Raw Milk Tears
Emoting emotion isn’t feeling it? How low is your low - how high your high?
I got your bible and your gun
And you love to party and have fun
I’m thinking of love. I’m remembering passion. I’m experiencing spiritual fireworks. Explosions. I’m floating. It’s a gift to feel this way. I’m praying my worst enemy, although I hate him, should feel this. I’m praying my family feels this.
I’m daydreaming of a long gone lover while sitting at the gates of an undisclosed farm on the East Coast. Here, I pick up raw milk, raw cheese, fresh eggs. Looking in my passenger seat and Maria is looking at me. My thoughts of yesterday evaporate. Everything before that glance, destroyed by Now.
Athletic legs, sun darkened skin, deep blue eyes, not as blue as mine but apparently “‘not everything is a competition”. I’m thinking she’s only with me because she says I look, and act, like a young Jim Morrison. He died at 27. My goal is 33. Holy #s only.
I’m filled with lust looking at her. Love? Did God give me the gift of knowing the difference?
“Do you feel compassion?”
Her question surprises me. The near future, fresh farm products anticipation, is too bright to start injecting reality.
“Shhh baby. It’s a good day.”
“Come on, stop answering like a politician. Do you experience feeling, emotion?”
Unfortunate timing. I was asked this on Monday night as well, by someone else. I mulled it over during past few nights Moment Of Introspection: that 30minute window when electronics are out of the room and it’s you, your thoughts, alone in pure intimacy. I mulled it over.
“It’s crazy to get asked this. Don’t you think I’m too volatile. Too high of highs, too low of lows? I’m not capable of feeling anything small. It has to be heart moving, grandiose. The bell curve of emotions misses me until the uppermost, lowermost standard deviation!”
She thinks, smirks, calculates, computes: “I think those reactions are more of a way to distract yourself from feeling. Like throwing a jacket on to not feel the cold. Do you ever really experience your emotion?”
“Yes lova”
“Okay, what’s one thing you’re empathic about?”
I’m thinking young man with weak spirits. I’m thinking young man who have been dulled to nothing.
I’m thinking young man with no purpose, nothing to die for, bleed for.
I’m thinking young woman turned to whores, tricked to believing this is freedom.
I’m thinking young woman turned to corporate slaves, tricked to believing this is independent.
I’m thinking of humans believing anything Tv tells them.
I’m thinking of The Cult of Science.
I’m thinking of people trusting food, trusting the word of the United States Council.
I’m thinking young men with no Faith.
I’m thinking of those trapped in scarcity mindsets.
I’m thinking of those born into, experiencing divorce.
I’m thinking of the heartbroken.
My insides feel hot.
An unusual sensation boils.
My head pounds.
I start crying.
She kisses my cheek.
“Baby are you okay! You know how many souls you touch a day? Do you want head? Let’s play some of The Cure. I know you don’t like their 90’s stuff. But you did mentioned giving the homeless some raw milk earlier. Maybe this will cheer you up!”
“Fuck them. Let’s throw eggs at them instead.”
Much love,
Winston
Souled idea
Thief In The Night
Generational Swashbuckler
Did you lift today? Did you kiss today? Did you feel pain today? How many souls do you touch a day…
