Buddha's Lesson

May. 14th, 2008 at 1:50 AM

Anger, pure and unadulterated rages through my veins; it is the only toxin that can permeate every barrier science has been wise enough to manifest to protect me from its full effects. Crossing my blood brain barrier like a speeding bullet train to Tokyo it hurdles invisible tracks, tangled and twisted, lighting up my cortex in a stunning light parade of electricity. Years of untold drug abuse have taught me well, anything has the power to be abused. That is why Buddha can appear like an enlightened saint to some and nothing more than a smug bastard to me after all this time. Yes, life is suffering. Yes, this is the path to true growth. And yes, you conceited fuck: everything, everything in moderation. So there I am at 1:30 am digging through a meagerly filled gallon zip lock bag of discarded cigarette butts, searching for those few that have a few scant drags left clinging in stale form for me to light up and suck down ash. An addict searching for the luxury of excess in a barren desert of moderation. It has made me sick, weak, and crippled my judgment. This endless need, this want to engage in all things fiercely, with too much passion and leave me aching. That is why codependency offers me such an enticing lure. I prey on those weaker than I, idolizing them to mock heights of perfection and potential. As if trying to save myself over and over I seek out ones who counter every aspect of myself I try to bury in denial. I fixate and tinker, trying to absolve them from the sins I fear I succumb to so easily. I twist their "truths" to reveal their true flaws and uselessly pour myself into them, a seemingly endless resource to motivate them to transcend. Like these wasted butts I draw each one from a plastic vacuum of fear and insecurity hoping that each time I light them up they will offer me a high I have been unable to attain for long on my own: success. But like these butts, they lack the essence of gratification I seek before they burn out against my lips and trembling fingertips. Poor decisions, none of them are ever meant to last and my choking wet hack of a cough is the only thing to drown out the mocking peel of a fattened Buddha's laughter in my ears.

Music:Lithium - Nirvana