fault line

if things made sense, that'd be too easy wouldn't it? because it would all make sense.

I think sometimes things need to be picked up and put somewhere else for you to really see them for what they are.                    

truth is my sanctuary        

for the record, I'm not fucking stupid.                                                                                                                                  

conundrum, thy name is "friend".

I have learned that when you're questioning something, whether it is or isn't this or that, it usually is.  The fact that it gives you pause enough to question it, is telling.  And not in a good way.

So do you pretend that you don't know what you do know, and swallow the lies?  or do you confront it all knowing everyone will bleed, and very little will be salvageable?

or do you lie in wait, hoping they will come clean?


options suck.

Outstretched Hands: Resuscitation of Life

Oddly reminiscent of time long past.

Warm breezes through open windows.  Chewing tentatively on the cord to my headphones; lips flushed.  Black Rebel Motorcycle Club flowing softly in one ear, while the nightly news floats into the other; meeting in the middle with a rather pleasant overlap.  Soothing.  The clinking of ice cubes in a glass; taste of sweet tea lingering on my tongue.

flash forward

Crackling fireplace; faint snowflakes being stirred in the little gusts of wind.  A much loved friend rests her head in my lap, eyes fixed on the TV.  Hands running through thick, curly hair giving comfort; while a bare foot is nuzzled under the warm belly of a snoring St. Bernard.  Random breaks in time being asked questions I have no answers to, but say them anyway.


The feeling is the same.  Home.  Contentment.  No judgments, just love.

Don't waste time wishing it was forever, just enjoy it while it's here.  Snuggle closer, get high off the quiet.  Spout off random philosophy, and dreams of the future.  Nothing much is actually said, but nothing goes unspoken.  Don't think about how your heart will break when you have to go.  Don't, don't......just breathe.

varied realities

I am unsure about what motivates me currently.  I know in large part it is the overwhelming desire to move beyond where I am now.  At the beginning it was more a means to an end.  But now...for some ungodly reason I've commissioned upon myself this personal challenge of sorts.  See exactly how much I'm capable of.  See how far I can push myself.  Is there a breaking point?  I'd like to find out.  So far, by the grace of the divine, it has worked in my favor; with no real ill effect.  (other than the even more massive consumption of caffeine and occasionally nicotine.)  Ok, and maybe a few other bad habits...but we'll let those lie quietly in the shadows.  I am not even sure I'm typing what I think I am; am I even awake?  It feels as though the world as seen through my eyes, and then transmuted through my fingers to the screen, is often a surreal state.

I feel as though perhaps I am talking circles around myself.  I can't seem to form cohesive thoughts in my present state...

the appearance of calm

anything but, under the surface.

keep pushing, break even further, ignore the pain.

it's dark times, but I'll be my own fucking light.

and I won't be using it to shed light on the shadows you lie in.    

only as good as the culmanative effects it would have

percocet and vodka make such a lovely combination...

someone else says it better

***
I'm so tired of staring at the wall
But I know I got to put you down
And I keep trying to make sense of it all
But I can't keep going around and around


And your words float like dandelions every other way
I can't keep listening to what you say



'Cause I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
And I take everything I can
And I'll throw it out the door




And it's too late for wanting
The best thing for me now, so walk by
And you can't keep saying the same thing to me now
So walk by

Everything has a reason for it
Everyone has a story to tell
Everything has a reason for it
Everyone has a story don't they?




Running out of space, I can't see your face
I've forgotten how you used to be
Saying that you love me, that you're thinking of me
Taking my identity




and you can't say that you see me
if you don't know who i am
you can't see that you need me
and neither one of us can be found
if neither one of us can be found




And I try so had not to notice
I try so hard not to care


I try so hard not to show this side of me


***

makes more sense than anything has in a long time.

justification without rationalization

steps down a path that you know you shouldn't stray to.  actions taken resulting in what could only be described as tragically fucked up habits.  fine. fine.  I know what I'm doing.  right?

put oceans between yourself and what grounds you; what keeps you sane.  replace them with vices.  it feels wrong.  add more and more until you can't feel.  then you've done it right.


I am hurting you, I know.  it's selfish.  but still, I block your avenues to me.  you reach, I pull away.  you call to me, I turn a deaf ear.  you question, and I give silence.  but for whose benefit?

I am missed, you say.  well, I miss myself too.



in truth, it fucked me up; but I am fucking myself over daily.  I wouldn't dare let you see me now, you wouldn't recognize me.  I don't recognize me.