Sunday, November 18, 2012

November 18, 2012; waiting again

I have an interview tomorrow & that's exciting because that lays out a new experience to envelop myself in for the next number of unrecognizable months.
But I'm afraid. Not of a new job, but of waking up in the afternoon instead of the morning & taking seventeen credits at once & not pressing the snooze button for once & getting a cold & not turning the heater on low to save electricity & paying off my car & trying to make everything fair for all the people in my life & to take a damn shower.
I try to take advantage of all the new experiences in front of me, but I find myself falling into habits that I have only been around for a little while.
I wish I could be the person I used to be.
I miss my ambition to live.
I miss smiling in the morning.
I miss checking the mail & reading the paper & enjoying a fresh pot of coffee & saying hello to strangers & taking the time to do my homework correctly & actually listening to someone when they talk to me & being excited for new things instead of just the things that lay far ahead in my future.
I feel very pitiful. It's annoying me.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Friday, October 12, 2012

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Sunday, October 7th, 2012; Barren

There are more places than here
There are more hearts than mine or yours
There are better ways of doing things
There are different ways of suffering
There are deeper shades of grey
There are more amounts of rain

Friday, September 28, 2012

When you're turned away, are caught up, deranged, confused, or simply just observing each molecule with your olive green eyes & I can lightly touch your skin without you realizing
are the moments I love you most.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

September 18th, 2012; melancholy

"If you figure it out, by god tell everyone."

I wish I could figure it out, or I wish someone else would, & then tell me all about it. Sometimes I feel like I'm trapped on the dark side of the moon, alone & freezing due to my own rigid emotions.
My own inner-most personal feelings are hard to express; I can't even figure it out within my own thoughts.
I don't want to push everyone away again but I can already tell that I'm doing that & I don't know why I'm doing it & I don't know if I can stop.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Wednesday, September 12th, 2012; Well

I wish my parents would climb out of bed
but I wish they could still feel rest.
I wish my parents would settle down.
I wish my parents would smile at me
-for me.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Friday, September 7th, 2012; Knitted

For the next minute & a half I will not let my thoughts collapse:
This morning I awoke & my shell had fallen off my back & shattered into a million pieces. I threw all the unmatchable fractions into the street & drove away filled with fear & suffocated by smoke.
My own consciousness taunted me during every moment to come throughout the entirety of the day. My heart spoke in whispers in fear of who might be listening around a corner.
I have drenched myself in the oils dug from within the earth because I thought that it was a good idea.
My veins cry out every day for hydration. My lips stutter from lack of strength.
But when the sun falls behind & the moon finds her vantage point, I stumble upon a new protector, I give him all that I am, I sleep solemnly for less than eight hours, & then I reawaken to fear.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

My hands are itchy
of all of the leftover dust 

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Wednesday, August 8th, 2012; Big as the Earth

When you're afraid of love fleeting, you're afraid of the truth. & if you're scared of the rawest value of life, you're not entirely living. But if you allow your heart to beat honesty your genes will submerge into what is known as fate. Even if that means a happy ending or death. Since I already understand & don't underestimate the big picture, could you tell me the simple truths? Like you're favorite type of ice-cream, or your favorite memory as a child, or your shoe size, or what phase of the moon fits your mood just right or the song that makes you remember seventh grade, or the first time you enjoyed the rain. I would just like to listen to some lovely stories.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Monday, August 6th, 2012; Moments in Splendor

When I'm alone, thoughts come to mind as quickly as bombs were dropped in Europe during World War II. But I have no idea how to represent them, just as they had no moral justification to take away so many stranger's heartbeats.
When I'm with others, words pour from my mouth as swiftly as a car speeding down Highway 95, fleeing justice, in which they deserved. Unlike the consequences one might be granted for doing something either right or wrong, most of the words that I speak receive nothing.
Perhaps I've forgotten how to properly communicate,
or perhaps I never knew at all.

Friday, August 3, 2012

Friday, August 3rd, 2012; Stumbling

I’ll cusp my fingers along the side of your face, underlining the corners of your jaw & stare straight into your maple leaf eyes until you think everything is all right. From my lips I’ll whisper lies into your ears so you can sleep safe tonight.But without the coating of these walls or the lock to concrete safes we keep our hearts in, nothings alright & the calumny we choke down isn't changing that. The blindfolds we put on aren't leading us to transcendence. But I'll kiss you goodnight & curl right up to your side as we sleep beside the darkness, expecting to awake to light.

Monday, June 25, 2012

;What is today?

Every single morning I struggle to get out of bed. I re-set my alarm clock to a time too close to my deadline. Once I get up, I still can't find the focus to simply put my pants on.
When I still lived with my parents, I used to awake two hours early, & have plenty of coffee to actually sustain sanity.
I hate this state of mind in which I live in. Every idea is a fleeting thing; even smiling can't come as honestly as it once could. I have to go find my house keys now.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Thursday, May 31, 2012; Streams of Fresh Air are Hard to Come By

Hauntingly, everything that might catch an extra-terrestrial being's attention shut off. The air grew thin as smoke danced around breathable substances. From outside of the house, people wondered why the residents of the home were not running from the flames. The house looked alive although within a few moments it would soon be decrepit -along with the dwellers within.
I found myself concentrating on a small unnoticeable window towards the lower-right of the house; there shown a small unnoticeable silhouette of a figure, standing still as if they died while in the midst of staring out the window.
I wanted to run towards them-whoever that poor soul might be. In fact I almost did, but the news-reporters & innocent bystanders held me back. I don't remember much after that. My mother told me I had been mentioned in the news (they had assumed I was a close relative of some sort), that I had kicked in screamed, & that they had to take me away from the scene.
It wasn't until later that I would find out, that the person had hung themselves, after burying all the family photos in the backyard, molesting the electrical lines, killing their beloved ones, & setting their house aflame. I don't know why this so much matters to me & I don't know how I had arrived in front of that fiery house on that Sunday evening but celebrating with the words of Kurt Vonnegut: "So it goes."

Monday, May 21, 2012

Monday, May 21, 2012; Must I Express?

The sun that day was bright yet subtle; composed light mocked the vampires through the windows & the cracks beneath the doors. People were running to & fro out of buildings to experience this day that rarely seemed to ever come. Stores were closing due to people calling in sick to work, all of the neighborhoods were dead,  the library was even empty. All fled to the forestry to forget the complexities of life. A domain truth fell out of the sun that day & for once the people were not going to take it for granted.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Sunday, April 22, 2012; Right Turns

All of their words seemed to fade into the background as their symbols shone through each false expression that left their lips. The rain dripped down the window panes & the simple music shown to be more significant than anything my ears have ever been blessed to hear.

Destruction is the only thing I witness in the light of all our eyes,
in the light of the street signs, lamp posts, & the dimmed dining room late at night.

From within my own heart I have found a vibrancy that makes the sun look bleak.

From within my own heart I've let go of the lies that tied down my feet.

This morning wasn't as simple as I believed it would be; in fact, I forget of the event entirely. When I thought back to the previous premise, a bitter aftershock is what stained my thoughts. I contemplated calling out to you but I haven't spoken a word in months. Not even to a stranger have I expressed this raw insight that surrounds each corner of this very room that I am typing this in.

I can't help but wonder, was this a moment of weakness; was it a decision based off the internal demolition that I am starting to tire of?

I cannot answer that now but I cannot turn around.

Every day since this journey re-began, I have asked myself:
"Do I still feel that serenity I felt six days ago?"

& I do still feel that way, I really do. My heart's found contempt but bitterness still surrounds my roots.
Fear still maneuvers my movements but nothing holds me down.

I've been scared of what these people (the good & the bad) will think but if I still feel this way in a week, I suppose they deserve to know that I've accepted Jesus Christ into my heart & that this choice was my own.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Tuesday, April 17, 2012; Walking Back Home (Cont.)

From within my own heart I have let go of the lies that tied down my feet.

This morning wasn't as simple as I believed it would be; in fact, I forget of the event entirely. When I thought back to the previous premise, a bitter aftershock is what stained my thoughts. I contemplated calling out to you but I haven't spoken a word in months. Not even to a stranger have I expressed this raw insight that surrounds each corner of this very room that I am typing this in.

I can't help but wonder, was this a moment of weakness; was it a decision based off the internal demolition that I am starting to tire of?

I cannot answer that now but I cannot turn around.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Monday, April, 16, 2012; Walking Back Home

All of their words seemed to fade into the background as their symbols shone through each false expression that left their lips. The rain dripped down the window panes & the simple music shown to be more significant than anything my ears have ever been blessed to hear.

Destruction is the only thing I witness in the light of all our eyes,
in the light of the street signs, lamp posts, & the dimmed dining room late at night.

From within my own heart I have found a vibrancy that makes the sun look bleak. 

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Thursday, April 11, 2012; Complaints

The ceiling, she croaks
& you, well you whine
The clocks, they tick
& you, well you get ticked off
The sky cries
& you stay inside
The food's hot
& you forget about dinner
The windows, they fog up
& you stop driving
The moon hides
& so do you
The ships sink
& you never go find them
The strings rust every six months
& you replace them
The night calls
& you don't answer
The shoelaces become untied
& you buy new shoes
The rules were broken
& you make new ones
The lies have been revealed
& so you skip town
The market's open
& you always slept in
The hurricane's a-coming
& you don't care
The whole of humanity is callin'
but you can't hear

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Wednesday, April 10, 2012; Mangled

I think I'm burnt out on making out
The universe doesn't exist in someone else's mouth 
& if you were a spaceship the farthest I've gone is the asteroid belt 
I'm burnt out on cigarettes, booze, & charismatic smiles
No matter how bright everyone can show their teeth 
the sun will always win so I'd rather stare at the sky from now on
I've burnt down the shed that carries all my dreams  
& the ashes have flown with the wind to become means to an end
Now, all that's left is charred glass from the window panes

I will build a glass castle with those remains
Let's pray I don't melt that away

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Wednesday, April 3, 2012; Eiffel Tower

I continue to look back towards the past & I don't entirely understand anything. Sometimes I think that there are two identities fighting within me. A chaotic resistant lover & a boring enthusiastic soul. Almost recently, a choice between the two has presented itself. I don't know what path to take because both require a sacrifice & I don't think I can weigh the differences. All my life I've been trying to combine the two & it's fucking killing me.

Who are you to try to change me?
Who am I to breathe?

Friday, March 30, 2012

Friday, March 30, 2012; Sinner

"Must we spoon-fed you the truth?"
"Well I can't find it in the dirt beneath my fingernails so I suppose so."
Many stories of travesties and end-of-the-world notations have floated to & fro from town to town. Cigarette smoke causes global warming & her grandmother died of cancer. She never met her grandmother; only post cards from random cities would come each year for her birthday. Her grandmother's birthday, not her own.
There's joy found in the scent in old oil paints & the breeze one may feel as they swing on the tire swing in the garden. They plowed over her garden four years ago.
Crying out to Jesus always sits on the steps of the back porch metaphor that sleeps in her mind but Jesus never came to her as child when she cried out for help so why would he come now?
The first few years of this new year have blurred together. She can't remember specific instances except for the ones where she cried herself to sleep. She thought the sun could cheer her up but the sun is still hiding behind the clouds where Jesus supposedly hides as well.
The world has let her down so now she wants to burn in hell.
She smiles most of the time out of habit but memories haunt her considering they fill each corner of this town. Instances lie within each street sign & the roses that grow in only one place she knows of brings her to her knees.
Nothing & no-one will allow her to forget.
Her heart is aching.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Monday, March 19, 2012; Triangle

Although accomplishing something wrapped within mediocrity she can't help but feel strength within the warmth of core. An empowerment known to the patient & unseen. Months toiled by & she had almost forgotten the task she had started during the peak of winter; it was buried beneath all things forced to be relevant to survival.
Finally she gave in because of the leisure of time; here she is smiling about how she has beaten her first video game. Take that sister's of fate.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Sunday, March ?, 2012; I'm breathing right?

The same photographs are hung on the walls, the same children run through these halls, & the same delirium rules good-mannered intentions. Masks are placed upon each face, a happiness forced to show their teeth, until routine has marked it as the truth.
Secrets still linger behind each locked door.
Each second the clock accounts for is harassment & Jesus has let them down too many times. But here they are, priceless & smiling. Ashamed & caring. & for entertainment, rules remain desolate while morals are mandatory.
Selfishness rules each humble deed. You can hear it their voice; you can see it in the way their hands work. Their grips shows implications of their true self. Ignorance harbors each step.
Expectations are being lowered as the years hasten.
Children fall for their lovers quicker than ever just to have glass hearts broken.
Eyes don't meet for fear of regulations.
Voices stumble for fear of consequences.

We are not ourselves.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Tuesday, March 6, 2012; Why Wait Another Day?

Familiar tendencies are starting to take place. As I grow older, I start to notice trends throughout the seasons. My thoughts are similar, as are my cravings. I'm starting to figure myself out. The skies are blue today. My bones are cheerful simply from a change of atmosphere & a breathe of fresh air. Though exhausted, I can still appreciate this masterpiece that surrounds me. 
It's that time of year where I can't stand the darkness anymore but I've been struggling with even peering out the windows. & as much as I love natural light, I cannot pick myself up from the floorboards. My creative intent has sunk to the bottom of the sea & I'd like to go with it. The sun shines but I'm afraid to step outside. I keep reminding myself that my legs aren't broken & I've got all the means to do something but I just can't seem to make anything count. Inspiration always comes & goes & I never do anything about it. I'm selfishly hiding away the best parts of myself. I don't allow myself to achieve anything I take the time to perceive; all this wishful thinking drones & drains the most delicate fragments of my frame.
It's time I do something. Or I'm going to end up killing myself.
It's half past nine & this day has already proved it's self sufficient & dazzling & worthy to be incredible. Life is difficult but I've got to make everything count because if I can't do that then what can I do? I'm my work, right? 
I'm tired of wasting hours & salvaging seconds. I'm tired of waiting & I'm tired of pointless conversations. I'm sick of sleeping in & going to bed early. I'm tired of making nothing of these days.
The clocks are ticking & they're only telling me one thing so au revior & happy Tuesday. 

Monday, March 5, 2012

Monday, March 5, 2012; Cape Cod

Think of the account in which you used to take her & now, amidst new inquiries, you find yourself not needing to break her but to forget everything she once was. A reckoning is what you seem to desire & scream out for but she rejects the ideals in which you find to be presumptuous to the truth.  She asks you reasons why but confronted with those questions, you find that you have no reasons why.
"We're all dancing along the edge darling, so come take my hand. Now, tell me how that isn't good enough."
What you don't know, or never knew, or never will be able to realize is that she's conflicted with fear. In the processes of being forced to make a choice she's amounted herself to transform into an inanimate object, losing her realization of existence & loosing her symmetry with the stars. Living is easier when you forget the reality that we're all going to die. I suppose that's what she did & I suppose that's what you're all hung up about. But we're all tormented with the questions concerning life & death & the atmosphere around us. Things that science ignores & most accept mediocre versions of mediocre ideas. Where is the truth to accept?
It's in the cracks of your hands. It's in a stranger's glance. It's beneath the stairs, top shelf, smallest box. It's in an ashtray where cancer coincides. It's in your dreams that you tell her each morning. It's in the books no one bothers to read. It's within you & within me. But there's a catch. You've got to do what they tell you to be considered right; you must accept philosophical meanderings that someone else did for you. "A copy of a copy always turns out grey." Let me find this by myself. 

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Saturday, March 3, 2012; Headaches

If our memories were to fill a book, then there would be less than seventeen pages. Only specific instances would be permitted to form sentences or maybe just sentence fragments. Smiles could be seen in between the lines of chaos & righteousness; prayers can be read from the ink smears & coffee stains.
Sometimes I believe my memories have been robbed from me & replaced with disgraceful lies & empty hopes. A protagonist, drowned. Kindness is no longer a friend, but an enemy or so to say, a hoax. Trust no longer binds me to anything except for the force that holds my feet to the ground. & now that love's no longer here, why am I still breathing? 

I don't know & I suppose I'm supposed to write my troubles in a leather bound book. Retracing my steps, discovering each memory you've taken. My sanity was lost within a rage unheard by most & I don't want it back. I'm glad that I went through the things that I went through. Almost losing my life several times only certified my right to breath. Having my worth belittled each morning only reassured me that I am the opposite of what I've been told.
I still miss the hands that harmed me but I still hate the world around me & all I crave is sunlight. 

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Sunday, February 26, 2012; Hidden

Can't you see this? I'm burning. Thoughts have been folded over & over & over again & then hidden in between my ribs & throughout the columns of my spine. I'm overloaded with annoyances, thoughts, desires, & constraints. Constraints, dear God, constraints! My wrists are tied together behind my back. I'm wandering mindlessly back & fourth throughout this darkened room looking for a knife to cut the rope. But relations are hard to find. Surprises never come by. Routine is all I've got. I can't scream aloud for help because if even my whispers are heard, I'm dead. Death to the one who questions faith! May they burn in hell or freeze in the loneliest corners of the cosmos. So here I am, drifting alone in shallow waters. Wallowing in questions. Believing in disbelief because relations are hard to find. Surprises never come by & routine is all I've got. 
Their words are despicable, a mockery to their own crowns. "I'm atop the world," they say without realizing their heads are buried beneath the ground. They are foolish, a mockery to their own crowns.
What good is your foundation if you know nothing of it? "You are blind. You are blind! You are blind! Pick up the hammer & smash your own skull in because it possess no wealth to neither I, nor anyone else for that matter."
"The answers lie in the shadows. Go find them."

Friday, February 24, 2012

Friday, February 24, 2012; Echos

Thin strands of light slipped through the curtains & crept beneath her eye lids to awaken her. She found it quite sincere of the sun to remember to rise before her alarm clock silenced her sleep. Hours toil by but still not a cry in the world could lift her limbs from the mattress that lie on the floor. 
Crumpled newsprint & ideas surround the space in which embodies her; her memories have been written on trash.The seconds in which she can remember are the only things that hold any worth. The world has spoiled her dreams & killed her faith; only nostalgia remains. She drowns in darkness beneath the busy feet of the world. But she misses sincerity more than she misses connection. A stranger's smile could bring her more satisfaction than a reunion of a ten year friendship rekindled. & as much as she craves the crisp movements of the wind she doesn't dare set foot out the front door. 
"The world is a menace," she keeps telling herself. Words etched into her heart. Not the loveliest spring day could convince her of any different. Her own stubbornness has locked her away, a diamond locked in a safe. Gaining value with each passing day, never realizing the potential in which she holds within her own two hands.
Hiding, unknown, never a thought goes her way. The days seem to blur, never a significant moment to recall. New stories are nonexistent, she is trapped within the curse of repetitionThough breathing & living within simplicity, she is making the least. Although graced with a live to live, she is caught in between uncertainty & callousness. She's a creator, but she's created her own darkened world within her mind. Time goes on, she's still alive but dead to herself, who's screaming inside.   

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Thursday, February 23, 2012; Cremation

Soft rampant symphonies guide her through ominous alleyways, lifting fear with melodies of serenity and flagrancy. Apparitions fade as steps hasten. Darkness eludes as each note pounds against her eardrums. The dirge grows softer but not a muscle stiffens. She is free. 

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Tuesday, February 21, 2012; Restocking

Sinking solemnly into a realm where dwellers believe that the company is more than boring. The tea has gone cold, crumpets old & stale. Nothing left to give but misery & disappointment to the ones who's hearts are thirsty for self-sacrifice. Ingredients from the cupboard have gone missing, stolen by the ungrateful & neurotic. Only untouched ideals remain pushed back into the corners of the highest shelves. Things that I'd like to save for the appreciative & deserving, if only worthy by my own standards. A feast, so to say, for the loving & unloved.
Tall tales dance around seclusion that one may take part in. Disease & disasters, selfishness & meaningless ties.
Break me. Mangle my organs if that's what you desire. My heart is locked in a box away from the carnivorous clamor. My intentions unknown since the day I found it within myself to say, "Hello." But now darkened, stiffened, shut off.
Please, dim the lights & softly shut the door when you notice my eyes have grown weak & I can no longer breathe sufficiently 
anymore. Or perhaps, stop staring at me as if you've lost your sight. As if, I'm no longer who I once was or who you thought I was. I am filled with petty imperfections; I am a human being. Falling & tripping on every stone that blocks the path in front me, in front of you.
Months ago, I decided to take a rest & catch my breath. Retrace the steps to which I've gotten myself here. Rethink the lies that have been etched into my arms. Relive explosions trapped in my memories from so many years ago. Fix the damages. Discover something more than movie marathons & expeditions throughout the town. Consume truth & beauty as if it were water falling from the sky. But humanity won't leave me & once I sniff a hint of it's presence I'm addicted to the social construct of company. Mediocre as well as overwhelming. Unneeded but there always.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Monday, February 20, 2012; Magnificence

Patience doesn't seem to exist any more. Only enthusiasm at the point in time when an idea is created or a plan made seems to be visible. Once time dribbles in by forceful currents, heads are screwed back on according to the current circumstance. Everything else is forgotten; it sinks to the bottom of the sewers.
Rare but possible, thoughts float back up to the brim of our existence but never as wholesome as that first starting point. Moments can't last more than a few seconds & then our attention is bombarded by the filthy habits of this world. Words meant for every human being go unheard. Art is thrown away each & every hour.
It makes me wonder, how can we be so selfish, to hide these visions at the bottom of our pitiful hearts? Our imaginations can be transformed into a work of art, but most don't have the attention span to illustrate that dream.  Left with a feeling of uneasiness we must forget our passions & do the work that we signed up with our first breath of air. That is what society's deemed life to be about & I suppose that's how we must live it. Still, true suffering is disappearing. It is consumed with the tip of a glass & a good three hours of staring into a television. Where are the martyrs? The outcasts? The lovers? The ones who will die for for their beliefs, ideas, plans, visions, dreams? My sight only allows me to see people who only die to themselves & live by the majority's laws. Chip away the wallpaper & rip out your backbone. Ideals have been hidden between the cracks of this obsolete infrastructure. I'm not saying scream anarchy at the top of your lungs. I'm asking you people to not compromise yourself or what's right. Why does that seem to be so hard nowadays? Everything goes wasted within a human being who slaves away for this society. Time's lost & as are countless masterpieces. Our parents drown us at the point of birth in hope a brilliant memory may be lost. Substances are gods in the feeble minds of today's youth. Strobe lights are the rising sun & cigarettes are a breath of fresh air.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Sunday, February 19, 2012; Trapped

A level of intensity can be felt in the smooth tips of my fingers or upon the sharp edge of my tongue. Today, my thoughts have left me fearless; my words, powerful. An abundance of smiles & characteristic longings leave me happy. Stinging poison still floats within my veins but an immunity has been gained through insight from an unknown source. A lesson learned with the viewing of time I suppose. Assumptions crushed with every new sunrise.
A sterling star may dance light years away but we'll never view such a thing. Our eyes remain blinded between crashes & broad empty spaces of false love & presumptions. Sheer lies hold us together. Lies lead to treadmills & tripping upon laces. These are just daily examples from each of our lives. Daring to bold but only failing in the end.
If a second seeps through the crack, let that be a blessing & if your voice be heard by somebody, sing through the tyranny. There's hope in a raindrop & love in this storm. There is no indifference.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Thursday, February 16, 2012; Subtle Art

As of late, I've felt a loss of appetite & a gain of weight. Subtly, my mood has transgressed into a sort of bewildering coma. Darkened, quiet, & of absolute unimportance. More or less, I simply would just like to lay in my bed all hours of the day.
Apathy has fallen but my spirits still fly high; only motivation has fled. The odd thing of it all, it is still there. Basking one minute & then hiding the next.
I'm confused by the things that surround me & myself. If I cannot understand myself, then can I understand anything? I waste so much time pondering instead of actually searching for keys. By the time I figure something of little significance out, they've locked the door and walked off. I'm not afraid to scream truth at the top of my lungs; I no longer feel capable or able to do so. The only thing that holds me back is my own being.
Mysteriousness is fading with each & every discovery I'm trying very very hard to figure out. Although trying hard, all my focus seems to turn into a haze with simple follies. More chains are attached with each glance towards the ground or towards careless people. My heart is wasted with each unnoticed endeavor, but that's just selfish implications in the end. (& if you allowed me to define selfishness, I would define this as the wrong worldly version of it.)
It's despicable of me to give into things that I hate. Here, we are back to the part where we realize this is all my fault. "I did all of this to myself" sort of thing. Slowly dwindling away my own integrity like I enjoy losing bits and pieces of an entire working organism. Ripping off organs, breaking bones, teeth rotten; fallen out.
My soul is a vicarious monstrosity.
Before the title credits stream at the end of this game I will leave with the notion that I believe that I can fix this broken heap of scrap metal.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Tuesday, February 14, 2012; Catastrophe

Mon Petit Chou- Five months, roughly half a year. That honestly seems so small compared to the four years to which we've actually known each other. It's almost an insignificant number to such an able bond. Look at how far we've come; imagine how far we'll go. 
As you say, "We are impossible."
I tend to be tacky when I find things unneeded, but with that besides the point, I can never doubt that I'm in love. That's a set fact within my state of mind. 
Valentines Day is just so cliche. I even feel cliche for saying that because so many people despise this holiday simply depending on if they have someone to hold their hand. Well, I have someone to hold my hand & I still do not like it. I wish I did. I wish that I could enjoy the simple things that some seem to like, but I can't. Their existence torments me.
I do not like the idea of anniversaries, holidays, birthdays, etc. Why do we put so my effort to make one day special yet it always turns out stressful? Why can't we put out a little extra effort each and every day to make it just a little special, to allow the people whom surround us to know that they are loved. No expectations, no stress, just simple unconditional love.
But it's not that simple when we live in a world of apathy. The people who celebrate these petty holidays are the people who are scared of fulfillment. Their philosophy lies in the hearts of the people around them, their counties, their diamond earrings.
Everything that I have ever planned in attempt to open up these peoples' eyes, I never set out and actually did. The strangers in which I wanted to meet never heard my name or saw my smile due to my own apathetic mindset. Within the past year I've forgotten the one thing that lacks within these dreadful days. I hope things shall be different. Things can change, because things get better I suppose.  But today will be different. I will smile at the awkward, & invade the shy, shake hands with the intimidating, & shock the blind. If I am to celebrate such a fucked up tradition, I shall do it on my own terms.
So my lover, here's to you, & every other stranger, here's to you also.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Saturday, February 11, 2012; Canterberry

Trapped within the barriers of my own mind, I find it difficult to speak. Most of my words seem unneeded to be heard by these careless people. & if I were to explain, would they even listen to hear the bulk of it, or simply the gist of it? I don't want someone to simply listen. I want someone to understand.
No one seems to understand how seeing a little boy run around an auditorium can break my heart. Or the emails that I've gotten from my mother. Or to see my step-father in the grocery store. Or any man that resembles him.
No one seems to understand that I can't comprehend the act of selfless kindness in abundance. But I crave it.
No one seems to understand how fragile of a skull I carry atop my head. My thoughts can be shattered by any one action. My dreams, hopes, love, gone.
The people around me, the ones I no longer speak to, are my chains. They bound my fears unspoken; burry my devotions deep within the oceans. I am wrapped around their fingers as they are wrapped around mine. Our hands clasped.
What pains me, is when I hear or see how they're doing & it's not okay. When will a single human being feel okay for more than twenty minutes. (or am I just applying that to myself?)
Or when they lie to themselves.
In my fragility, I must force strength or I am going to turn into someone that I was never meant to be.
After last night, I can honestly say I’ve gained the power within myself to no longer care. It’s a waste of time and heart to care.
So long people of today.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Thursday, February 9, 2012; Out of Step

Malleable ideas are easier to idolize; materials that allow you to move your bones and stretch your muscles are easier to obsess over. But ideas of the mind, the ones that stay up in the air, things you cannot grab no matter how high you reach or jump, are slowly fading.
Simplicity is now harder to achieve, beliefs are simply follies trampled with ease, convictions are so to say, non-existent. The mind is no longer careful, but careless.
God, poetry, danger, freedom, goodness, sin.
It's all disappearing into a mirage of comfort. & here I am, paraphrasing Brave New World, but that's where we're headed. A work of fiction can transcend into a warning.
Substance, substance, substance, substance, substance!
We're now afraid of thoughts. Fear of intelligence, ideas, emotions; Fear of love.
The thrills of life will never be enough, not anymore. We're searching for a pleasure that could be achieved without the help of an exterior enabler. Work ethics have been lost. Patience is no where to be found. Achievements are rare.
But drugs are inexpensive, & easy to find.
& it's only going to get worse.
In a country, that's built on corruption, your head should be clear & your eyes open. You shouldn't have leisure time to drink during all hours of free time. You should be ready to fight. You should already be fighting. If not outside the system, then within it.
If you don't see something wrong, you're eyes are closed. Not just within the government systems but within the minds of your families and friends. Within the streets of the cities, the grocery stores, the lakes, the surrounding states, countries, continents.
As selfish as we are, there's no doubt that we are the cause to our pain & suffering. If a difference were what one really wanted, they'd make that happen. Even the slightest difference.
I am about to make the slightest difference.
As of today, I am now of out of step with the world.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Tuesday, February, 7, 2012; Thirteen Doubts

The people of today blindly go about their days without minding precautions warned to them over and over and over again. Though completely awake, it's as if the people of today sleep walk through the streets. A loud crash might wake them, or a death. Perhaps, two? It'd be appreciated if one could widen their perspective for more than the time allotted. To breathe, for more than five minutes. But no matter how loud I scream, "WAKE UP." The ones who hear let the words drift in out of their hollow skulls. My words make me an enemy, assured as a terrorist at best to society's addictions.
So I stopped trying. My ambitions were crushed by the ignorance of others and my inability to slowly bring up ideas to help for the better. Now, each second is spent in thought, in utter hate and disgust. Each individual idea, gone to waste, trapped in my mind. Because, no one understands, and some think it appropriate this way.
It's not.
We're digging our own personal hell. Each and everyone with their own grave, that's soon to come once the cycles end.
Souls wasted, memories damaged, bodies burned, ideas converged.
But, my judgmental frame makes me no better than the rest.
& when times decides to reveal the truth, we'll discover who's right and who's wrong.
& when the world concludes to swallow us all, we'll have nothing else to do but let it.

That's the song we sing, to help us through the night; when ideas emerge that remain unheard of the masses who don't give a damn about the definition of right. & once sanity turns within in the person who thinks, we cast them out without a thought leaving them alone and incapable. But when a brain-dead being smirks in delight, all we do is agree.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Sunday, February, 5, 2012; Short-handled Shovels

Despite my entire body being sore, despite I must redefine my illusions of home, and despite that I have to watch church on television in about an hour, I am incredibly happy and extraordinarily cheerful. I haven't felt as so in a very long time.
It's been less than twenty-four hours and tension is easing; I'm starting to feel okay.
Let's hope such a peace can last for more than two days. If it does, then perhaps I'll be able to complete a thought, or a song, or a book, or be able to accomplish something besides laying within the comforter on my bed.  
As short as this might be; this is all my thought process contains. Cheers.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Wednesday, February 1, 2012; Calling Mothra

"Good morning to you!" That is something I'd like to hear directed my way each morning. A sort of human companionship that's stronger than the bond that you have with strangers in the street or with the people in my home for that matter. Someone to care about if whether your dreams were pleasant or not, to hold you if they were filled with demons, gore, hurricanes, or a giant fucking moth picking up your house and dropping it into the Pacific ocean. But where are you my mysterious sincere human? Can the closest living being to me really be my immature blood-hungry kitten? I don't know, we'll just leave it at that. At least I've got a bed to dream my nightmares in.
Today, mostly, was like other days. Always contemplating the reasons to why I'm here, to why I deserve to be here. To thrive on this planet of rubble. Most of the time, it points to the same answer; some clay maker decided to spend eight hours molding my body together. I lack evidence for the latter because I'm only searching one specific side of things. & because I'm not taking advantage of all the information around me, none of my questions are being answered. Without the lack of insight from someone with the same views as me, my questions are slowly being forgotten. My heart is being filled to the brim with wishful thoughts. Oh, how I wish that one were to care about the things I care about! I feel that they may not look into things in fear they could be proven wrong. That's only an assumption though.
There's nothing wrong with the truth, and I wish the people who surround me could realize this.
I think the days are getting longer as my life gets shorter. Conversations with others don't seem to matter as much to me. Most words that escape peoples' mouth are meaningless. Always talking about the people around them or what they had for breakfast, or the fucking weather. I am not an exception to this but I feel as though that time wasted on such things is unneeded. I don't entirely know why I allow myself to associate with such misconceptions.
Do you know what I completely despise? I despise living my life in utter confusion. The truth has always been foggy but I wish that I could at least predict the vague happenings of tomorrow.
Or next week. But moods rule my demeanor. And words captivate my life. The hardships of others plan out my day. I hope this is to change in due time (Sunday) but if it doesn't, then I suppose I'll always be confused and conflicted. I'll always be contemplating redundant ideas because I cannot get a moment of silence to complete a single thought.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Tuesday, January 31, 2012; Loose Charades

You all are so incredibly bitter, tightly bound, & sensibly blind.
I only want to break these boundaries. 

After I had awoken, I was struck with a slap to the face & several moments of disarray. Although this day has blossomed into something wonderful with the ticking of a clock, I still remain unsure and confused. I don't know if I'm making the right decision and I won't know until I fulfill these plans. The words have left my mouth and I seem to see that I've already broken a few shallow hearts.
But I can't let that get to me. Because the things that I remember are the things that define me; they are things that lie to me every day. Dribbling memories only come around when I've dozed off into moments when one could define me as crazy. That is what keeps me up at night. Losing precious time to ponder past events that lost their meaning seconds after they occurred. A fire might blaze but it burns out quite quickly, only leaving crumbled foundations behind, not a beautiful diamond.
You can only be beautiful if you have the means to be.
My family is not familiar, or friendly, or loving.
Lost meanings.
I live amongst sycophants & strangers.
Still everything is downtrodden, & one must come to terms with such rubbish.
Back and fourth, back and fourth, back and fourth, until I forgot which direction I had originally planned to head towards.
I am confused.
I'll let the worthless win while my integrity remains screaming from inside my rib cage. Bruising my bones, begging to be let out. Dying with each failed attempt. Forgetting with each wasted breath. & soon enough, it's gone.