"What if this is as good as it gets?!?"

They are getting worse. Sometimes I find it hard to push them away like I used to be able to do. They are much more intense. Hotter.....like burning inside my head. With heat comes light, but at what price. The price of illumination and hence the development of my self-actualised ego is that of misery. Total, unadulterated misery, on a scale only comparible of the screaming souls at the Nazi prisoner of war camps. The stench of their decaying flesh sends a whiff of the immortal towards the ever-oppressing thoughts. Thoughts that stagnate, never shifting, not through tide, nor wind. Thoughts that grip to my grey matter like those flowers in spring that stick to your clothes....the one that inspired the creation of velcro. I will look up their name one day...
The thick, slimy residue of the darkest of these thoughts...the thought that deserves a name, and yet, if it had one, may become the greatest of all, and be known throughout the land of my conciousness. This sickly, poisonous gas of vulgarity, this noise polluting, aging, tension enhancing, destroyer of innocence has a grip of me. I told someone about this particular one the other day....I knew I shouldn't, but then I remembered, "Should's, ought's, must's.... assess your guilt. Does it stem from your own moral disappointment or the disappointment of others. Not managing to reach their high, self imposed standards on which we all should live. If they didn't push me in the first place, I wouldn't be here now, would I? I wouldn't be ranting on to strangers about potentially omnipotent, invasive thoughts that set about with the intention of ruining my almost calibrated conscience, confiscating what purity I may have left in this morally corrupt, ethically crumbling existence we call 'living'. If they planted the seeds of my own creation then I am the Dutch Elm. Standing tall and strong, yet inside dying of a silent disease.

It's that anger that burns...the hot, yellow fire that is fuelled by the thought. The thought comes. The longer its around the more it multiples, and corrupts the other thoughts around it, my senses become consumed with it, I can taste it, and feel it, it hits my nervous system, I reel back with goose pimples, and then I hate.....and I hate......and I hate, until I start to shake, my hands gently shivering, my stomach tight like I've swallowed a live fish, churning and gurgling, occasional pain, then a twinge of IBS. I start to fantasise about the pain, seeking revenge, over and over and over again....creating scenario's, potential situations, occasion's to allow the revenge to occur, to relieve this nagging pain inside. I can no longer drown my butterflies, so tonight I must allow the warm, freshly scented memories of holidays in Italy, trips to the beach, treehouses as a kid, I let the thoughts of sunny days playing out with friend, reflecting on the dreams I had at 16 of what I wanted to be, and compare that with who I am now. I let these thoughts in....these are good thoughts, these are fucking brilliant thoughts. These are the kind of thoughts I would need to stay sane if imprisoned like Terry Waite. Blindfolded, and held hostage, those thoughts would be handy. But what if the other thought was to take over...fuck!!" No where to go, just you and your thoughts, nothing to see, nothing to hear for the most part, and fuck all to smell or taste. Then comes the thought, nowhere to run, what do you do?? What can it do?
The scent of flowers radiating from these thoughts boosts your 'hope', buys you time, makes you relish, have passion, feel good, truly feel good. If I could bottle that feeling then I would be a billionaire.

'What if this is as good as it gets?!" well, Jack, what if it is? What then? Do we go on, happy with this knowledge, perhaps consume heavy amounts of alcohol to dull the senses, anaesthetise the memory banks, inject tiny portions of well being and laughter, interspersed with twanges of divinity, yes lets be honest. Even the tiniest of insects, the woodlice for example. His tiny world, insignificant to us, yet to him, the most important thing in this world....bar none! Is it any different with us, I mean is it? Who gives us the fucking right to stomp around this world trying to manipulate and control every habitat, and every food chain. We are the ones giving with one hand and taking with the other. Would there be a need for conservation had we not caused a fuck up in Mother natures grand scheme in the first place?
I believe in ying and yang, good versus evil, positives versus negatives, and balance and equilibrium. A homeostatic world of perfect balance. No peace without war, and no calm without a storm. Gaia Principles.
The thoughts they balance the mind. They should, but at present they don't balance. They balance much more than they did....
Meet EyeCeyE the scapegoat for them, punchbag for others, fucking arsehole to some, good friend to a few, and daddy to the most important!!
Is that balance, ????? Maybe...Definitely Maybe!