Why Go On — Hug Hurt — Earn Power

Greg Prince
4 min readNov 16, 2018

Imagine living without, in a hole, then finding peace and fighting to succeed.

Worm Vermiculture Hummus Ear from Pixabay

I am a worm.

Tear out my eyes, rip out my soul, stomp on my spirit. I am lower than scum. There is no life for me and yet I live.

Where is my purpose?

Squirming, crawling, occupying, following consumes all moments of consciousness. I live to eat and be amused by all that is mundane and lacking value.

I am less than a worm.

Sliding along the path of greatest adversity gives me pleasure.

I would never admit this. I cling to it.

It’s a drug, a high to fight and struggle over and over again. Then, I climb out of depravity and failure to barely get by.

I’m aware of the paths that lead to most ideas of success but they do not satisfy me.

Of a small mind and limited view is my simple jellied mind.

Input cascades over me like waterfalls of stinging hail. There is no end to it. Dopamine fills my head with bursts of pleasure in the torrent of flashing quick bits. Nothing satisfies.

Triggers, buttons, on and off, checked and indicated but none satisfy. Where does this blinding intelligence lead me? It is not my own, does not know my meaning, nor is it for my best but to lead in its own direction.

Where is it taking me?

I am an invertebrate sheep charged and ready for more.

Sleep evades my eyes. Remove them for I no longer need them to see. I am guided. Who will un-guide me?

My sisters and brothers who are deaf and blind hold distinct advantages over me. They are thought for. There is a blessing in having blindness and being deaf beyond imagination in this downpour of input flooding our id.

Where is my cause? Do I live to be told to live? Do I live to be told to believe? Do I live? Deep rest is becoming a fantasy.

Time evades me. I’m lost in screams of begging colors that wash me in their false, rigid truths soon dismissed and replaced by the new truths. The screens are my friend and the enemy that seduce and step on my…

Greg Prince

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.