Face Oh face
I have lost that grace
Its a wounding game as we chase chase chase
For what is beauty that I cant see
Like a burnt and barren old oak tree
A grotesque but elegant type of thee
Why oh why cant that be me
Instead of a flesh-ball as a head
I want to be bunt, charred, and dead
For that is the most beauty I could be
A burnt and barren old oak tree
Or a blinding light
No fear, no fight
As my eight wings would I take flight
An angel of mercy
An angel of death
An angel of hersey
An angel on meth
And with a sheath
An orb light ghost
Transparent and weak
Yellow cloud eyes
Hundreds staring at mortality knowing and waiting for its time to be
So face oh face
I must go in grace
For now I willnt chase chase chase
To be an angel with such grotesque beauty
I shall only be a pile of flesh; lonely and boney.
Why cant our skins be plastic;
Mold us to our proper manic.
Distribute bones where they belong;
So someday we will sing our song.
The growing pains would be tremendous.
Although we would all look horrendous,
Itd be worth it to see through;
To scrape off allve the caked on dew.
Wed all see how wide our eyes.
And no one would turn a surprise.
Dulled and detained, the Fog wont fight;
Not even for delicious spite.
So that is why we are not plastic
No matter how much we may practice.
And there wed sit bubbled and burned,
Then venge our goreth unto the learned.
Because even a worm will turn.
(The phrase Even a Worm Will Turn means that everybody and everything thing longs for revenge or karma no matter the logic).
Ive been very confused and fascinated with bodies since I can remember and for being a depressed person I have a good body image for whatever reason. And really I think everybody should because I guess the reason for my good self esteem is my nihilism and realism which are blanced and more in the grey area of perspectives (since I am only a fly on the wall and a knowledge theif). And the thing about bodies is that they are really what limit but save us at the same time and I find that intreging. I really just view my flesh vessel as walt whitman's I Sing the Body Electric. Which brings me to another revaltion, on namely gender. I once read a poem that gender is more something to be held on a leash; that it isn't what defines us but what allows us to do certain things but limits us with others socially and a bit physically. To compare, if you have a dog that you have to constantly walk on a leash there are certain apartments you can and can't go into because it will bother other people. Its the same with resturants, but at least you get to go to the pet store often and the dog park without scorn. Think about barber shops vs. salons, remember the huge dilema when women were shaving their heads? think about sports, and clothing, makeup, etc. Although things are getting more and more progessivly mixed there is one factor that I haven't mention yet which is the LGBT+ community but I'll get to that in a moment. The thing with many of these "social segregations" is that there is no reason to even have these labels. Clothing is just fabric, makeup is just pigment, getting a hair cut is simpley cutting hair, pronouns are just a part of lanuage etc. but we have these things because we as humanity have gone so far into catagorizing male vs. female. And now lets talk about LGBT+, I personally used to identify as ftm and I still hold utter respect for the trans and LGBT+ community. Anyways, a big part of tranistioning is social so what is the first thing you do? You get a haircut, buy new clothes, shoes, get rid of makeup, and stop grooming your eyebrows and mustache (for ftm I am only going to speak from expierence). Next it's names and pronouns, which I find very odd that we even separate names and grammar usage, and you ask whoever will support you to call you something different. Then it's medical (I have never gone through the medical part though). And just to clarify, these are the GENERALLY accepted tranistions, one does not need all of these or in this order. But my point is that a large part of it is matierial, why does something that completely has to do with repropuction and hormones have to do with the cloth we wear? It doesn't!! It's completely made up! And this brings me to my last part which is about androgynousity, gender-neutrality, or nonbianary. I would personally identify as one or all of these but I wouldn't change my appearance or medically anything about me because I don't plan on using any of my reporductive organs (if they even work). I believe that femininity and masculinity is mostly a social preference rather than a personal preference and when it is a personal preference it has nothing to do with reporductive roles. And with gender dysphoria is only an intense reporductive and hormonal discomfort (same with nb) and that matierial things have nothing to do with LGBT+ transitions and sexuality. So pretty please stop judging people's flesh vessels and how they decorate them, it sucks enough having a body that isn't a blinding light.
I have come to the realization that a large part of my personality closely resembles the BigFish I spy haunted house game that I used to play with my sister and grandpa. I love/d that game so fucking much as a kid and after being introduced to the internet independently, especially personal/aesthetical blogs/cites, I realized that there is a part of me that will forever yearn and crave to see a dusty cluttered drawer full of miscellaneous bugs, skeletons, candles, playing cards, matches, flowers, marbles, knives, potion bottles, tacs, pins, needles, maps, eye glasses, and small figurines. That I will always walk into a foreign library and pull a book off the shelf expecting there to be a secret whether it be a latch to a passageway or some random object that youd expect to fall out of a dusty Victorian void. And when I hear the word desk my mind will conjure up images of a dusty wooden surface buried underneath layers of dust, paper, utensils, and odd slightly mangled toys and faded figurines. Paintings in my head will always be faded with dust on the elaborate once golden frames where the background is made up of dark reds and oranges or almost gloomy blues with the main focus of the artwork being of a person solemn but once happy and gleeful like a worn photo of a meadow. These paintings of course are usually accompanied with some figurine or skeleton hanging or standing on the frame once again bringing back the reality that this person is far more aged than the dust or even might just be the grey coating itself. and then making another revelation that this is not real, this person isnt even part of an object either but a part of my minds eye influenced by a video game. So many things are influenced by this, jars are dusty and faded, moths are big with astounding designs only to be kept in a faded glass case, soldiers are dusty wooden men with colorfully styled suits from old wars, marbles are accompanied with spider webs and dust and to be found in corners of a dark room with beaten up trim, baseballs are to be cut open to find a hidden note or to be found at the corner of a broken attic window etc. This is not at all to say this is a curse (although it certainly does fit the theme) but merely a subtle influence in my minds eye and other forms of perceiving that I am glad I have because it reminds me of a happy part of my childhood. So to take these thoughts and observations of myself I hypothesize that this is where my fondness of gothic, Victorian, and darker odd aesthetics and secret games comes from. But this is just a ramble because it came to mind and I was in a poetic and self centered mood. In the end I want an old beaten up dusty house because it associates with light-heartedness and child-like feelings (of course with flowering vines holding it together and a bountiful garden). I hope you liked my ramble, good day.
Roses are red,
I love bread.
I shot at a flying cockaroach,
But killed a man instead.