nothing (to be understood)


personalities so explosive they can be broadcast via global satellite
speaker digitalized movies, leaving receptive peoples flattened in their
wake. individuals so gravity warping the masses get sucked in.
so in all this noise of projected desirous ego image, where do those with no
force of distinction get seen, heard, and felt? where do the in-betweens,
the not notably beautiful or distorted lives live?
i’m thinking of my thoughts, of all the bubbled worlds that burst against
the pane of my reality. i’ve been sitting in front of a blank computer
screen every night, struggling to collect the dots of my happiness. but
they are not worthy of being advertised. they are half-baked, they are
indifferently mundane, they are ungraspably cosmic, they are half-full, they
are half-empty.
sometimes i can relate to things so well i ignore them. until i look
closely at them, and listen, and discover the fissures in my understanding.
to craft a complete universe requires concentration; it needs persistence;
it takes daily struggle and hunger and work. i have been allowing myself to
become complacent. i am fattened on the silence of my soul’s music. it
drains to give. it hurts to change. i allow others to tell me how i feel,
and i allow my vision to become veiled in black and white, in a clarity
unearned, in a righteousness not believed. and i have laid me down and
closed mine eyes and prepared for death. and i have grown a craving larger
than my need. and i have let myself become possessed by ambition for fame,
desire for power, and fear of loss.
how can i ever treat another living creature as equal, when i want to be
better than them?
how can i ever love another human being, when i want to be loved by them?
how can i ever write to you?

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Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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