#forest words

[mayakovsky-jung]

The ecstasy of your name ... the pandemic of pleasure ... In every season of the year, your arrival is always: Delightful, perennial, immune, incessant, continuous ..... My pampered entity, dynamo of inspiration ... With you I remain fused ... I only want with you to disappear, in total  ingnition, ... Boreal .. your spirit, my Mesmer ... Let's build a Le chat noir, - I fill with joy - Or maybe a black forest, like the Silfídes of love in the water .... Always with pearls ... ..

MORPHINA- Давид-D/M

[viperslang]

{4th Feb 2013}

As I push my physically inhabited self to punishing limits, I finally carve out of my corporeal existence a Self that is not saturated by the pathos of pain; that has transcended the cursory circuit of injury and welfare. Keep the circle small. Keep the circle strong. Trajectory. Ascent. Deft negotiations with an unyielding rock. Meditating mid-line like a bird in Hagakure. Lessons in how volatile gravity - that force we rest all our theories against - is in itself. Stave off possession. Acquaint with belonging. You're in Becoming. A cognitive chrysalis. Your life is a bridge not a terminus, not an outcome. We resist out Beginnings with such ego-laden vehemence. Then ponder irritated as to why the material of life won't shape us anew. This wandering is necessary too; this anonymity of being, this vagabond breath flowing in and out like thread held to breeze. It has become essential for me to break myself down periodically so I can retain visibility into the smallest aspects of my composition. I sunder to not merely survive but to gain a new lightness, to learn how to soar in abject bodylessness. Hence these gruelling expeditions to behemoth of boulders. 

Because, despite the brualities of my childhood, every time I was asked - "What do you want to do with your life?", my response always was - "Everything". 

I keep documenting these trials so if I ever do lose my mind, I have the records of a life I lived. Not existed within but, emphatically, lived.