America dreamin…

There is a part of me that doesn’t desire anything outside of death..

But then there is the other side of me.. That normal part that my mother created.. You know.. That wants a family.. Prestige.. And love..
That part of me stands over the real me with a whip…

It won’t let me live… Because if I lived– of course it would die…

Which is the real me? I think we both know the answer to that.. If you have to force your will well then you have no true power..

Because I’m in love with death doesn’t mean I desire life any less than the next man… Life is bountiful… But death is so much more.. Life is constant chaos.. Death is momentary chaos followed by peace followed by the choice of the two.. But at least there’s a choice…
Death is freedom… Freedom is truth.. No more lies and non sense.. Just truth…

Why dream when you can simply be….
Why be of an illusion when you can simply be… No thought because you are regardless…

I think therefore you are…

Life forces you to think… Thoughts control constructs… Can’t I be without the repression of thoughts… Or am I here to justify my means.. Here to question simply for the sake of questioning..

For a finite point to evoke an infinite expression.. Provoke endless possibilities with a finite set of boundaries… And all for what?

And who’s dream has this reality become… From where do these thoughts that dominate originate… Must I remain slumbered to dream… American dreamin… Or can I awaken.. Honesty through death…

The death of a dream…