Believe Me, I Know
I'm not going to lie. I don't have the right mind set for all the verbal graffiti that is so amped up to mislead me. I don't like the overall tone of the situations or the circumstance and I really don't care who knows it. Let me show you something, a view inside my mind's eye, if you will. It's full of things that live outside mainstream assumptions. It walks in silent places absorbing minuscule ideas for no damn good reason at all except for to exist. Sounds are a nuisance which can not explain anything outside the context to which I want them to. They're pathetic excuses for insolent aesthetics to which this mortal refuses to accept. Like a painter conditioning a canvas in hopes to bring out a subtlety of something only it imagines as there without someone explaining and demanding, “you will only see what I tell you. What you see is not there.”
Well shut it, I say. I didn't want to see you. Shut your mouth as well as you did your mind and let what’s left of my free thinking explore what is inside it as it wants to see, as it should be allowed. Your oculus of divinations are eschewed for your own liking and oblivious to what all that can be imagined. I am not a genius, in the traditional sense of the word, but oh what an intelligence I have! I am constantly reacquainting myself to words in order not to misspell them for my lack of using them in so long a time. I am continually battling the simple placidity of normalized living to reach out to something where nothing is and pull it into my life, if only for a moment in my intimate sanctuary, to experience an otherwise loss of existence that I well wish to placate as a truth of my own. Not yours, not theirs, not any ones but my own. Because only I can appreciate it. Only I can search it for what I am looking for to balance my eagerness and my imprisonment. Only I know what will satisfy. Only I would care about any of it in the first place because I am the only one who sought it out in the first place, displeased with everyone else's definitions and conditions within controlled elements of neglect.
Believe me, I know better than to try to please anyone but myself. Because everyone else will always want to have their own way no matter what mind I choose to express. They’ll want it to mean something I only imagined. They’ll want it to conjoin with something that it doesn’t , not in that particular moment anyway and they’ll want it to want it because they weren’t there. They couldn’t possibly have seen it the way that I did. They can’t. They only want control because that is their way. While I on the other hand am, not so much. For you see, the very idea of freedom has been made a slave to the standards of others who write the narratives of the living. Some say to bring order, some say to preserve economics while still others say only they are worthy to. To which I and many others would beg to differ because after all in our only one lifetime, our only one life experience, our only one existence on this earth as we know it, have never experienced a true freedom to explore as we wished without precedents and disclosures, some enclosures and a mono opinionated description of a not so wholesome context. Be that as it may, my still most basic being still longs for those days that await unexplored and undefined to ransack them like a small child seeing the world for the first time and am deciding what it is I want to see, want to know, want to taste, want to hear, want to remember from a moment when all of my senses were deciding on what I would describe later as a moment in time somewhere, and only God knows why, that I wanted to live a little without being told I was wrong. Now if you'll excuse me, I just saw a flower and I have petals to pick. Jade Jaspers
