“The emotion is alike the beast. Too wild to be free at the ultimate state, and too large to be truly caged. We, as humans, cage animals, for we cage emotions. We, as humans, believe ourselves to be beyond emotions. We, as humans, both cage ourselves, and the emotions we will enclose in our heart. The emotion is alike the beast. When free, it will roam, and we then have allowed it to escape us. We are without humanity through this action. The emotion should, in fact, be kept on a leash. With only enough freedom for movement, and enough control of the master to pull it backwards. The leash, however, is never unbreakable. For the emotion may be the beast with wings, or the beast with strong legs. Allow it to be truly free, and it will escape into total darkness. The master will search, being forced to search a void.”
“It is not enough that ‘plainness’ makes the face beam with natural radiance, but to a man and his not liking to place a mask over his features when at home, he will see that stark plainness; before the mirror, he will see it. Whereas, a woman will apply the cosmetic, and she will say that the natural beauty lies in the mask not put on the features of her; and I will say that this encourages ugliness from the woman; and why is this, other than knowing what ‘plainness’ represents? The ‘plainness’ of guilt, when should a woman commit to the same enactments of a man, make such ‘plainness’ honest and direct. The mirror now sees no likeness of careful image, for a woman, as such guilt hails from the sameness in action from the woman envious of a man’s opportunity. It is only an additional corruption. An added bonus to the stockpile of bones.
Why is this? It is because that same repeated word called ‘plainness’ is why a man was never known to apply the cosmetic. It is why a man, never known to apply the cosmetic, is most truthful to himself without the mask. It is how guilt and shame is felt, by seeing enactments too barbaric and sinister to imply any gentleness that a woman would naturally emit.
For a man craves achievement and receives infinite opportunity for only one reason. That reason is compensation. A man needs no reminder of his guilt. A man needs no movement for that remembrance. It is objectively a cruel gesture to rub salt in the wound, the eternal wound, of a man’s instinct in guilt. His guilt is known, by that plainness, when revealed in the mirror. By no cosmetic, he sees it, and he turns away. By all plainness, and naturalism, he sees it, and sees stark hideousness. Are we taking a liking to choice, to Individualism, to subjectivity? Then, only comprehend that action is what purifies or corrupts the individual soul, after such a ‘logical’ mind of a man makes him the most guilty.”
“Love is automatic and gifted, whereas respect is earned and disposable. The respected are not so easily loved. To desire respect is not so much to desire a risk of the life, the unguarded life, and the unguarded heart. We, as stubborn humans, who desire respect, will guard all our weaknesses. Through respect, we place upon our faces a mask, where we believe nothing can penetrate it. It is just so, from the man to the woman, and her body is too much the beauty to penetrate in the figurative sense, that the strongest man will find his way to her heart. For if it is his heart that controls him, and not his mind, he’ll find himself tangled in her veins. Respect oftentimes is the replacement for love, because with people who desire the former, the latter becomes our weakness, and there is no way we wish to allow our guards to drop. Especially through love, when our shields are willingly dropped. From the knight to his beloved maiden, he’ll submit with knee to the floor, before his most wanted devotion.”
Have thee gone astray? From the wicked heart of mine, Into the comfort of decay And into the solace of a new moon, Soon when your weary mind Sees the heat in this garden’s bloom?
I see with steps that are taken, Above a grave that reeks, In the scent of an ocean, The magnificence of your fall. And soon to lift you up, From this naked shell.
You are beautiful and exquisite, Even in your pain. You have the pain of a wounded bird, And the eyes that show disdain. Mere petals without being a bud, Without any new beginning.
When you’ll see me and my strength, There will be no doubt. There will be no need to shout, “I have not seen you in happiness, So how have you found strength?” I do not feed, my love.
I have starved myself of happiness, So that I may see thy misery. I have created torture from another flower Where each petal holds poison, And the nectar is just as toxic, And it is how I comprehend pain’s taste.
I will take it away from you, In this strength, in this love. You are among the few, Among the brave, You have seen me among the rotten, And you will soon see me as unforgotten.
