This is a piece that I started while I was in a mental institution for suicidal ideations and auditory hallucinations. The piece is extremely self reflective, and I hope it shows, even though I tried to mask some of that in an ambiguous nature. The piece features repetition that mirrors Kendrick Lamar’s “These Walls,” although it is of a different nature. The piece is intended to be spoken or read, so feel free to do either.
If These Walls Could Talk If These Walls Could Talk Maybe, just maybe they’d be a little less pale Maybe they’d be more vibrant in their expression, a little more humanistic. If these walls could talk They’d talk my ear off About past people who never made it If these walls could talk They’d talk my ear off About past people who barely scraped by. And are now living vicariously through those who didn’t make it. Those people might as well not make it if they don’t have us, they tell me. If these walls could talk They’d say how it was a shame that I don’t live vicariously through those that didn’t make it. That It’s a shame that I don’t live vicariously through the aforementioned “them.” They’d say how it was a shame that i don’t live vicariously through those that didn’t make it who live vicariously through those that didn’t make it. If these walls could talk They’d tell me all sorts of crazy shit to keep my mind from the task at hand If these walls could talk Maybe it would be easier if they were educated. If these walls could talk Maybe they’d see things through thick wavy coke bottle glasses. If these walls could talk They’d see the lack of need for them to talk. But since these walls do talk I shouldn’t listen to them. -Luke Smith
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I fear no longer the pain, the pain I for so long seeked to numb. For in pain there is always the hope of healing and in healing there is always lessons to be learned. Lessons that make the pain less brutal, less sharp than any morphine could. No in the most odd and peculiar chain of events I have come to fear the very thing I once sought as my saving grace as heaven and hell did exchange place. No, now I but fear the numbness and the false pleasures it did give, the poisoned oasis in which I no longer wish to swim. I fear the numbness, the numbness and not the pain it once hid. For I fear no longer life's pain, but that I might seek to truly hide from the lessons that it gives and the healing in which I might come to live. I fear the numb nothing of those in waking death. I fear the numb nothing that one can but find in sinister bliss, in void, in wretched abyss.
-Thane Hounchell |
AuthorThane Hounchell: Offensive around children, scared of cats. Archives
March 2018
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