Slow Days are Good Days
“Oh, how it feels to feel. How truly lucky I am to just feel; to feel it all. To feel pain, to feel sadness, to feel joy, to feel anger. For a second there, I forgot how fortunate I really am. Forgot about the energy in my bloodstream, that violent, unrestricted energy that moves me. Moves me to scream and dance and sing, to fight and fornicate, to kiss and make up. That feverish, relentless energy that takes me to where I wanna go. I say, “There.” and I’m there. You say, “Where?” and we’re halfway around the world. And to think, the beauty of my body is only half that of my brain. How flawlessly we fit together, awfully flawless. I see things in colour, I smell flowers in the springtime. I hear babies cry and airplanes fly, and lectures from those who raised me. I decide things and create things and take one thing and turn it into some other thing. I panic about my future, I regret things I’ve done in the past; I love and I lust and I hope and pray that I don’t ever fail to remember how great it feels to just feel.” - John O’Callaghan
Because everyone deserves a pot-smoking Jimi Hendrix on their blog.
I have seen society.
The blackest void, so sickening
you’d gouge your eyes just not to see
what’s become of you, or me.
My heart is torn, my throat is shredded.
Count the women that I’ve bedded,
for what’s the point in being wedded?
For paper love is soon regretted.
We were meant to be alive.
Not enslaved in fabrications of the contrived
reality before us, denied
of the very essence of oneness in this life
with the lives of everything and everyone
we see and feel to preserve this unnecessary strife.