Red and Grey

There's always so much to say, but so many things break. Words make no sense or my mouth doesn't work. Sometimes I forget and sometimes I remember. Sometimes I'm numb and sometimes I hurt. There's never any in between - I feel it all or nothing at all. I'm either bright red, bleeding into my mind, or I'm the floating grey of passing clouds - a subtle storm in hiding. Nobody sees the grey, but they think they see the red. But what I show is purple. I show the tidied version of my inner storm, of the bleeding red. Subdued. Like I learned. But the red is hard to subdue. Sometimes I break and it seeps through. People see glimpses of my red, in my eyes, or mouth, or the way my hands move. But I catch it. I shoot it down, a bleeding bird. Because red belongs to itself. I'm a stop sign, a sunset, a siren, I'm the spark. I light the way, or I cloud the path. People need me or loath me. I'm wanted or hated. I'm alive or dead. What will I be next?

Fever

All along it was there

I had the fever

All along you were here

I breathed my first prayer

The water drifted across my skin

While you held me close

So strong, now you know

My mind can’t think to begin

Not sure what is real

Not sure if I’ll heal

Your hazel eyes, in the light, can only see

From deep within the death

But then you see me

And in the night’s breath

You remind me of forever

Blood and tears flood the floor

How do I do this?

Rationality hisses

My primitive mind roars

We lost our first

A misery that lingers

But you recognize my glimmer

Even at my decaying worst

We’ll push past this chaos

And into our oasis

Your hazel eyes, in the light, can only see

From deep within the death

But then you see me

And in the night’s breath

You remind me of forever

Our bodies intertwined in the thin sheets

You keep your eyes on me

Locked in your grasp

I know this cannot last

Dying is just a cyclical end

It was time to transcend

I promise to never forget

All the fleeting dread

The stained sheets will fade

As did the existence we made

Others

You never know what you have until it's gone. I used to live by this, trying to appreciate everything that came into my life. But, I've realized that people will not reciprocate this. Recently, I read a book on Existentialism. It spoke of Sartre's view on others. How everyone is an "other," they are people which you cannot purely know, as you cannot view their inner thoughts. Essentially, others serve the purpose similar to everyday objects, as all we need to do is react. We walk around a tree the way we walk around a conversation. This made me think of how easy it is to objectify others, to use them for gain. We use people, guided by our reactions. And I think once we realize that people are metaphysically the same as objects to us, it is harder to appreciate them. People become less complex, because we no longer see them as minded-people, but simply a piece in our own minds. (This may seem degrading, but keep reading). If every other person in the world is an other, what makes the people special to us, more important than strangers? They are still objects, right? But familiarity changes everything. And the more you become familiar with something you start take it for granted. Interestingly, when something good touches our lives once, we remember it clearly. But when something good continues to touch our lives, well, it blurs together and we tend to look at the negative. We forget the good. And maybe we forget the good, when we objectify them, because as Sartre says, we cannot prove their are minded creatures. But the people close to us, they are not objects, even though I can't prove their minds. They may bring negatives, but we must remember to appreciate their beauty. There will always be weeds in a garden of flowers. In order to appreciate a relationship, we must neglect the natural instinct to objectify.