Hungry Tigers Unleashed...

I submit that it's not what you do, but what you think that counts. Scary prospect I know...considering what we think at times, but it might be a more honest road. A road fraught with fear, pain, animal urges, as well as hope, love, and a need to be loved...what we really are, not what we want to be.


I think that to deny existence of our most inner terrible, demented, fucked-up thoughts is a poison. We poison ourselves everyday. If we can acknowledge to ourselves that these thoughts, no matter how embarrassing they are, we have a real chance of confronting them. A real chance for introspection and maybe a resolve. To finally let go some of these mental tigers, let them run free and take their place in the nature of ourselves. There, they might die, or make new cubs. In any case...an answer.


To know oneself is to acknowledge every dark thought and as well as our shiny-sparkly-bright ones. I say let it begin! Maybe we'll find out we are not the person we thought we were, maybe we'll find out we're exactly the person we thought we were, more surely a little of both...and that's okay. The sooner we get real with ourselves, the sooner we can fix, heal, and embrace within.


I don't know about you, but my tigers are foaming-frenzy-famished-tigers. Only time will tell if I shoot them or let them live..."Born free! As free as the wind blows! As free as the grass grows! Born free to follow your heart!"

Ursa...

It's Fall. The falling. The smell of burning and last breaths. A linger of life before the big quiet. Soon I will turn unto myself. I sleep to dream. I wait.

I'm a Lousy God...

I'm a lousy God. I usually have dreams with people I've never met in real life, but they will re-occur in different dreams I have later. After a while I forget about them. Time goes by. Then I'll be sitting in the car and I'll remember them. What we did and maybe talked about. When things are a memory they seem like they really happened. I mean...that's how we live our lives, going though the now and the memory of the past. What happens when our memories get mixed up from what happened in reality and in our dreams? Are they any less real? What affects us, becomes real. We make it real. In a sense, we create worlds in our reality. I've created people in my dreams. I think about them. Maybe more than people who live in my "real" life. Do they exist? I think they do....at least in some misty swirling way. They have become real to me. I created them. I created them and I rarely think of them. I'm a forgetful shitty God, who doesn't give them hardly anytime to live. I don't listen nor answer a single prayer of theirs. I hope they will forgive me for bringing them to life and only letting them live in the occasional short moments of my dreams...forgive me. I love you.