Always have hope.

If you let the world turn one more time
my feet will go wheeling under me
the milestones will crack and turn over
you'll be excited next to me

if you let a hand sweep through
I suppose we'll make due
with the time I waste in haste
in truth, I want to know you

If you let the moon come up
and the light is pale
the skin I seek with a mind in bright
soft luna and temperate cover'd night

If you freeze the rain to white
with a fire to fight off night
with a warm engulf we share
this is new to you?

What could you want with me?
I guess I'll see, I guess I'll see.

Something is not right.

My last post did not sufficiently capture what I've been thinking this past weeks. I think it is coming to a head tonight because I am listening to a song that the Grant sisters put on my birthday mix. The song is doing something to me needed to be done.

The truth is I don't understand the world. I don't understand death, entropy or hate. To day was spent mostly inside trying to write up some cohesive, comprehensible personal statement for medical school. Look past all my hate, blemishes and my death to what I can be. That, I think, I should repeat, slowly and clearly, to myself.

This song is changing my brain. It is churning up the still light mud that is bound to cloud the water upon disturbance. I don't care if I make sense anymore. I'm sick of pretending that I have to make sense cause everyone thinks everything should make sense, when nothing makes sense.

I'm sick of mass killings, present and past. Entire legions of soldiers dying, entire groups of people starving, migrations of people that end in doom. I sick of classes and corruption and the splitting angry bastards. They should all blow blood vessels.

"The out-of-jointness of the universe."

The more I am around the homeless and addicted, the more I watch people suffer, the more I don't understand.

And am I going to die at the hands of an oppressor or someone who is invested in the status quo. I think so.

Cause the universe just does not make sense, and I've never felt like my spirit belongs. I realized this very young and I would discuss it in my youth with friends when our minds were fresh as beach sand, ripe to have a sand-piper of ponderance leave tracks. But that has been washed by the tides of time.

What hope can I find. In the moment? I don't want to regret those days or waste my time. I have precious little time here, and though I feel like I don't belong, I know only this. I know only unimaginable suffering as they are conveyed by words and images.

One thing is sure: I'm not losing this state of mind. I thought I had, but I'm sure it is back. I'm glad, cause I can realize how lucky I am.

Something is just not right

"I don't want to live here anymore."

"Oh, you regret the move you made?"

"No, I don't want to live here, now, anymore."

"What other choise do you have?"

"I've been reading about Themepolae."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Defeat of the Spartan legions at Thermopylae. They were out numbered 10 to 1 by the invading Persian army."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"The odds seem so much better. Their enemies had eyes. You could look into there eyes."

"Again, what are you talking about?"

"They fought to the last man. That was their law. They use to say learning comes only through suffering. I'm starting to thing I've stopped learning."

"Maybe you should start taking the whole pill instead of half. Think that would help?"

"I think my enemy needs a face. I would happily follow the law to the last."