ve never been proposed marriage before.
But I’m married.
And have been proposed hundreds of things.

And it is later than what it was earlier
So that’s usually a good a sign as any
To get into the clouds of Sleepville.