Day 796: Make Up Artist

Foundation that don’t smear, with stable fingers that write lines that only the eyes can process, and once realized a blush could be in order, that requires no sticking of the lips to say I’m learning something here, I mean you can make s*** up, but you can’t make this shit up, and I’m always up for a good make over, if the making is the re-creating myself to the best possible version of me, by facing the faces I’ve made myself out to be.

The questioning of sense that it makes, only stands for common sense, or else the make up comes from a feeling or validation for what I’ve allowed myself to experience and want others to feel, make sense – that begets the suspense of another when suspended in a mind that only allows me to see pretty picture that creates a blissful feeling within me, that what I just made up is beautiful and useful, but pitiful after realizing, I’ve let myself fall into a pit of emotions in slow motion, when the make up I put on wasn’t pleasing in the eyes of another.

A smothering effect, “I’ve made up my mind” to not see what the mind really is, as that extra additive, that makes my life extra hard and passively accept the blame factor instead of doing something about it, living a ‘pout’ away from giving up, because I’ve let the idea of being spoiled replace planting a seed of change in the fertile soil of my body, that would sprout up into the ultimate tree of life for me to live in/like and existing as the fruit it would bare, uncovering the smothering effect, and dare to say my utmost potential.

As unconventional as it seems we dream of a time where all is one, and equal without taking the time to re-create our dreams to be meaningful, but would just make it up as we go alone in the meantime, thinking that time cures all things, but only store them until we go in and do a spring cleaning, that is the removal of makeup we’ve smeared across every walk of life in clear fashion, that would usher in ‘New life’ in orderly fashion to take a seat Here at the precipice of change, to becoming an Artist in service of Life, as the self we really are.

But by far our self-interest outweighs any self-improvement and proved it to ourselves that we care less about anything below the head, like wow, simply because if we can disregard that in which we use/care less for/know nothing about and want to leave, as the same thing that’s makes it possible for us to breathe/ eat/ experience/ interact with one another and enjoy things, shows that this “Interest” is not our own, I mean come on, how is it possible that we can Long for something, some place we’ve never seen, (Then next life), and not question this Longing for, in HOPES that it’s real WHEN’ we get there, I mean that’s the best makeup job I’ve ever seen, but still pointing out Facts won’t change a thing, if we’re not willing to replace the point of ‘Making’ to Self-Re-creating.

We’re all artist with the sense and ability to create our day, as we do, but is this doing just limited to redo’s before dozing off, waking up and doing it again, it’s a wonder we don’t like talking about this S***, because of statement like; “We don’t like talking about this S***, which closes the door and locks us in a room/ a life full of smelly shit, immune to the fume and claim Amnesty when someone is showing you a way out of it, like Wow, I’m just going to lay right here and keep caking on this Makeup, until we all choke on it and hope someone comes down with a breathing apparatus and sporadically release me from my own self bondage, (Mind you, I am not Partial, and this is NOT about Real Makeup, so don’t go there), but a point of believing we really have the power to make up our minds, instead of standing Equal to and One with it, AND correct the point of thinking #IM.IT#.

Correction to come…


About carltontedford

In Process.
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