The thing about the pain of a man is
it's the only form of justice he sees when he tries to create something
it's the form of art that give him real depth to look at the world of how it is.
well for the people it's the constant discomfort
they take it to lengths with a certain piece of art
or a certain symphony that grabbed them by their wits
and for the artist, it's the search for pains in pain
to be okay with what was in front of them
either it's his piano
either it's the boxing match of a thousand punches
either it's the lottery ticket that could help him out
either it's his own bringing because pain is the only companion he had for years
either it's a love of his loneliness of solitary corner
either it's a wait
a simple wait
wait for something profound to come to him so that the pian has its answer of why it came and went
they will either come to love me or leave me in the dying ditch
lying silently
Man and pain
centuries of people had wasted with the idea of the great solitary man who could carve his name because he suffers greater than the rest of men
if that is true, then the competition is no more
the more the greater search for anything
the greater the time consumed with the wait that will wake him up to show his own facts and reality of a solitary delusional man keeping his own wits
only degrading him
but he is tough
because man and men has always been tough
everybody is tough
the women carrying his child from street to street asking for money is tough
even the person who refuses to listens about the changes is tough
even the child at the age of 2 is tough
but one thing the child has than the rest of us does not.
Its the truth in the real sense of it
he is more with the reality than us because that is how he is so expressive about what he feels
but if the child in us is not changed , then it will only bring great pain to everyone
because the world has become a different sectors of different institution, that needs a certain degree of clarity that can only be brought from reacting to it through as it is than what we want it to be.
child in us is always there and will always will be
but being the child is only great when you are trying to create a form of art
being a child with your words
with your hope towards life
with your degree in sensing an unusual feeling of a certain day
with your love
with your loneliness
you being a child is a great assets in the form of being human
and the rest of you, you need to figure that out.
the delusion that we take with ourselves to make something alive
then comes a reality that pushes our reasons aside
to tell us what shit of piles of garbage is this!
that is your art.
that is your pain
that is the pain that as a man I carry
I carry it around my waist as I try to run the marathon with my own brain
I could feel what is going on,
what is going on you ask?
narcissism at its best
but I too am a narcissist, because today I saw a woman
a lonely one
eyes all dark, a skinny skin and a troubled face
a sadness that I could feel when I entered her home as she was showing me the place of her rent
a clean room
but you could feel the sadness with all the dishes lying around
and all I could think of is having sex with her because my own sex drive has reached his pinnacle of desperation
I sympathize with her echoes and pain with my own pain of not getting it
because for me she might have been an easy target to influence her.
this is the vulnerability that you show another person for them to stick around
but I guess I keep it to myself so that I can write better
Just yesterday I was having a fight with myself whether I should be a writer or not?
because from where I belong my odds are just too many to not make it
but you know it too, the clique line 'when your back is against your wall that is when you make it'
Hahahahah
well let's see
Man and his loneliness in the box of stone
with his screen, with his lying on his bed for hours
the bum and the bums that meet with each other every evening to have their own sense of living
their pians, the drugs and the eyes of a death reaper that has taken their soul
Man and pain
with his own bringing
or putting forward a work of art to justify its presence
Man and pain
I won't complain about having it
it stays and leaves
I search for it sometimes
but that is when I am delusionally alive with moments of peace
even you know that
but you have to carry on even if there is nothing more than the pain of smiles that you carry to make something alive.
Man and pain.