• moldypillow

a soulful memorandum for the man on top of the cake

Updated: May 27, 2020


i asked my shadow where it was heading. it told me toward the sun. i shrugged my shoulders and followed much like a duckling searching for direction.

comfort against surfaces is a commonality we have with one another. it's rather interesting. this notion of space. or should i narrow it down to an intangible measurement that no one person truly understands. all so relative. a person’s didactic approach to space is more often criticized than reciprocated. ignorance is the main ingredient in this cocktail. sadly, it is also the toxin that will paralyze you for life. lately, people of this sort have been crowding my once open field. important to note that it is not the majority rather a minority. they come slightly limping at first. why? well, because they have been accustomed to beating themselves into some god awful version of societal 'perfect' we all know is a cover. as the night progresses, they slowly disable; body parts lose function. arrogance desecrates even the most intelligent human beings for it is arrogance that causes such personal destruction.

i lit a few candles this evening. expected a pair of shadows to connect, but as we know... expectations usually always lead to disappointments. it can be unsettling when you stretch your neck out for people. knots build. shoulders tender. and when you really need company (which is a rare phenomenon in itself-- reaching out to people because you require a human-to-human connection due to the recent emotionally ruined circumstances) you're forced in coiling that limp neck much like a weathered garden hose. alone. back pressed on a computer chair. staring at the wall. contemplating why you continue to place yourself in this situation. go back into the shell. everything was quiet in there. as a matter of fact, i think i will in due time.

it is here that i look to my own shadow. we are able to learn from past endeavors and use the light for growth. those around me lack the union to their respective shadow. they are so consumed with their personal routine that the shadow is merely another component of the diegetic background-- space is then condensed into one large sum rather than vital necessities. necessities that have the potential to highlight the form of our dear and beloved shadow. said complexities filter throughout my thought process daily.

shadow and i tend to feel on the outskirts of society.

a liquidation of nerves becomes a familiar sensation. patience is a virtue only few can reconcile. we bartered words until there were none left. reasoning with a surface that fails to illustrate your reflection is a defeating gesture in itself. people are synonymous to said surfaces. due to countless years of selfishness, perplex insecurities, and self-induced trauma, their surfaces then become soiled. they are unable to see out and they are also removed from any sort of reflective natures. self-inflicted. i struggle to hold some forgiveness in my heart.

many who have actively taken the steps toward higher levels of consciousness know how simple this switch is. the most rudimentary steps require very little effort. in any case, the switch needs to occur prior to the graduation into more sophisticated thought processes.

the beauty of connections is the company of other entities who share similar perspectives. they hold themselves accountable for everything. they value themselves and the world around them equally. furthermore, the greatness of this particular companionship is that you get to experience it in pairs. i personally, find this fascinating. fascinating, yet saddening. few individuals are able to ration this construct. it is a quiet place here. one is led toward their own shadow for support.

if the host is disconnected (for whatever the reason may be), their shadow is sure to support the journey taken to substantiate the host’s existence. light also affects this mutual exchange. it's really a domino bound occurrence.

1. work to achieve light.

2. feel the warmth.

3. reciprocate to those around you.

and alas the shadow appears. an inverted version of yourself. physical features removed, because they are not necessary. the overall shape and how it folds on surfaces is what requires most attention. anyhow… let’s move on shall we?

signs surround my frame. every second is marked by an encounter reminiscent of another. my dreams have even joined this spiritual circus. i find myself waking in the middle of the night just to watch the ink spin out from a depleting plastic cylinder. candlelight causes penmanship to resemble a different language. hieroglyphics penetrate the page. at first, it is rather amusing—who else in your inner circle can do this? pending an answer, you hear a cricket symphony. then a gentle pat worth private affirmation occupies your left shoulder. you did this all on your own—that is, develop a language no one can crack. it is then that your gaze stretches outward. eyelids close to shadows on the walls. the realization is apparent; you are not alone. those who understand cannot be seen by others. it's a catch 22 if you ask me.

i drove down the 405 at 3am this morning. needed to get out of my head. found myself in a compromising situation. there was an accident unbeknownst to us. by us, i collectively rally my fellow drivers bustling against freshly mowed pavement. we sat there facing a sea of red break lights. darkness sat still at 5am and made it known to us that he did not want any company.

my mind channeled from topic to daydream as usual. surprise. surprise. "glass animals" vibrated every inch of bass in my automobile which inherently rattled my tender neck reminding me that i am getting older after all. older or too considerate to everyone around me :: insert garden hose metaphor here:: a sudden explosion then erupted in the carpool lane and caused those in front of me to immediately veer right. fiery metal sheets flew across the freeway. this was real. i questioned why i was there to witness such a devastating scene. the answer roams with these signs.

properties. a serious blockage develops between a beating heart and a working mind upon relating to those around you. robotic are your habits. there exists a plethora of disconnected wires, all different colors with electrical currents visibly distant.

i stand on the opposing side of a river. properties such as this canoe i once had are no longer here. who needs one anyway? the items around become dead matter once you find their purpose. a mind is relatively omniscient based on experiences. solitude at its finest. trees whisper to one another and you curl into a teetering ball on that porch. you look at your fingers. cuts. splinters and wounds remind you of those disconnections experienced in the last 48 hours. sauntering iron makes its way onto your to-do list.

your shadow peaks between cracks in the pavement. we have each other it tells me. i smile. we will always have each other, i respond. always.

p.l.h,

a

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