Warm Bodies

Sometimes in a meaningless life

Meaningless contact is enough

Just another warm body

Brings me back to reality

Reminds me I'm alive

Makes me happy if only for a moment

Sometimes in a meaningless life

I can be happy

With no meaningful reason

Other than your warm body against mine

And no promise of it ever happening again

Prometheus or "My Inner Light"

        My old friend, I thank you for your letter, but  I write speeches for many to hear and take my views from, not correspondence for but one person to view me as they wish to. So I respond to you with this one and hope you will listen to what I say rather than proselytize at me about what I willfully abandoned.
        You are right about me, I do believe that words are for expressing something older than themselves, something dark and primal. My use of words to express these ancient things called emotions is art, not an expression of any personal struggle and certainly not a god damn "cry for help." And this art is not a voice "for the dark," it is my voice representing the dark. Helping others understand and deal with the darkness that is part of life now and helping them more than any prophet of things to come ever could.
        And I do believe in a "let there be light," but not the one of your precious YHWH. Those words were spoken in myth by the poster child of human ingenuity, Prometheus of Greek myth. Light was not a gift from a benevolent creator, it was stolen from a harsh and uncaring universe. We created our own light long ago when we first became bright enough to rub two sticks together. We let there be light and saw that it was good, and more importantly that it was ours.
        And so I won't join your crusade for a light I no longer believe in. I respect your beliefs, as everyone needs something to lean on, but I do not want or need your particular crutch. I did at one point but now I have a new and better thing to believe in but that is myself and my own inner light. I, like everyone else on this planet, am my own god and the master of my own fate. So I have to believe that I have the forethought and ingenuity of Prometheus to carry me through, and refuse to rely on a cosmic safety net.
        Frankly, I am angry that you act as if you know me better than I know myself, that you view my life as unsatisfactory because I am not the same as you, and that you presume I need help because my art does not reflect your ideals. Yes, life is a pile of shit. It's painful, it's dark, and it's uncaring about you or me or anyone else. But god damn it I love it anyway, and I ain't quite done with it yet.
Soli Ego Gloria,
-VNV

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I suppose Jesus is a Fuckboy by my friend Will could be considered related reading to this. I'm not in the habit of promoting others but check him out, his writing's way better than mine.

Mouthpiece

When I write
I am my voice
I put emotion to
Words

The emotion is
Mine
The voice is
Mine
But the words are
Yours

My thoughts on
Your wonder in
My eyes on
My page with
My? words

But they have to be yours
They are to you
They are about you
They are made of you
They couldn't exist without
You

I am a voice
Yours

But have no one to be

Mine


My? voice


I cant speak

Life (This I Believe)

       This. This is worthless. This is pointless. This is useless. This is terrifying. This is terrible. This is complete and utter bullshit. This is never ever ever ever going to change. This I believe.

      There's more truisms about it than you can say in it. Life's not fair, shit happens, life's what you make it, everything happens for a reason, c'est la vie, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. We have so many sayings about how life is so difficult to deal with but as soon as someone decides they're done with it we tell them the exact opposite just so they won't quit. Why the hell do we believe it matters to us?     Why the hell do we believe we have any say whatsoever in anyone's lives but our own. This I believe, everyone's right to live entails a right to die.

      That's what makes it so terrible. But it's a choice, like anything else. It's all about choices, every moment of every day of every life is a choice. The choice to keep living, or die trying. The choice to say something or stay silent. The choice to care about others or to selfishly look out only for yourself. The choice to stand up take ownership and live the life no one else can or to be passive and let your life just waste itself. This I believe, life is a series of choices and every single one is important. And because of that people overthink everything, so intent on making the "right choice." But here's the thing, no one makes the right choices; because this I believe, there are no right choices.

      That's what makes it so terrifying. No do overs, no mulligans, no repeats, no retries. One and done. Everything you do changes your life permanently. Even if people don't remember what you did, what you said, who you stood by. They'll remember how it made them feel. Loved, appreciated, accepted. Or despised, disdained, discarded. They'll remember, but life will not. This I believe, nothing lasts forever. In fact, nothing lasts at all.

      That's what makes it so useless, pointless, worthless. Everything-less. Meaningless. Or is it? So what if nothing lasts? So what if there are no right choices? So what if people can just quit? So what if life exists? It does, people don't, choices are made anyway, and memories last, at least to us. People may not matter to life, but life matters to people. Because if it doesn't what does? This I believe. This is all we've got. This is something that matters.