They Bleed for Thoughts

Can you see the heavy weight in my eyes, gravity like planets that keep moons in orbit. Sorrow for the sadness that hangs like pendulums from the corners of my worn cheeks. People are dying for causes, for freedoms, for ideals, because they're fed up with the way things are so they change them with their words, with their fists, with the bricks from their homes, and the flames from their own hearths. They bleed for thoughts, for the way things ought to be and amidst the greatest acts of violent atrocity the greatest acts of brotherhood and of humanity and of love are commited as well. We can see that established order is an illusion, a paradox, a false security put in place by people in power with money and the means to murder and scare. To see people re-wire there brains and their fists to change their reality is the most beautiful thing this world could ever witness, more beautiful than the sun, than the sea, than the moon, than a woman, than all of those things grouped into one thing more beautiful than beauty herself. I shed tears and tear my heart from my chest. I want to rest in the excitement and thrill that gives the masses the power to chill me to my core and uphold an idea that fundamentally alters how human beings live on this planet...

Grow up

We've grown up. I see my friends doing grown up things like getting insurance for their extra vehilce but lying about the mileage to get lower rates. I get phone calls about verification on my period 4 revenue  forecasts. I say things like drive in percentages and transient numbers and occupancy rates.
John fields a call from his girlfriend and similtaneously on his multitasking smartphone calculates his insurance payment per month. We've become like TV, with commercial breaks, always on the clock even when were off. An now a word from my sponser. The coversation continues and we talk about things like yields and suit sizes, we talk about profit and highrises, synthesizers, eyes in eye liner, and our dreams. Future plans and angles are examined, the truth is told about lies and lies are told about truth. I feel old at 24. Knowing however that 80 is the average life span of a caucasion male living in the USA. So I'm a little over a quarter of the way thru the whole thing. I zoom out on my microscope and feel smaller and intimidated. Force focusing my lens I regain some sense of the way the world revolves around me like it did before I thought about my chronological age compared to average life span of a caucasion male living in the USA. A time line stretches out before me like a text book or a National Geographic fold out spread page special. And I realize again that I'm so fully aware of myself and that I've lost my marbles and my molars.