Ranting Toward the Reason

At it's worse...

Writing rips out every ounce of your soul only to sell you the lie that you can even really realize in words one percent of the powerfully potent perspective that you have prepared within yourself. Yet our pursuit to produce such is priceless

At it's worse...

Writing sends searing into the mind every mistake, mishap, and misfortune of all the men or women to again and again be read and spread by histories grotesquely disgusting gossip showing no mercy and making no expectation. But oh how we embrace this

This monstrosity which constantly put us to the test

often turning for the worse and rarely raining at it's best

Is it worth the stress?

For at it's best ...

Writing will slip trip and fall flat on it's face only by mistake to land on the most magnetically majestic morsel of meaning and magic life has to offer opening up the doors to explore that which have never before been breached or broken that once spoken simultaneously will have awoken in that wake of great understanding until that same substance starting handing a whole house full of bullshit illusion and headaches heeding no conclusion which confuses and loses that magic leading to the meaning it once gave into what it takes, turning you into a nudest of thoughts naked from just getting a damn break. Yet in it's allure almost all we will forsake. Simply for the sake of... sheer writing

But why?

Why do we supply a lie with our emotional highs

If writing can't even hold our highs without dropping them

Which end ups stop em

From ever being captured with the same type of rapture

Why then should we write

Damn it what are we after!

Well you see I can't speak for anyone but myself

I'll tell you why I do it, don't know about anyone else

My answer...

Is that I am after answers and thus on quest to find the right questions

that can carry me to the place of paradise which though in theory is nice needs an honest insight to invest in it's return and reward and it is precisely why I write so that I'll learn to hop aboard it's paper ship which with my pen I grip that ship that is set to sail toward a sea where my soul resides where in soul search through the wave of many words I hope to find a finished unblemished and undiminished light which will invite an infinity of serenity of self-forgetfullness...

which is why I write