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The Pink Cowboy will not settle for stability at the cost of stagnation. My credo is quite simple...do what you must do for your soul. Do not judge me. I too have my very own freedoms. I quit my job a month ago to look for a better life elsewhere. Texas was my open door. I took it to heart to start anew. My soul needed space, it also needed the longing from afar. It needed to exile itself from the Caribbean conundrum of the past 9 years. Thus spake the Pink Cowboy like an euphoric Nietzschian warrior. I was looking for a higher form of supplication. Tired of praying for the commonplace to occur I decided to fly away and place myself out of the carcass of oblivion. I do not to wish to become an entity that spits solipsisms and lays back satisfied at his eloquence. I am boiling mad and I want you to know it. The cowboy is pink not because he is girly or tender or soft. The cowboy is pink like a medium rare steak is pink and bloody before it becomes welldone. I have constricted my poetic nature in order to not sound deranged, maladjusted or unfit. But indeed, I am burning inside like the proverbial candle lighted at both ends. The sheer panic of being known as a problematic depressed sensitive man sent me down in to a hell pit of conformity and isolation. I am taking off my clothes and burning them. If you are insensitive to my daimon go away, do not talk to me. Do not dare to pull me away from my nature, my gods, my love. Thus spake the Pink Cowboy and it all came to be true.
The Pink Cowboy will not settle for stability at the cost of stagnation. My credo is quite simple...do what you must do for your soul. Do not judge me. I too have my very own freedoms. I quit my job a month ago to look for a better life elsewhere. Texas was my open door. I took it to heart to start anew. My soul needed space, it also needed the longing from afar. It needed to exile itself from the Caribbean conundrum of the past 9 years. Thus spake the Pink Cowboy like an euphoric Nietzschian warrior. I was looking for a higher form of supplication. Tired of praying for the commonplace to occur I decided to fly away and place myself out of the carcass of oblivion. I do not to wish to become an entity that spits solipsisms and lays back satisfied at his eloquence. I am boiling mad and I want you to know it. The cowboy is pink not because he is girly or tender or soft. The cowboy is pink like a medium rare steak is pink and bloody before it becomes welldone. I have constricted my poetic nature in order to not sound deranged, maladjusted or unfit. But indeed, I am burning inside like the proverbial candle lighted at both ends. The sheer panic of being known as a problematic depressed sensitive man sent me down in to a hell pit of conformity and isolation. I am taking off my clothes and burning them. If you are insensitive to my daimon go away, do not talk to me. Do not dare to pull me away from my nature, my gods, my love. Thus spake the Pink Cowboy and it all came to be true.
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1 comment:
Many times we poetic-type people shut ourselves up and away from the sometimes harsh world of everyday reality. It's good to see that you have decided to take the risk to share your thoughts and receive the affection and support that you so deserve. I enjoy reading your open-heart through the Pink Cowboy's blog.
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