greatness

the mediocre world cannot handle greatness, greatness from a vulnerable individual especially 

they must insert themselves into it, they must be a vampiric leech, a moth to linen and suck all soul out of it until they hate it, not seeing that they hate themselves, they hate the mediocracy they put into it when they took it as their own, devoid of its original purpose and meaning and only theirs, and then they despise it

the world cannot handle a brilliant woman.

the world can just handle a man, their hands still shake when they hold him in it on their shaky, fickle palms

the world can hardly handle a brilliant man, their hands that he sits on are cold and invasive to his atoms

the world cannot handle a woman, they close their hands on her, they can only see their own fingers when they look, and they hate their own fingers, nevermind that she cant breathe

the world absolutely cannot handle a brilliant woman, they squeeze her in sharp hands until the juices of her sorrow drip down their arms and stop at their elbows and drip to the floor and they are disgusted that beauty could have such a horrific color 

the world is obsessed with beauty, to have it in its hands, it kills for beauty, it yearns for perfection. it holds perfection and beauty in its hand and it cant just stare, it cant just delicately feel, it cant just live with, it has the urge to feel the rush of destroying it

and the selfish quidity of a human brain will send the signal through nerves and bones and muscles to break beauty for all its worth just for the momentary rush of feeling like how we imagine god feels when he kills us, not always by death. or maybe we feel that because god gave it as a gift; the feelings of destring greatness, brilliance, beauty in just the palm and fingers of a human hand. the rush and waves that it sends are what our minds hold above sex and drugs wish they were as good as destruction 

we create to destroy, we programmed ourselves to make picket fences to hold the order to we can feel the rush of getting rid of it in a mess. most of the time, each other. when we kill another countries toys we revel, when we enter schools with the second amendment in our coats we're high, we made our brains seek out the sadistic pleasure of setting up dominoes just to watch them fall, satisfying,

when someone likes it too much, they get ownership of people so they have a real scale to toy with. to destroy lives. there is only so much civility we can pretend to have, but we all come from chaos and we will all return to it

the flower has no need to kill past the carnivorous flower's need for food to survive, the flower is a producer, the flower is graceful and at peace. the flower isn't overcome with selfishness and greed and sadism and destruction in it's brain as it's been fostering and festering in human dna since the aztecs and even before then

but here i stand, and i beg of you, next time you hold beauty in your hand, feel the release and spirit of hedone in you when you ride out the urge to destroy and look at and admire in your mind with soft touch the beauty, greatness, brilliance you hold. promise me you'll preserve beauty the way i promise you this is my love letter to peace, i will destroy no longer for the greed and sadism of watching the tower fall, but for the beauty in the cracks of stained glass.
i swear it,