deafmute

I don't want to hear what you have to say
I don't want to speak

words mean nothing



I don't care if it hurts

you or me

I just want silence

keep your opinions

I didn't ask for them

I never will

I feel a disconnect coming again

cut the wires

turn off the phone

leave it all behind

view the unseen

watch it all burn, fade, fall away

Outstretched Hands : Sorrow of 1,000 winters

As winter fell down London town,
I feel the walls closing in

The silver sky is turning us, to stone, 

We hide beneath the ground,
Feeling so broken and,

Cannot tell the day and night, 

Apart.







Well I think,
But I'm not sure,


I don't know how, It is, we came to be here

Doesn't it seem strange?

I mean, could it be it's not really happening now.

And the animal,
Is always in your heart,


And the animal,
Will forever be waiting where you are.

Breathe in the air for me,




You tell me what it feels like, To be, free,


But your innocent experience,
Can lead you astray sometimes.

And passion isn't always the key

So you dig in and I hold out,
And don't let go for nothing,

Didn't you see me fall? 

...Unless it's not really happening at all.

Angel,
And the animal,
Will always be in your heart,


Angel,
And the animal,
Forever will be where you are,

One day 

You remember this

When all has come to pass

One day 

You remember you are 

Not the one you think you are

As winter left off London town,
I feel my heart opening
So I, turn around and breathe you in,
Again.

Yoav - Angel and the Animal

you don't get curtain calls here

Morrissey fills the room, not that I need it.  nothing's quiet in my head.  staring at the ceiling through lenses not my own, but I see the same.  I wonder what the paint will look like in 5 years.  10.  30.  Will it still be here?  Will I?  Facing mortality, whether it be your own or a close friends, is an experience like none other.  You've never felt more dead or more alive.  Broken, but stronger than ever.  Weak and scared shitless, but ready to fight harder than you imagined you were able.

we cling to one another.  share our burdens with each other when the load becomes too heavy.  This is how we make it.  this is how we live.  we cannot do it alone.  and sometimes, reminding ourselves of that is enough to get us through.  take us up and over, where we all fly free and fearless.

The make-shift heart and it's musings; Singulus/Concordis

in the end all we are; faded sense of self, piles of excuses.  half awake and fully dead, no one notices how we're all the same.  convinced of others greater fortune, blind to our own.  things held on pedestals where they don't belong.  where words become useless behind double meanings.  things seen more clearly through blind emotion, but locked away from the world.  if ever there was a time to be, to think, to feel; it would be now.  this moment. this moment. this moment.

comprehension fails me.  why the fear of breaking yourself, if everyone's already shattered?  together we adhere, apart we're just pieces of the endless puzzle.

there is too much to say, and time is but a passing friend.

cheap imitations are better than nothing.

Swallow the bitter relief.  Long, hard gulps.  Looking for that second when it all starts to fade.

I look for nothing.
I want for nothing.  Well, nothing more than another. And another still.

It helps to take things out of focus.

Everything just seems better when the edges of my reality are blurred.

though nothing changes

I am unchanged

amber hues of liquid bliss.

stay in the moment

pretend

and never to return

to write what I feel seems a betrayal of sorts.  and I wish I knew.

what do you do with a claustraphobic heart?

close your eyes and the rest will follow.

human afterall

and apparently broken, though no one seems to know where.  and it's unnerving.  I am scared.  I am worried.  I am freaked the fuck out.  and I know it's not time for all that yet.  but I'm young.  I'm supposed to be invincible.  or something like it.

Thing was none of this even occurred to me until I talked to my brother.  He comes up to me out of the blue the other day and asks, "Where's mom?  Are you sick or something?  Did the mail come yet?"

Outstretched Hands: Pocket the Universe.

Why is it that most people are incredibly ignorant about what they should be infinitely knowledgeable about?  Know thyself.  Seems a relatively simple concept.  But people tend to over-complicate it.  Weigh it down with a million different things, instead of letting it be.

Is it fear that keeps you from looking inward?  From conversing openly with yourself and your true inner nature? It's just you, and you're stuck with yourself until you make your grand exit.  So why not be on familiar terms?



I feel like this isn't making much sense, I happen to be slightly out of it as I write this.  I can't seem to properly voice what it is I'm getting at...

Unsettled

So after 15 minutes of bawling like a fricken child I am finally calm enough to....to...IDFK breathe? think properly?  whateverthefuck.  didn't even get 40 minutes of sleep in before I woke up screaming.  (not to mention woke everyone in my house and probably a two block radius.)   It's been a long time since it's been like this.  I guess it was too much wishing that these kind in particular had stopped completely.  and God, I'm tired.  so fricken tired, but I'm afraid to sleep.  How pansy-assed is that?!  I just can't handle the things I see.

Sod off!

Have I been working a lot?  Ish.  Am I tired? Ish-ish.  Have I been a bit distracted? Ish.  Do I give a fuck?  No.



So yeah maybe I'm picking up extra hours.  But when that money's in the bank, the time won't seem so bad.

And yeah I'm a bit tired-ish, and maybe I haven't been resting properly, BUT really...  What the hell else would I do with myself?  I need to work, and I refuse to give up ANY of the other of my side interests. (tweeting, LJ, drawing, etc.)  So yeah.  I just sleep more on my days off, I figure it all evens out in the end.

So I admit, grudgingly, that my focus has been split; more than I'd like.  But that can be remedied with a day planner and a pen.  So there.  :P

Someone's gonna have to explain this to me.

Why do I have to be bubbly & upbeat every-fucking minute of every fucking day?  Why is it that if I'm quiet for longer than 30 seconds, or if the smile that I plaster on my face is less than stellar, that everyone assumes I'm pissed/sad/suicidal (fucking suicidal, REALLY? GEESUS) whateverthefuck?

What really pisses me off and saddens me to no end is the fact that you think that if I'm not crazy hyper, and perky that something is wrong.  It saddens me that you don't know me at all.  I bet you have no idea that I actually hate talking.  But it's easier to fill the silence than deal with your ignorant questions.  So I do talk, a lot.  So much so that some days I wish I were mute.  You don't have a clue that I think words are pretty fucking useless.  I mean they have uses, yes, that's not what I mean.

I will spew out whatever just to quell you questions and remarks.  I have no feeling behind anything I'm saying to you, I'm just filling the air to make you comfortable.  So my words are useful in shutting you up, but they're empty, therefore completely useless.

It is different if we're talking on a certain level.  Then I'm happy to try and talk it out with you.  Though I feel incredibly awkward, b/c nothing anyone ever says sound right at times like that, but still I don't mind trying.

Hmm..... what else?  I hate repeating myself or being asked to explain myself.  If you ask me if I'm ok and I say "fine", then you ask me "are you sure?" if I wasn't sure I wouldn't have said so, and furthermore if I wasn't and really wanted to tell you I'd fucking say so.  And having to make explanations, if you can't see why I did something I did, you really weren't paying attention.  Besides the fact that I rarely do anything out in the open that isn't pretty fricken clear, if you didn't catch it then it obviously wasn't meant for you.


To close, it's not to say that all talk is all bad.  Or that being upbeat is a crime.  But if I'm not firing on all cylinders can you just assume that I might just be a little tired?  As is usually the case.  Because if something was really wrong I would A) say nothing, B) avoid the subject like the plague, and C) do my best to make damn sure you never pick up on the fact that there is an actual problem.


One of these days I'm going to end up packing all my shit and leaving in the middle of the night.  Become an invisible citizen in some all consuming city, or maybe an obscure hick town, and never look back.

Jeudi

Sometimes I really scare myself.

Today was...

Well I'm not going to try and say it out loud.  A, because I wouldn't even begin to know how to word it.  And B, I know it would sound immensely weird, not to mention sort of unbelievable.

It feels as though the life has been drained out of me.  Even as I type this I feel like all I am is fading further.  I feel used, I don't feel real.

spectacle

Yeah, and maybe that's how the West was won, but conversely it's also how lives are ruined.

weights and measures.

How is it that you're the one person I can be heartbroken for but still want to throttle?  I want to hug you and shake you.  Hold you with one hand and smack you with the other.

Falling for you has always been easy.  You've known that no matter what I'd be there to catch you.  Sometimes I wonder if maybe at some point, I should've let you fall.  Saying we've been through some shit would be an understatement.  Even so, I've tried to protect you as best I could.

I never want the world to harm you or taint your childlike purity with it's cruel, dirty hands.  I have done things.  Things I would do in a heartbeat again to keep the realities of the world from seeping onto you.  But I can't help but wonder, especially after tonight, if I've done you a disservice?

All these years standing guard, but for whose benefit? Certainly not yours, if so you'd not be so ill prepared for all of this.

With the current situation I can't do things behind the scenes like I normally would.  I would have to help where you could see.  And that is worse than doing nothing.  Then you would know, you would look back and see me just behind the curtain everytime before.

So I nail myself down right here and let you go.  Let you live and all that comes with it.  I feel a great and consuming sorrow for the hurt you are soon to endure.  But I am hoping that by your side, rather than carrying you, that I can help you to stand taller.  Help you to become all I know you can.

I believe it, though most days I'm blind to it.

The better part of our lives are anchored in faith.  I don't mean faith in the 'divine' I mean faith in general.  I would have been the first to say faith is bullshit, blah blah blah, but it just occured to me I'm really fucking stupid.  For faith to have no factor at all in my life I would have to, had to have been, 100% sure of every single decision I've ever made.  I know there's no fucking way for that to be true.  I don't think I've ever been 100% sure of anything.  Ever.  Yeah I've had good feelings, vibes about stuff, but I don't think I would've staked my life on some of those choices. 

We find ourselves saying "it will all work out in time"  or "it will happen when it's supposed to"  that, folks, would be Lady Faith herself all up in your head & heart. So there.  So *fucking* there.   All I can do is resist the urge to stick my tongue out at myself in the mirror and just laugh instead.

Thank you Universe for reminding me once again, when I most need it, that I am ever the naive lamb.

Outstretched Hands: Singing songs without the lyrics.

Always when you least expect it.  That's kind of bullshit.  I was expecting it and then it happened.  Does that mean I willed it into exisistence?  Or is it mere happenstance?  At this point does it even matter? 


Ashes.  All of it.  All there ever was or could have been.  Am I supposed to feel something?  I don't.  Though I hardly did when you were around so I guess it's not surprising. 


I can't recall if there were good times.  Or if there were bad times.  I'm sure they happened in the past, but I can't cite any.  I do know the lesson you were.  That I most assuredly remember.   You were important until you weren't, as with all things in life.

disregard, disrepair

way to be immensly selfish.  yeah I'm an awesome person.  awesomely asshole.  I mean is there a brain up top or is that all just self-deluded air?

Scratch the surface

It just occured to me that I have a lot of double standards that I go by.  Especially when it comes to things that annoy me or piss me off.  Almost the entire world can't get away with doing one thing that irks me.  BUT a select few can literally do everything I hate, plus 7 more things I had no idea bothered me, in the span of 10 minutes and I have no reaction. 


How did these few become to be infallible to me?

Furthermore how does anyone become a fixture in your life?  I know some come given to you, but they don't always stay that way.  And others they just somehow, someway get in under the wire.  You wake one morning to find them with you, a part of you. 

For a long time if not most of my life, I will admit, I have tried to fight off attachments.  And I would be lying if I said it wasn't a daily struggle to keep the attachements I now have.  To not pick fights that would piss people off and ensure that they leave me alone.  To show interest in the lives of those whom I care for.  Because I really do, though I may not show it.  Mostly because I'm unsure how.

I know this comes from lessons that I've learned from and extrapolated upon. 

Lesson: Some people can't be trusted.  Expanded: Most people can't be trusted.  Eventually you can convince yourself that no one can be trusted.  This is not the case, though some days it truly seems so. 


God, tangent much?  F'n A.

Point is, some people can get away with murder for me.  And I guess it bothers me how much that doesn't bother me.

unseen

Cool air ghosts across my face.  My hair swishes gently as I pull my coat tighter.  There's a newness in the atmosphere, the kind that only comes from the first snow.  Long since melted from the day, but somehow it has still left it's mark.  Everything seems different, is different. 

***



I'm not sure what it was, I just know something changed for me on that walk back to the car.  I was briefly cocooned in a sense of calm I did not know was possible to reach.  The world seemed another place for a few moments.  My soul was lifted.

Now that it's been dropped back into it's "rightful" place (which, who really knows about that?  Right?)  I'm left with...well something feels broken, or maybe shifted?  I can't discern.

I long for that chill again.  The one that leaves you warm and comforted.  It only happens at the oddest moments and you must, above all else, remember to revel in it.  Or you will feel a great loss later.

Like many things in life this is noted but not truly experienced.  Something only the perfect coalescence of elements can create.  Many other moments may be close, but none ever the same.  One of those rarities that when reached for, escapes you.  But if you wait, if you just wait, it will float gently down and land in your lap like a feather.

~

It's like I can't even feel

After the way you touched me

sleepwalker a.l.

speak to me of band-aids and mercurochrome

A pull.  Sometimes it can be a good thing.  Being drawn to something, and maybe you can even find fulfillment there.  But most of the time it just hurts.  A sharp yank in a direction which you had no intention of going.  Totally fucks up your gait, if not completely landing you on your ass.  And with a dislocated arm to boot. 

If you think about it, it seems most of our lives are spent repairing.  Either by what we, other people, or various outside forces have done to us. 


Though sometimes no matter how much spackle you slap on, or how many coats of new paint you add, there will always be a few things that are never quite the same.

Wounds that will never close, bruises that won't fade.  a hole in your chest where something used to be.  But now there's just an art deco lamp, because it looks pretty and makes the hole less noticeable.

Can we just sit on the concrete and pout for a minute?

Outstretched Hands: Gone. Or so it was, until it wasn't.

I can't understand why I need to make amends for something I didn't do.  I refuse to bow to your fiction.


If I were smart I would probably cut the ties that bind.  But I allow you to hold me back.  Hold me down.


History is all we really have.  And I'm not sure the good of that outweighs the present tragedy.

Take aim, but my name isn't on your bullets.

I am not the object you desire.  But I suppose you think I'm the closest thing to it.  Therefore, I am a sufficient target. 

this is nothing new.  and I am metaphorical Kevlar.




So ready the ammunition and unload.  Though you should really be gunning for yourself.

Outstretched Hands: Laying in the lilies.

something glimmers in the dimness.  feels like it was meant to be seen only at that exact second. 

it comes and goes as it pleases.  reminds me that life is beautiful, fleeting.  the colors dance in the distance, just out of reach.

not to taunt, but to inspire.  we strive to reach it, it doesn't occur to us that we never will.

Outstretched Hands: The spark that slumbers.

You're like a poem or a song I never got around to writing.

Beautiful in my mind, but unfinished.

Carried always, so it's never forgotten.  Just in case it would ever somehow find it's way to life.

Stuck between a rock and a bitchy muse

this is utterly frustrating.  it's not at all coming along how I'd like.  and I think my greatest fear, well ok, maybe not THE greatest, but still a big one. (it pertains to my writing.)  I think I somehow lost my "Brian voice" as people call it.  my perspective it totally fucked.  it feels like I'm forcing it, and I think the fic is coming out total shit. 

I don't know what happened.  I had it when I started the damn thing, but now......now it's just *poof* not there.  or repressed?  I have no fucking clue.



& on top of this I think I've pissed off K.  I did not mean to. The thing is, she's brassed off at me for something that A.) I have no idea how she figures this out, and B.) I would never stop doing.

I am so fucked.

the abyss of the precipice, that used to be the fault line.

seen behind the heavy veil of sleep

 an image

 so clear

reality pales in comparison.

this goes one of

2 ways

but if we're being honest it's usually door number two

Ice in the veins

chills down the spine

fear in your heart and sweat on your brow.

You don't get to escape

it always finds you, comes for you.

drugs?

they don't help, much.

that's why falling isn't easy.

no one will catch you.

Night Writer

it's easier to speak of the things we keep hidden in the dark when it's nighttime.  because everything is cast in an inky twilight.  the comfort of black skies, and the barest of illuminations written among the stars, allow an openness not found in the day.  under the harsh light and microscopes. 

we are away from the scrutiny, the judgement. 

whispers only meant to be heard when the world turns to shadow.  soft.  gentle.  soothing.

a greater peace can be found when there is nowhere to look.

Wow. I uh, wow, thank you.

So a co-worker of mine just came out to me last night.  Granted I already knew, but the fact that he trusted me enough (after only knowing me 2 weeks) to come out to me personally was an interesting feeling.  I could tell he is still a bit uncomfortable with saying it outloud, but I think the transaction went well.



"So, we're cool right? I mean I could see us hanging out for a long time, you know?"

"Yep.  Why?"

"Cause there's probably something I should tell you, I want to tell you.  I mean you probably already know, you're in my head all the damn time.  How in the hell do you do that anyway?"

"Magic."

"Right.  So..."

"Yeah I know.  You're cool, I'm cool, we're cool.  Now can you pass the popcorn?"


And just like that, we're solid.  We talked for a long time afterwards, about everything and nothing.  I feel very blessed that he chose to entrust me with this.  I imagine it's not easy at all choosing who to tell.  Sometimes you may think you know what the reaction will be, but it can turn out very differently. 

The strangest part was not that I felt the need, the obligation to reciprocate the trust by telling him about me, as one usually feels when someone reveals themselves to you.  It was that I wanted to reciprocate.  That is not something I feel often, the urge to share.  Really and truly share.  It was weird, foreign, but it also felt right. And I can really see us becoming good friends, lasting friends.  Which would normally scare me, allowing someone to get so close so quickly.  But I feel like he's ok.  He would never hurt me intentionally, if ever at all.  Only time will tell, but I think I'm right on this one.

I wish I knew.

Long gone are the days of sitting on the patio in the setting California sun, talking with my Uncle about everything and nothing.  Our cigarettes the only illumination in the twilight, sharing secrets we never told my mother.  The nights of sipping sweet tea with my Aunt, and watching The Deadliest Catch religiously.  Snuggled in her warm embrace as she petted my hair and made me feel so loved.  Laying out by the pool at 3 in the morning just watching the stars, contemplating on life's mysteries. 

I remember how it felt to leave.  We just sat around all day, willing time to stop.  Not much was spoken, but everything was said.  I knew it was a bad idea, leaving.  I knew that if I went I wouldn't be back for a long time, if ever.  But I did anyway.  On days like this I try to pull back the gloom and remember what it felt like to be in the sun.  We were different people.  Jubilant, warm, and free.  Not anymore.  I'm here now, and I can't recall why.  What was the reason?  And I cry.  I wish I knew.  I wish I knew why I did this to myself.

I could probably give lessons...

The curtain closes, and you'd do well to ignore the man behind it.

Sideways. But hey, it's still an angle.

I believe that things happen for a reason.  And in some cases we may never find out that reason, but I still believe there was one.  There has to be.  If not, if everything is random and without meaning, then what is there to live for?  What purpose would there be?  To live in world where everything that happened to you, everything you've done, had no point whatsoever.  No end game.  No, that is not a world I could not believe in.

And maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe it all really is capricious and irresolute.  BUT, what if I'm right?  I may never really know, none of us may never really know.  However, I do know that finding your own personal meanings in life and all that goes with living; is far more impactful than wandering around aimlessly with belief in nothing. 

And I DO NOT mean this in a religious context.  Though I'm sure it could be perceived as such. But if it correlates you in that context, it's not my position to shoot you down.  Like I said, personal meanings.

There is so much more that I want to say.  So much more in my head that I feel important to relate.  But words fail me. So I guess maybe I'm not supposed to tell it all.  Leave conclusions to be drawn, as it were.

I can't seem to find a way to end this neatly.  But life never is, so it would stand to reason that this shouldn't be either.

life lessons, via animal crackers

My bear is missing an arm.  But that doesn't make him any less delicious, or appealing, to my grumbly tummy in this midnight hour.  The elephant, lion, and the camel seem to be in a heated argument involving who will occupy what space in the bowl.  *tense like whoa*  Meanwhile the chocolate soy milk is just chillin' off to the side, waiting to be called to duty after I swallow this thing.  I say thing b/c it could be a manatee or maybe a seal?  IDFK it's a pretty amorphous shape, but it fills the void.

And then there were three.  Which in my current state strikes a chord.  Holy fuck, I'm crying over animal crackers.  REALLY?  Damn.  I'm NOT a cryer.  Mostly because I feel it's a sign of weakness.  Not to say those who do cry are weak.  I'm saying to me, personally, it makes me feel weak when I can't control my emotions.  But it seems over these past few days that's all I've been doing.  Well that, pacing the floor, and sleeping so much that I thought I was sick.  (Sleep does not come easy to me, and when I do sleep it comes at a price.  But the nightmares are another blog entirely, so we'll just skip that for now.)  Anyway.


Now for some reason I think back to the elephant, lion, and camel.  Was their argument ever resolved?  If so, who won?  And I'm struck.  It doesn't matter.  They all went to the same place anyway, so it's a moot point.  Instead of arguing before, they could've been rejoicing that they still had space to argue over.  Still alive and kickin', albeit kicking each other..........but I digress.


So here I am.  Staring into the bowl and it's occupants.  I find myself unable to submit the final three to their demise in an acid-y pit of doom.  They need to be together in the bowl; where they fit so perfectly back to back.  Though they may seem like an odd trio, I have it on good authority that they get along famously. 

is that a light?

It's amazing the perspective you can gain just by stepping completely away from something for 24 hours. I am now 100% sure of two things.  Two people, rather.  They have never asked me for anything, but have always supported me, and been there for me when I needed them.  Long ago I might've choked on these words if not said in a joking context.  But I love them.  We have been through a lot together in such a short amount of time, and I'm not sure how I would've dealt with it all if not for them.  I can only hope that I have been even half of what they've been to me.  They are two of the most amazing people in the world and I feel grateful and blessed to have met them & have them in my life.  (even if in an unconventional capacity)  And I hope the both of you know it. 

2 steps forward and 18 steps back.

I am tired.  I feel weighted.  I think maybe I've had enough?  Yes.  This is exactly the reason why I stopped getting close to anyone.  Because if I trust you, I trust you with my life.  And then you can kill me.  Which is about how I feel right now.  Dead.  I don't know which way to turn, who to believe.  I have put my trust where I can't see it, who it truly belongs to and now because of that I can't trust myself. 

My face burns with shame and this waterfall of saline rushing over it does nothing to soothe.  In fact it is making it worse.  I can't even recall the last time I cried.  And now I can't seem to stop.  I feel sick.  The last time I felt like this was 2 years ago.  I couldn't stand myself so much then, that I ran away and became someone new.  I'm almost at the point to where it hurts too much and I'm ready to shut off. 

I need to step back and re-evaluate EVERYTHING.

I have no idea where I am. 



and I'm scared

shadows

ones we lie in to escape the heat
ones we're covered in, cowering under
ones that appear merely to give contrast to the light in our lives
Some so faint you can barely see them.  But felt always.

weighted they hold us down
cloaked in safety, lift us up.

If you follow the darkness long enough, you will find illumination.

sometimes never

Will this hinder my voice?  By being open have I, in turn, closed myself off?  Is this the reason for my lack of inspiration?  Did I subconsciously, out of fear of becoming too free, sabotage myself?

Why am I asking questions when I already know the answers?  I hate self-analysis.  Yet here I am, doing just that.  Does this even get me anywhere???? Or am I just walking circles around my head? 

Again with the questions.  Maybe I'm writing them out b/c I know I will never ask them otherwise, I will never look closer. 

Maybe it's not all labyrinthine and dark as originally thought, maybe it's just simplicity in all it's beauty.

*snort* yeah right, I only said that b/c it makes it seem like I actually know what the fuck I'm talking about.

And I only said that to make you think I don't.

So, pray tell, which is it?

The left

or the right

bottom

or top

Explain yourself without saying anything

Because in my world it's always easier done than said.

*

Set the world on fire

I am here

We are set ablaze

We are burned apart

We are fused back together

The same

The opposite

The parallel

The eternal never

Wants, needs, haves.

Try, fly, die.

All we are

here

Points for the pointless

Weighing on my mind lately has been the struggles my brothers and sisters have been going through.  Their own families withdrawing their love, compassion, loyalty, and respect.  I am unable to truly imagine what they must feel, but I can speculate.  Pain, anger, fear, sadness.   But I would think what one would feel most of all is betrayal.  These people are your blood, shared their lives with you, they are supposed to love you unconditionally.  But it turns out to be a lie.  It's unconditional as long as you love who they say it's "ok" for you to love. 

faintly

something subtle, it starts.  even less discernable when it ends.

gentle.  slow.  whispered.  gone.

it's not always how you think it.  or even what you think.  it's the when that counts.





and for the most part people have really shitty timing.

I stab myself repeatedly

This is surrounded by a thousand knives pointing out at me.  Saying "keep away", yet I still lean in closer...impaling myself to catch a glimpse.  Curiousity.  I struggle against my body's response, against my mind's logic.  Another inch closer, I know the cut is deeper.  It's one of those wounds that you don't feel until later.  Until after the knife is removed, and your blood comes rushing out.  Two years.  Almost two years and not a word.  And now this.  Still nothing is uttered.......but there is a connection again, however tenuous. 

*Ahem* Dear brain, are you listening?

Note to self: Buck up and stop being so fucking emo.  It's pathetic, mmkay?  No one wants to read overworded paragraphs about you ultimately coming to the conclusion that you have NO IDEA what the hell you're talking about. <-- and that was a long-ass sentence.  Feelings are bullshit, so knock it off!  And stop handing out ammunition so freely. 'nuff said.

Lost under the surface

Been having some difficulty lately.  Writing. Living. Feeling.  It's like the second something is expected of me, I am no longer interested in following through.  I will drop it and let it all fall, break it into a millions peices. And all just so you know that I can't be trusted with it. I want to take your expectations, your heart, and set it all on fire.  Then make you watch it burn. Make sure you know never to entrust me with them again. 

This isn't going to make any sense.

I have that feeling like there's something creeping around in my brain.  Something that wants out, but I have no idea what it is.  It occurs to me that this blog is completely and utterly self-indulgent drivel.  But I need it.  It helps offset the fact that I no longer have the alone time to which I've grown accustomed. This is cathartic.


It also occurs to me that suddenly my life has become very busy.  Almost to the point of a comedy of errors.  And all I have to say about that is, "this will be interesting".

And lastly it occurs to me that I have to be up in roughly 3 1/2 hours.  Awesome. 


So that thing I was talking about, yeah still there.  Who knows, maybe tomorrow.

Dealings with a Schizo

Good God what have I gotten myself into?  As if I already didn't.....I just..... fuck.  This is going to be time consuming.  But it had to be done.  I think perhaps I will get a scheduler?  Yes that sounds like a capital idea. 

Impulses

Drive us.  Destroy us.  Some have more, some have less.  Some know how to control them and some don't even try. 

What is exactly is their purpose?  They don't give us a purpose, sometimes they distract from it.  But those are the fast moving ones. 

What about the slow ones? 

They creep in quietly, building in your subconscious.  Until one day >WHAM<  there it is.  Those are the dangerous ones.  The ones you will have a hard time talking yourself out of. 

Most of the time I create purely on impulse.  First impressions, instinct.  I will see something and it sets off a chain reaction in my brain that needs to be put down somewhere, as something.  If not it consumes me.  But those other ones are a bitch and half.  It's like the "frog in the pot" scenario.  Slow death, and you don't even know it.  By the time you're uncomfortable it's far too late. 

I hate that. So why is it that those impulses usually give the best in return?  Why is it always more pain = greater reward?  Who the hell thought that up?  Asshole.




(p.s. I am aware that the definition of an impulse is a quick & fleeting thing, but I just don't agree with that.  If you have ever experienced the kind of impulse I'm referring to then you won't get caught up on such trival things like "standard definitions")

Conversations with the dead

If you knew the outcome, would you change the circumstances?  Even if there was no guarantee that anything you might alter would make it better?  If presented with the easiest route to your destintation, would you take it?



I look at this now, silver and cold.  Continuing on in it's infinity. 

It looks like the halo I never had.

I don't think we all come in pure.  Some of use are marked from the beginning.  Tainted by past wrongs, and shadowed by future crimes.  The lucky ones will never know.

blissfully unaware

maybe in the end we are the ones whom fortune favors.  We fight, live, breathe, try, die harder.  Just to prove we can.  Cut ourselves open just to show we all bleed the same.

Noticed

Lights flashing all around.  I close my eyes as they hit my face. 

Weightless, but I feel them over every inch of my skin. 

Bathing me in colors, feelings, emotions. 

A guitar lifting my soul out & above.

A cello's low notes settling low in my stomach.

Piano chords, A, G, C, dancing in my ears.

The drums' steady beat vibrates through the air residing in my chest.  it becomes one with my own beat.  the one that's there all along, but is always ignored.




something inside wakes, sleeps no more......
quiet at first.
but louder now, it wants to be heard.

"I can't believe I never noticed my heart before."

MuteMath - Noticed

Lessons learned, bridges burned...

It's amazing what you can learn about someone in just a few weeks.  Even more amazing how in a matter of an hour you can find out everything you learned was a lie.  It's also surprising how vicious & malicious someone can get when they realize they've been found out.  It seems like everytime I start learning to trust in people again, along comes someone who abuses it. 


This just further solidifies my need to not trust in ANYONE.  I may seem public, may seem like I'm giving my all, but I am ALWAYS holding back the better part of me.  Even here. 


trust no one



I have learned that lesson a long time ago.  In fact it's the one I am taught repeatedly.  Maybe this time I will get it through my head.

it goes in phases

one, two, you haven't a clue.





three, four, find an open door





five, six, your life measured in ticks




seven, eight, get your fucking story straight

nine, ten, shall we go over this again?

une, deux, ouvrez vos yeux

trois, quatre, faites vous voyez, vraiment?

cinq, six, écrivez votre vie sur une affiche

sept, huit, neuf, bercez l'oeuf








dix, Je suis fini

Could you shut up for like 5 minutes maybe?

Today I find myself dark.  Pretty much everything out of my mouth has been cutting, abrasive, or sarcastic.  Which is actually pretty normal, except today it is not done with the usual playful spirit that makes it funny to everyone else.  I have been trying not to say anything at all, but for some reason whenever I don't want to talk everyone else is loquacious.  All I really want is solitude.  It would be heaven on Earth right now to drive out to an open field, lay a blanket down, relax, stare at the sky, and listen to the din of the universe.  It sounds like a lot, but really it's ridiculously simple. I have not had enough time alone lately and it is wearing me thin. 

This will sound odd to almost everyone, but I crave lack of human contact.  People, it's hard to be near them constantly.  Their emotions seeping onto me, the thoughts they don't know I can read off their faces- practically shouting at me.  It can really get to be too much if my mind isn't in the right place.  And for that to happen I need alone time.  It's much easier on the internet to interact with others.  With them it's only my thoughts in my head, my emotions that I feel.  I can think with untainted logic.  Whether or not that helps or hinders the conversation, I don't know.  But it feels better to me.  At least that way I'm sure I'm me. 

Some people in my RL like me this way, others not so much.  Some find it helpful that they don't have to say or do much for me to understand what they are trying to tell me.  Others hate it because they can't keep things from me.  There is no hiding and they find it annoying.  Well excuse the fuck out of me.  You really think I want to know everything that crosses your mind?  NO.  I REALLY FUCKING DON'T.   But I do, and I have to deal with it, so you might as well too, or get out of my life.  Your decision.  I've already made mine.

My cover does not belie my contents

My book cover will tell you everything about me and nothing at all.  What you think you see is not what's actually there. 

At first glance, I look young, bubbly, carefree, and reasonably attractive. 

Look closer.  You will see the scars on my skin.  Some caused by outside forces, some self-inflicted.  You will see the tragedies I hide behind a well crafted smirk.  You will hear the music of my soul etched into the coloring of my eyes, much like a record.  Blue-slow, gray-melancholy, purple-dark base notes (like bruises that never quite heal), yellow flecks-softly tinkling in the higher registers (sunlight peeking through rain clouds).

Open me and look inside.  I am nothing like my cover.  The contents look about 200 years older, and blacker than that deepest recesses of space.  I never let it out so it just stays beneath the surface.  Like liquid mercury.  Metallic and bitter, in an eternal ebb and flow.  Occasionally being drawn near to the surface but immediately pushed down.  Shine a light through my skin, you will see it all. 

I control it.  This much I have mastered.  I nearly lost it once to that Russian game that everyone talks about, but no one really wants to play.  I wish I could say I won, but truth be told the moment you decide to play, you have lost. 

The outside does not reflect the waters within, it has merely been constructed in a fashion to keep them from getting to you.

Directions

I think about it sometimes, how different my life would be if I had taken another path.  If I had moved a fraction of an inch in either direction, I would not be standing where I am now.  Sure there are things I would REALLY like to not have gone through, but if I didn't I wouldn't be anyone even resembling who I am today. 

I think about the million different ways I've been pulled, tossed, and turned in my life.  Some I saw the reason for, others just not at the time, and some I'm still waiting on an explanation for.   But I wouldn't have wanted anything different.  I truly like who I am as a person, and if I had to go through that all again I would. 

Sure there are things about me that aren't the most desirable traits.   I'm stubborn as hell.  I WILL let you know when you are being an asshole, when you need to STFU & stop complaining, & when that dress makes you look fucking huge.  I've got a temper on me like you won't believe. Mostly because you won't see it that often, I'm very emotionally controlled.  But when you hit a nerve, clear the fucking room.  It's still waters one second and raging rapids the next.  In those moments I will not refrain from saying anything on my mind, or attempt to word it in a gentle way.  You are totally fucked.  But like I said it's a VERY rare occurrance. 

But there are things about me that I think are really good.  I can tell how you're feeling & exactly what you need without you having to say a word.  I know when to shut up and when to offer advice.  I have a way of listening that lends itself to you solving your own problem without even knowing it's happening.  I am fiercely loyal to those I love and will do damn near anything for them.  I have a knack for making people laugh.  (I have no clue how or why.) 

All that said, I really do like who I am.  If I could I would track down every person who has changed me and led me along my path.  I would find them and thank them.  Even the ones who caused me grief and pain. Actually, I think I would thank those people twice.  Because they are the ones who really did a number on me, and carved my path the deepest.  I owe them the most.  *note to self, look into fruit baskets....*

So now I look at the road I'm on.  You think I would hesitate my next step, but no.  I take it with all that much more conviction.  It's life.  There are no do-overs, no rewind button.  It could be my last step and I don't want to do it half-assed.  So here I go down this ever changing path, doin a little left foot, right foot.

The shape of things to come...

Once again I find myself unable to sleep. Not an unusual occurrance, just an annoying one.  These fluffy pillows and velvety comforter are doing absolutely nothing for me at this point.  I was tired, incredibly so.  However, the minute I laid my head on the aforementioned fluffy pillow I was instantly awake.  I guess this is the price I pay for always having so much in my head.  It can be a bit difficult to turn off at times.  I have to be awake in 2 hours, and at this point I don't really see attempting sleep as something feasable.  So I just lay here, type, and listen. 

Listen and type. 

It's so quiet I swear I can hear everything going on in the world.  My neighbor is stumbling around his house getting ready for work.  It occurs to me I haven't the slightest clue what he does, I just know he gets up REALLY early to go do it.  By the time he's actually ready to leave, he will only be marginally more awake than he is now.  He'll emerge from his home freshly showered, travel coffee-mug in hand, bleary eyed as hell, and his tie on crooked.  ( I assume he fixes it before he gets to his final destination, but I really don't know.)  The faint "woosh" of an airplane overhead.  I wonder if it's coming or going.  Who on it is sad to have left wherever, and who is excited to have escaped it.  Some nocturnal creature is nibbling on the foliage beneath my window.  I can hear it rustling around, trying to get it's fill before the sun comes up.  The low, dull whir of the fan that resides in my laptop.  The staccato clicks and clacks of the keys as my fingers caress them. 

The steady tha-thump going on inside my chest.  Even.  Rhythmic.  Beautiful.  Limited and Limitless.

Maybe not being able to sleep isn't a bad thing afterall.