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Pretentious moth and imaginary flame

Narrative more than the art of being
An opportunity to rewrite unfinished stories
limp reality of a wimpering act

Courage and love appearing at will
allowing you to twist the history of
your own experience
Out of shape.

To help elevate an accelerating heart
to passionate compulsion
and the scream of endorphins
to an irretrievable, contorted tale of

A pretentious moth to an imaginary flame.
Willfully attracting itself to a known threat
Willfully dying of feigned ignorance
And a deep seated desire of finding,
in the narrative -
Meaning.

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लाल वस्तू

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angry

my grandmother used to spot in us a hereditary anger the chest learning to well up blood learning to leap and breath learning to crawl foreheads burning with heat of little children the attempt of anger to become disgusting raging energy that will occupy every living stream. nobody wants to hold an angry person rage drunk, getting bigger and bigger until other people are invisible like ants and you can dissolve them in your hot blood and things around you break and shatter at this point she would hold. a violent hand shaking her away Ya I remember my grandmother used to spot it in us as children already And hold our hand "until you get over your rage I will not let go of your hand"  hold VERY TIGHTLY "I will not leave your hand until you learn how you should calm down" i would fail despite that gesture  to understand what was happening and i could not receive love at that time because i have so much anger But the act she is doing is still that of HOLDING

unfeeling

i remember the day i realized advertising had poisoned everything that i knew the memetic microplastic of my time and decided to stop feeling emotions to stop being touched from one minute of people meeting at airports the garish climaxes of love and loss and then when my friends left a rube goldberg machine of going away and i decided to stop feeling emotions to stop being touched by departures at the chaotic trampoline made of  weak elastics of relationships and then the day that i realized  what i read in books is lies and decided to stop feeling emotions to stop being touched by characters that haven't existed in entirely made up worlds like a fever nightmare when you wake up with  your stomach pitted like a peach or an avocado and then the day i realized how inexpensive it is to feel and to cry and decided to stop feeling emotions  or getting attached to my own sorrow which spread occupying my whole sky every time i looked up and the day i realized every choice ...