preguntas.

more questions. I think they help.

What would you change if you knew you were NEVER going to die?

I'd spend more time, I guess. More time on everything. I'm pretty freaked out my time. My time sensor is mangled by this thread of anxiety that seems to run through everything. I value efficiency. I can't even leave the sink on for a second without thinking about the water I'm wasting. Makes doing dishes not so fun. Can't turn on the bath without wincing at the waste of water. Can't stop at a bathroom while driving without bemoaning the effort. I'd be a happy robot I think.

Anyways. If I knew that I was never going to die, I'd just spend more time. Spend more time being in my twenties. Spend more time hanging out with friends that are as nutritious as pillow mints. Spend more time ..wasting time, even though I feel like I always am. "Wasting" time and effort growing a garden, maybe, instead of sitting in front of my computer trying to fix my resume. "Wasting" my time and effort with shoddy drawings and clunky poems, instead of trying to create a masterpiece. I'd be less afraid of failure, of mistakes, of waste. I have a long time to make my mark on the world, whereas now I feel like I'm living in an hourglass, and every second is a chunk of rock that thunks me on the head, reminding me of the lost time, lost time, lost time that's slipping by. It's like my room is talking to me: my desk is whispering 'nothing, nothing, nothing.." and the hoards of clothing in my closet mock me, 'liar, liar, liar..' and my damned bed won't stop beckoning me to rest because I'm 'lazy, lazy lazy....'. Nothing scares me more than the time that's slipping away, and I'd love to live without having to cherish it all.

Is it hard for you to get rid of things you no longer need or want?

Indubitably. I'm definitely some form of hoarder. I hate regret. I don't like the feeling of throwing something away and then later feeling.. "Damn, if I had those right now, it would be perfect." It's like I don't know what I should keep and what I shouldn't. Also, what if those things need ME later on? I think people's greatest desire is to be needed.

I also think there's a want to challenge myself. Or prove to myself that I can make something out of anything and nothing. I squirrel things away, money, food, scraps of paper that I've cut out of. I'll save food until it's completely spoilt. I could've used it before, but I thought I might need it later. I can't seem to adjust to the flow of things. I guard everything too preciously, until I crack from lack of, well, fun. It's like I'm saving up for nothing. No goals. I'll save it all up, and then, in a whirl of emotion, spend, binge, throw away. And then I'll regret it. I think avoiding regret is the best way to court it, it seems. 

How much time do you spend looking for things you can't find?

I'm curious. Too curious. I once saw a cartoon of a man who had dug a hole two inches from diamonds and had turned back, discouraged. If he had just dug just one minute more, he'd be a rich man. Regret. Fear. Words like that come up often, don't they? You just never know. 

But there is also the saying, " When one door closes, another door opens." What they don't tell you is that if you're looking for the light at the end of the tunnel, you'll miss the second door. 

Living lost

I am in a dark place. Shadowy underbelly of the world.

Purposeless. That is really where darkness truly comes from. From not knowing why to turn on the light.
I'm doing this stupid exercise in hopes that maybe I'll "learn something about myself."

Really I just need some kind of excuse to write.


Who do you envy and why?

Envy?
The contented. The brilliantly happy. The glowing. The motivated. The knowledgable. The ignorant.
Those who seem alive, and moving forward to something. Those who are calm and poised and serene. Those who are adored and loved and envied. I envy the people who are envied.

I want to be bright and brilliant and adored and sought out and achieve greatness and have a title and live cleaning the muck off me so that my light can shine.

What do you lie about?

Very much. Just about anything that makes me ashamed.. I lie about lying, because it means I have something to hide. I lie about my guilts, my past. Sometimes lie about things I used to brag about because they're not relevant anymore. I hide the parts that don't seem to fit in anymore. If people think I'm fine, I'll lie about the struggles. If people think I'm struggling, it's hard not to lie about that fact that I'm doing well. It's difficult not to assume the shape people see me in. I don't feel in control of my life anymore. I feel like a chameleon gone mad.

What do you do for fun?

Read. Draw. Make music.

but these are knee-jerk answers, almost. Like they're the things I want people to think I enjoy. I have a fun time drinking wine with people and talking and eating food. I have fun learning things about the world. about people's lives. I have fun running, feeling like I could almost fly. I have fun doing strenuous work, sometimes. I have fun sitting by a lake and watching the water pass by. I like tending to plants, projects, watching things grow. I have fun watching my dog be brilliantly fast. I have fun living in a different world, whether I get there through a book, alcohol, drugs or talking. I have fun expressing myself. I have fun succeeding.

Are you an abstainer or a moderator?

Oh-ho, definitely an abstainer. But everything in life that I've "abstained" from, I binged on. Alcohol, drugs, men, laziness, busyness, emotions. I try to moderate now, and I think it works. But the abstaining part of myself is strict with its whip.

What's the nature of your relationship to the expectations of yourself and others?

I like the exceed expectations. I like to surprise people. So when many people hold me to a higher standard (often one I've created) than I feel like I can deliver on, I bottom out and deliver nothing. However, being an underdog makes my skin itch. Makes me want to prove myself against their expectations.
Of course, this is the same, whether of me of others, but I think I'm particularly harsh on myself. I have too many expectations of myself, I think. And I think that my weak self-confidence is not of its own making, but is just a product of my natural, incredibly blown up sense of confidence. I think I'm incredibly smart, but the concrete evidence I have to prove myself on is weak. And because I can't meet my own expectations, I think that maybe I'm not smart at all, I'm a dumbass.
While you might think this may be good, it's the shattering of the world for me. It's the cracking of my perception of the world, and it drives me insane. Nothing I thought is how it is. And I'm not very willing to let go of my perception of my self. I've spent my entire life somehow thinking that I'm attractive and clever and capable, but it becomes a weak argument with no evidence.
I spend so much time looking for reason within the world because I can find none within my family or myself. But somehow I know I won't find any answers there. So what do I do?
I don't want to be average.

I'm a dream-weaver, a truth-held mind deceiver, the purist's heart-conceiver.
One mention of the world of lack and then we're all tumbling back..
Back into a tiger cage, a play that's set and staged by the "people's" sage..
and what if time runs out? Its runs, rapid, tumbles back into the spider's spout, until we're washed out of options and face
disappointedly placed needs that never do give up the chase. What a waste of our breath.

just dont really feel like writing anymore.
There's something about it, like the feeling of hiking up a hill, of "overcoming" that it seems I'm too scared? or lazy? to begin. There's just so much, a closet bursting with things that need to be organized and not enough grit to do it.

there's this part of me that wants to just shrivel up and crawl in bed with my pup and never get out and eat tomato soup and fruit snacks and watch tv.

a transmission

an indignant inquisition to a fuzzy remission of the brain..
a sharp incision to the field of vision -
a spyglass collision creating kaleidoscopic vision
on a daring mission through the woes and plains and fields and pains of a soul, struck-

by indecision.

Giving more than you can hurts your ability to give.

country girl

waking up early to milk your cow and collect chicken eggs has a totally different feeling than waking up early to drive to work, and there's something i really like about that.

I think I let companies spam me with mail so I feel busy or so I feel not so alone. But lets face it. nobody will email you.

that often, at least.

eclairs

depression is like eating an eclair with no cream inside. Some higher up power is playing games with you, and decided to suck all the marrow out of the bone, leaving with you just an empty shell of something that could have been, and is supposed to, be delicious. Biting into a hollow husk of dry bread and bittersweet chocolate with no cream to smooth over those rough edges. It's meaningless. It's not what it is anymore. Then what are you?

surrender

lost, confused, alone
the soul drinks in slumbers from muddy waters
foggy emotions and clouded mind
a life lived with no memory left behind
why is freedom a state that must be lived alone?
another white carnation in a military zone

ugh

My indecision is ridden
with the derision that is hidden
within visions of grandeur,
an innocent by-stander
crowned king, just to ring in
the many poison stings
that cover the throne that he sits in.

and while there are many terrors in the dark,
none so despised or deadly as my heart,
and while we feared the monsters that had creeped under our beds,
age has come to see that, rather,
they all live in your head.

We all contemplate the intentions
and inflections of the galaxy of this dimension:
the reason of breath as we search for a direction to run.

though my lines are too tight,
you should understand, that in lack of flight, comes contraction-
mere distraction from the importance of for what we fight: satisfaction.

storms

I'm going about this all wrong.

Strange as it seems - I can't write for you. No rhyme, no meter can contain that irrepressible beat of yours, nor your wry smile nor your quick wit. There is a part of me that yearns to capture you in the light, but I see that it is not to be. When I think of you, my mind can only bring up darkness, in shades of creeping greys and translucent blacks. If you were anything, you'd be Thunder.. lying in meditative repose until     CRACK! 

and then you're off again, chuckling on the wind, searching, drifting to unleash that soft-spoken but hard-hitting wisdom of yours on willing victims, but also, often, on unsuspecting passerbys, who shake their heads in confusion of the exploding knowledge.

I can't spin songs for you, dear. 

But I'm heartened to know you're only a wag and a bark away,

the loveable Stray.

engineers

the instrument is rusty,
the mechanics dusty from neglect,
for reasons that intersect and twist to define
a line for a lack of rhyme - a knee jerk response
that echoes in its lack of want.
Don't stop your wailing yet, child,
You're not done failing yet, child,
there is much to be awed, to be learned
and while you sit seen, unheard,
you listen to the sound of life whoosh -ing past,
as you dive into a life that would never last.

boggarts

destroying your enemies is normal. natural, even. why wouldn't you wipe out your antagonizers? smacking the toothy grins out of their dull, meaty faces that thud with a thick hollowness.

but what if..

                  what if Cruelty had a different face? What if it could take on any shape or form? What if it could be anybody, from the President to your next-door neighbor?

what if it looked like your mother?
what if it looked like your father?

and what if it looked like you?


They knew. They knew that our greatest weaknesses lied not in avarice or in tangibility - they knew our greatest weakness sprung from mental twining of logic and faith. There was a gap in all of us; the connection between the physical body and the intellectual brain was gathered in the effervescence of our spiritual flames, that which burned and flickered in both staunch protection and coquettish passion of the heart.
And within those flames, warmed faces spring alight, and Their greatest weapon was to be able to take on the forms of those faces.


So what if your killer took on the face of your brother? Your lover? And it was you or them. You or warm blood splattering your hands as you thrust the blade past the crunch of your lover's bones, reading the beautiful anguish of their face, twisted up into a pained expression like a crumpled flower that you crushed into your palm with rigid reluctance. Rigid reluctance!




The wild howl of survival calls.

phoenix

You are about to experience a rebirth -- about to be given another chance, a new lease on life.
You have persevered, gone the distance through an entire cycle -- through the Spring of hope or new passion, through a Summer of growth and building, only to be sacrificed like the archetypal Harvest King at the Autumn reaping.
You lie dormant like seed beneath Winter snows now, healing and absorbing new energies in preparation for the new young Spring coming shortly to your life

Hexagram 24 Fu - Return

i(t)ching to know

The showdown comes, with the opponents too evenly matched.
Just as all hopes of survival are dashed, three strangers appear.
They will tip the scales in favor of the contender who recognizes them for what they are.

Taking your post in the sand, ceaselessly watching the far shore for enemy movements, you must endure the taunts and contempt of your comrades.
Good fortune in the end.

No trouble in sight, but vague anxieties about what lies beyond the horizon.
Whether real or not, the threat has already won your peace of mind.

morning drives

I woke up missing you,
my body insisting
that you be here beside me

My ears were ringing with the whispers
leaving me as a drifter
in the wind
trying to catch the wisps
of your laugh upon the drafts
until I fell upon a patch
of earth as dry and warm
as your embrace during a storm of me.

The morning smelled like long drives
and so, filled me with long sighs
of what it would be like
to drive away
with you.

Turtles

Feeling used and abused, and genuinely insane..
Am I too straightforward to live this world?  There are so many masks and illusions, and while, yes I did wear my mask to hide fear, I never realized that sometimes, I WAS a mask.

You heartless goons, depravity scum, why.. Am I a shell to be put on for your pleasure?

timid

Don't talk with me, if you ain't gonna walk with me,
because I'm on the move and looking to improve,
and if you live the way you should, that's good!
that's great, but I wanna grow at a fast-paced rate,
if you looking for a date, I ain't your mate.

Don't talk the fluff if you haven't done enough,
I'm a being of action, no more words
can scourge the deck of neglect
so jump that plank
and thank
the gods for an ocean
to be drunk.

trancestates

as an aside,

the trance state feels as though I am in a sensory deprivation chamber. I can't feel my limbs, just my mind. My body feels leaden. To move requires incredible effort, and I feel that if I were to force motion before reeling in my mind, that something would be snapped, broken. Like I kite, I must bring myself back into my body, melding so that I may be whole again. 

waiting games

Another meditation. When I begin to descend into trance-like states, my eyes begin to flutter from the vibrations in my brain.
I find it easier and easier to ground myself.
Today I visualized my "answer box". I walked a sandy path to a round stone tower, a wooden door ajar. I entered, and beheld a great long table, at the head of which was a brown wooden box with a bear mouth clasp. I picked up the quill and wrote upon a parchment, "Where do I go from here? What job will I take? " and outlined in my head the specifics, a job in music with people I enjoy and good pay (since money comes to me easily in all ways). I will state that I am unconcerned with my life craft, I am already working on that! I just wanted to know how I should steer my life so that the ins and outs of my mind are parallel.
So I folded up the parchment, 1, 2 and roll, and placed it in the bear mouth box and clasped the lock. After several seconds, I retrieved the parchment from the box and unrolled it, and unfolded it once. I did not read the parchment. I felt like I already knew what it would say.
Carrying the paper, I walked back out, out the door, down the sandy path and brought myself back to the present. I envisioned myself, at my desk, the energy in my hands, circulating, and unfolded the paper. One word was written upon the paper,

wait

and then I understood

it is coming.

the bear

I had the pleasure of meeting a mighty bear. I walked to a temple, I knew I was going to meet someone there. I happened upon the illusion of a great golden gate, heavy and tall, difficult to open. I cleared it from my mind and saw the truth- I passed through a worn, wooden gate. I continued upon a path of sunshine through the turquoise sky, passing by a puddle of ducks, fields of orange flowers, until my path was flanked by great big stones on either side, providing cooling shade. At the end of my road, there was a cave. I knocked upon the wooden door, and was greeted inside. At the end of my vision, I saw a golden altar. For who, I don't know. I thought I saw Shiva there. There were great stained glass windows throwing color into the dark, cool cave. I felt safe. I looked out the back window and saw the sun-lit fields. There was a table before the altar. From a hallway beyond, appeared a bear. A big Grizzly bear on its hind-legs. It took my hand and assuaged me with forms of a cold-handed woman, and my love dressed in flowing gold. Then he bid me sit down at the table and he sat facing me. I was honored with a gift of jade in my hands. When I looked up, my love sat there and told me that he would always guard me, that I could rely on him, that he would strengthen me. He took me and cradled me in his arms, and stroked my head. I kissed him, and he, clad in gold, walked me to the door. As I walked out, I again saw its true form, as a bear, and as I walked along the path back past the shrubs, down the hill and past the gate, I looked back one more time, and saw a grizzly bear, on all fours, watching me as I left. I continued down the path and as I felt myself lift back to reality, I floated upwards, my skin molting off as I transformed into a flaming phoenix, bathed in golden sun.

i want to feel something again. something extreme!
more like - i want to feel extremely happy and satisfied and free and all that shit.

Not really sure how I feel anymore. I feel like nothing.

ns

I know I should probably get started on my own, right? I'm waiting around for people.. do I have magic in my fingers?
Never satisfied..

If I'm not enough for myself, who will I be enough for? Can't have fun anymore.
Loosen up.. relax..
Why is it so difficult?

It's been so hard to sing.
Doubt and uncertainty reign
and fill me with disdain
for the art of my design


fuck, i dont even know anymore. fuck.

luxe

in a world of chaos, discipline is the most difficult, is it not? our desires to fit in the lines, inscribed in the times to be relevant to the present
an activist to combat the sedentary lifestyle, mock up of a graceless tasteless luxor's wife-style.

strains

I don't know what you are
but I know what you want
I hear you scratching at my door
What's the point..

I've never seen your face
I've never even cared
I've never opened the door
just a peek to your stare

Go away, go away, go away
I can't, I won't, I don't
In a world that's lacking honesty
I'm loathe to say I'm scared

Go away I'm afraid, I'm afraid
Being infected by something
That might take me nowhere
Are you even there?
Or am I dreaming it

Walls

When the desire for succes and significance overpowers the fulfillment of creative freedom, one is barred by the gates that no longer lock others out, but instead lock one into a quarantine of fear and confusion.

busybee

I feel like I have this constant desire to be doing something. Or doing anything, really.
Which is really odd because the things I occupy my time with are..not that important. Small tasks. Is this procrastination?
Is this fear?

Fuck, on a side note, I'm so stunned and repulsed and filled with deep nausea, having just watched this week's episode of Game of Thrones.
I can't, I just can't. Can't. Can't live after this wow.

Driving

I don't know what I was that thinking. Looking back, it should have been plainly obvious what kind of person he was. One who was past the age of school but still hung out there with younger, school-aged kids.

This is literally the first time I've thought of this. What the hell. It's not that anything is technically "wrong" with that, to each his own, but his philosophies of "moving on" and "letting go" should have sort of been apparent.

If I've learned anything from driving in traffic, it is that what matters is not where you are, but the rate at which you are moving. Basically, its not how far you've gone, but how fast you're going.
Moving is life, growing is life, changing is life.

On a side note, I actually just woke up from a dream where I was arguing with my mom about the "C" which represents change, on my tattoo. She seemed to think I would regret it. Huh.. Something to think about?

And also I was making some chicken salad. Which ended up being a pizza (idk how that happened..)

at the end of wit

what the fuck
I don't understand
I can't find help anywhere.
I can't talk to my boyfriend because i don't want to hurt his feelings
I can't talk to my friends because they're busy with their lives
and plus they all think i have it all together, whatever that means
I can't TALK TO PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET -via 7 cups of tea. Tried this... online emotional support thing. Its supposed to hook you up with "active listeners". People who just listen to you, because thats all it seems like I need right now.
so again---
I can't  TALK TO PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET- because they ask me out on dates?? What the fuck just happened?? So fucking random. Not helpful. Not emotionally supportive. No I don't want to Skype you.

What the hell. Who can I talk to without 1. worming my way their schedules. 2. feeling that they don't understand.  I just want help. advice. and I don't know about therapy because want to pay somebody to listen to me. shit.


Because pretty eyes don't make the world look pretty
and good looks dont' make the world look good
when the things inside are the color of pity
nothing is as wonderful as they should

shit.

huge, huge headache. full of lots of things to remember and tell, but no outlet, no outlet.

I literally talk to nobody through my days. Sort of nursing a killer migraine right now.

Don't even want to write about anything. I don't know what to say. Inner raging, a little.

fuckit.

ravings

It's a funny thing,
it's a funny thing,
you and me, we ring
fourteen inches thin
from a heaven-laden sin
smoothing golden-slumbered skins
into many-headed stings of a jealous rage,
a scribbled page, a crumpled stage of all that lies within.

The mind rambles in sleep,
a fogged inner sheep wrapped in wolves' handsome fleece
born to ravage and beat
meaning win,
a conversion to spin
 from a wife to a cheat
from a roar to a bleat.

"Girly"

I think my idea of what makes one "girly" is a bit deviant from the social norm.

It is believed that one is "girly" if they are interested in fashion, makeup, rom-coms etc. -- as though being girly is a matter of, well, subject matter. I disagree. I think it's a combination of characteristics that people are really  trying to point a finger too.

Having worked in fashion and such, I don't believe an interest in your everyday appearance makes one gender-influenced, rather, it signifies a healthy interest in the expression of oneself. In fact, I think the clothes you wear paint a wonderful picture of who you are, whether you are a confident trend-setter, a lamb-like trend-follower or avant-garde individual.

I'd think that what people are saying is "girly" is another set of personality traits in general, an unhealthy interest in other people's affairs, pointedly catty, overbearingly emotional (which isn't necessarily a bad thing), flippant, self-involved,
You know, maybe I'm just talking about not-that-great people in general. Maybe this has nothing to do with being "girly". I suppose I just dislike the negative implications of the word.

drinking holes.

just a touch, just a rush of emotion
insane devotion to what we believe
is a notion of love
made by the man upstairs
his name, your name
his stare, your stare
who are you now? what can you be?
mere mortal or my petty whim?

and we hesitate..in the spaces we create
just a moment that stagnates and throws the weight
making us shift anxiously from foot to foot
hoping for something that will placate our restless soul

the clink like a warning toll. a drowning hole.

BB-bd

I know you're there.
I know you're watching.
Every picture, every message, every search, every click.
We're all locked onto this grid of connection, the network, they say..
It's like living in an apartment complex, its your complex, and so you think it gives you the right to inspect all our rooms. Does it?
I know you're watching.
I know you're there.

So who do you see me as? Who do you think I am? Have the whole picture yet? I still can't let go of pen and paper, so what you see is just..

second nature..

don't bring it out of her

feeling really tired and really old. feeling old. feeling worn.

I don't need it, I don't need it. need any of it

I seem to have a craving for things I don't need. There's greed in there, the belief in a whole that will never be filled, well it will never be filled- it's already full.

I don't want it, I don't want it. Nothing gained, just lost lost lost.

actually alone. haha

sleeping without vader today. it feels weird. i feel weird. ugh. haha is it odd for this to be making me feel a little sad?

can't put your finger on me (don't put your fingers on me)

anxious creep through my mind
a tiger beat upon my chest
and make me sleep, slip, dream
of the terrors unseen in the night-time
traveling through empty space,
the fullest nothing to grace us with hearts misplaced
I was quite sure if we had only agreed
that you would have seen
that I'm much more and much less than what you comprehend

You put a finger on me and you'll regret it
I'll throw you off boy, I'm impossible
let it all out boy, I don't dread it, I'm unstoppable, I'm unstoppable
I know you want to let go but about me, there's still something so....

Just can't put your finger on me,
so don't put your fingers on me


Must be delusional, you think I'm this crazy mastermind
No means its not okay, and fine means that I'm really fine.
Fuck you and your philosophy,
Oh my alleged "atrocities"
Oh if you'd have been where I have been
You would understand
that I'm much more and much less than what you've seen

and happy 420! hahaha

I'm trying hard to reaching out for a rainbow
I'm made of star -
But didn't have any love shown
I'm trying hard
I work my skin to the bone
It's just a start, won't let the pain never show
Although I can't keep up
I can't keep up
I CAN'T KEEP UP



I'm trying hard to work my way through the system
I'm made of star -
But found that no one was listening!
I'm driving on 'till the break of dawn
I refuse to fall.
I'm driving on 'till the break of dawn
I REFUSE TO FALL

'Cause I can't keep up
I can't keep up
I CAN'T KEEP UP
Someone never showed me love,
Won't somebody give a fuck?
Because I can't keep up
I can't keep up
I CAN'T KEEP UP
Someone never showed me love,
Won't somebody give a fuck?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FCX6WBIzfQ8

I am sitting..

in the dark, by glow of my computer. vibing to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKW2gmAl964
(song title, figures, huh? ha)
as I have been all weekendddd and drinking and smoking in my room. in complete darkness... and for the first time in a while, I feel fucking alive...

stew

stewing right now. wishing I could be somewhere that I currently am not.

Have I been so anti-festival because I'm worried of Sophia? Worried of who I could be?


Burning though.. simmering.. I want to be free be free, let loose, quit being so preoccupied with my own self and socialize, jesus.


There's a thin underlying line of nasty sabotage resting there, wounded animal anger. Upset and snappy. Of course, I'm doing a wonderful job of assuaging, I'd say. Its deadened with love haha, but its there.

I need to keep running, running.. I feel like I can't talk to anyone about it, either. Nobody was there with us, experienced the thrills and chills, We were Golden in our age. All of us. I don't know many other people like that, that need to let those animals loose every once and a while. Like let the fuck loose. We were all a cohesive team too, fuck. Idk. Now I have to go about it differently. Feels different. Everyone different. No line to tug me back to reality. I could go wandering off if even you're not there.

I still want those times where people pull me back in... I want to feel that lack of responsibility again, I guess.
FUCK!

I'm angry and a little unhappy. fuck.

coachandcarriage

Can feel the feelings rise up like balloons, burst
out of my chest
There's a rupture in my heart that's giving me unrest
I'm missing sink or swimming
I'm missing lose or winning
Survival instincts would serve me best, here

I feel the dusty heat,
a drum step on repeat
as suns are downed and spirits risen
I'd do anything now to bust this prison

I've been longing for the desert sand,
your dark hand in my hand
give me a choice of neon lights or sun
why've we got to pick only one?

feeling..

feeling really alone. I don't know if I miss people or if its really just withdrawals of music and ecstasy. the dancing around and feeling good.. I don't know if I miss people or if I miss myself around people. I miss dancing. Dancing like that brings out this carnal in me, a queen, the seductive, tempting alter ego ...

just went through a couple minutes ruminating about names. There's three names floating around me. Sophia, Jade, Maj.
Sophia is Yin, I think. The dark glowing girl. Dusky light. She's the seductress hahaha. Captivating. All eyes on her. Sophy when I wan't to be extra naughty. I've been struggling with different auras, different energies, and tied to this name, I grew up with strong animal magnetism, incredible luck and as an emotionally passionate person. Hard to progress though, strong-willed, and can be too blunt or insistent.
Then Jade. a little more business-like I think. She's the quiet one. The reader, with the logic, the struggles, the complications, the discipline. Yang in a more muted way. She's the rough edges of pages in books and rain on a rooftop.. Plainly shining. Simple pleasures. She's much more the hippie. Like a little daisy.
And Maj. Sometimes I picture her as a British Punk-Rock queen with a pink shaggy pixie cut. She's rough but she sparkles and shines like broken glass in the light. She loves music with that pumped-up, jumping-up-and-down beat, and she's angry, oh, can she can get angry. The tough mask, the up front, the face girl. Oh she's the "nurture" girl, the structure built from the culmination of childhood experiences and teen stumbles rolled pell-mell into both Jade's fears and Sophia's stubbornness to make who you know.


I got off onto this tangent that started in semi-misery. It's nice to know I can distract myself. I'd LOVE to be dancing, because I miss dancing, and I think I miss being around all kind of people in general. My faces are getting dusty. Time to get back out there.


Rule&Shine

nochella

another year, another world, is this fullness the transitorE and who is Lucy?
I can't see for shame, another tidal wave of whiskey to blame all the pain on
I felt so full of life at one point, a joint that's meant to be shared
and me, myself and I, we round out like the numbers of pi,
and buzzin alone ain't the same when you're the only one in the hive.
Taste sweet like honey and strong as sin
the words I use to pull me into drinking gin to top the holes that fill me in.

Lazy. No work tonight.

The night is too young, for things to be done,
She is sweet and fair and in her embrace you slip, you tip
The scales of work and play,
In her cool, breezy arms, you'll stay..

offerings.

incendiary incense that lights fires for the spark of consequence
a monk says to me, you plead but don't cherish
the reality is not to grin and bear, but to bare it to the gods,
the offering of raw and ripe, the reasons for loss and strife
that fill the air with flames, incensed.

womans. drinks.

loquacious lips seduce men struggling for meanings
to send them reeling into carnal delight
despite what they believe is wrong from right

however, a lovely knows
to be kept on her toes
she must be spun by a rugged son of Sun
a guiding light
a firm grasp tight on her skin,

she'll know by his calloused hand
that he is a man..

rotting in silence..

an unrest in my chest as I wait for the word, unheard, unbidden,
he's hidden behind a screen of pleasantry and I can't find him ..

of the tops

Trying to keep everything together 

is putting me under the weather

my mind floats as a feather

in the ether, untethered to realities of foggy X-ed treasures

on a fast food napkin map

you wipe like Donalds ass is a honey trap for Beyhives

you substandard lowlives, you attract flies

as your mouths spout gossip shit,

a sewage brick that needs a million dollar plumber to come and unclog it.

I don't know what I'm sayin, I'm just prayin that you stay with me and understand that my right hand man is my hand, I'm just trying to get by somehow and stay myself and I...

woohoooo.

I am deluged with floods of nothing at all
a noisy brawl in a empty hall
my brain is full of shit, unwrit
but pencil and paper can't seem to hold all of it

I fall, deluded, unrooted to shame
"this bitch has gone mad!" they hiss and complain,
and I ask, "shall I deign to do the mundane?
the pain through which to moneybag my fame?"
and they boo at my corporate straight-lacey ways
I think they'd rather see stumbling through a chemical-haze.

But don't worry, I've been there, I've seen it, I 've done that.
I ain't no straight A, I'm straight C, can you cup that?

majwords

shall I deign to do the mundane? the pain through which to gain fame..


am i insane?

I'm not making music for me, im making music for you
do you think people give a shit about all the drugs you do, you fool
Why don't people realize its not a reflection, but a message
We fill the minds of the generation
their veneration fills our occupations
we mold them with our inflections

and that puts so much pressure on me
I feel like i don't have the substance to make a living
from this musical seed thats sprouting into trees
so we can play musical chairs with the radio stations

3 drinks in...

Iiiii don't know what to write about, what is there to write about

If anything, time moves so quickly! Just a moment ago I was young as hell and you were young as hell and we were so young, and now look at us.. where's the fucking fun


irritation abounds! I wonder what it means hmmm.

sigh.

balance is so fucking difficult.
Seriously, back to the life of hermitude it is.
Gotta just keep my fucking head down and work because I'm getting distracted.


speaking of distracted, spend the last hour or so reading up on US vs Canadian health care.
I think the biggest issue is that Americans are generally distrustful of their government. Many  people just don't want the government mixing in their health care system. Which is not an unfounded fear, I'd say. But a single-payer system, this so-called "socialism" is bunching the knickers of so many Americans because of the capitalist philosophy we've been built off of. A gaggle of martyrs, us Americans, dying for our freedom- the freedom we can't enjoy because well, the uninsured lot of us are dead.

transitions and sucking it up.

irritation abounds. Somehow fell off the fucken train track and gotta bust my ass to be on it again.

I also don't like waiting. Or I suppose I'm just impatient today.. The past week has got me in all sorts of funks. Looking back like that makes me... prickly, for lack of better words. Makes me a little unhappy, uncomfortable, short-tempered. Don't like lingering, don't like the burn, don't like the pain.

Forward march.

Looking back..

It is funny how much can change in such little time, the sway of the minutes to the sway of the mind..
High to low, fast to slow. A couple days ago, I was so motivated.. Well I suppose I still am now. Just rekindling.. fire swept out.




It's awesome to feel woozy in the sun. I don't think I like it as much during the night. In the night you have to make lights, and in the day, they're already there, dancing.

to you.

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. 

Pablo Neruda

motivationals.

trying to go a day without posting on here really nags at my mind, and that's great! Means I know what I should be doing, I just need to do it!


Been very motivated today. Listening to audio books, getting in tune with my body, practicing my music, catching up with friends.
Feeling like such a fulfilling day.
And its wonderful to be able to be translating my thoughts into writing.

You know, some days are better than others, its all aspects. I'll have lazy days of intense songwriting, and busy days of physical body work - the book I'm reading is right. Self-perception is a zoo.

I ain't no wanderer anymore. You go girl.

feeling very...

loquacious, tenacious to the braces that will break us one day, no leaning on the crutch of sinners, vices make it so you never get to play..

Crickets are always so loud..


have been harboring insecurity today. body image, talent, allover human value.
facebook is a shithole, I've been thinking. Or I'm just a little buzzed and aggravated. Or both!
Can't even mind my own business if I want to.

themes: "I can't control what happens to me, but I can control what I do about it"

I can't control the thoughts and actions and questions of other people. Can only control mine.

What is control, really?
From my experiences as a child, and so on, I've seen control as nothing more than fear, the contraction of loss. The only solution I've found is to act directly opposite to the fear. I'm afraid of someone leaving me, so I'll show them how much I love them-sort of thing. It's still a working process. I ain't perfect yet.
At one point, you end up just standing there, watching your fears come into play, and you're so paralyzed and horrified by what's happening around you that, well, you just stand there. Fight or flight, sort of thing. Taking no action is an action.

I've spent my entire life like that. Full of passion, yet so full of fear, my life has been a constantly disharmonious melody pulling back and pushing forth - stillness in the motion, whirling through the quiet... I'ts delayed reaction, is what it is. The times you need to act, you retreat into your cloudy mind, and when you need to slow down, you run rampant.

I also have this fear that I poison people... my "craziness", does it affect other people? Do I see it because I bring it out of them, or because I create it in them, or are we all really like that? My flip-flopping, my indecision - does it permeate into the stability of others?

I can't answer anything. I guess the bright-side could be that.. maybe I have more material to work with?
Life is cold.

fuck the haters, see you later

Success is the best revenge. Regret is the best injury.

I ain't out for no revenge though. I don't do that shit. 

Just gives me a little more motivation for the success. Fuck the haters, see you later, sort of thing. haha.

I'm out there to be ME, but in the process, if I break the hearts and blow the minds of people who don't believe in me, well, I can't save you, sorry.

Once someone asked me what was more important, my own personal development, or my relationship with them. I had given a noncommittal answer for the sake of not hurting their feelings. But I know, and at the time, with my heart knew that NOBODY like that will stand in the way of me and my success. Nothing is more important than the fulfillment of my heart, because if I'm not happy, you sure as hell won't be, I'll guarantee it. My personal development is all I have, so fuck off and focus on your own crumbling life. All of yous. Seriously. 

It's not my job to make you regret, you're not even worth an ounce of my energy. But I can't say I won't be the tiniest bit gleeful when it comes to it. 

"ideally"

Ventures

I'm just going to have to find my own thing. Helping people really doesn't seem to be working as well as I'd like because I just take things and run. I guess I just want to be moving, to be going. So lets start something. Something of my own. What though?

Business business business. I love it. I love plans, I really do, and now I've reached this point where I love to execute them as well. More ideas then! More ideas to grow and raise like little children.

verbose.

It's a wonder I actually write about something every day. Just a good way for me to keep the brain flowing correctly.

My confidence levels are rising - it's high tide. I can tell because I can say "Good Morning" to people in the mornings. I can tell because I'm not scared to look directly into the camera anymore. I can tell because I'm deciding my life, working, living, breathing with intention. I have a purpose now. Shaky at best, but I have a dream, I have a plan. I'm a musician. I'm a model. I'm an artist! I'm a writer. I'm a dancer. I am so many things, and all these things make me wonderful and all these things make me happy, and happiness, my friend is the great key to success.

So is focus, and not doing so well with that one right now to be honest haha.


I love the light right now. The soft golden glow of my lamp, making the ridges of the water bottle in my upper left sight glimmer and glisten, along with the glass cup on my left, transparency giving away the dancing water that shivers and shakes from my typing fingers. The water distorts the word "Saturday 01" underneath, the first of this month, the calendar that beds an ocean blue leather journal, etchings of dreams with its silk, cream tongue resting between its pages. The wind is thrattling (thrashing/rattling) the house with mournful moans of change, hissing through the trees and shakes the uncertain garage door - things are coming, good or bad, I cannot say, but change is upon us, change is upon us.
Indeed, as pens strewn across the notepad beside me, cap at, "bullet point: jobs / 1. Need..." and point staring blankly into lined space, lost in the to-do's and reluctant importance of reality.

What is change, and who am I? Or are those questions have the same answer? Can one ever tell?
Well I can tell that it's time for a nap. Uncharacteristically sleepy nowadays.

divine creator of facial hair

Lord, let me achieve my dreams. If you existed anyways, in my head. The term Universe is a bit cold, isn't it? Of course everybody wants a friendly bearded sky hobo to hug them and tell them he loves them. Why are beards so subconsciously comforting? I feel like we should be scared of them. Beards are webs of a flavorful past and unruly future. Wiry, scratchy things. I much prefer moustaches.

scared myself for a second there. Blogger is telling me moustache(s) is spelled incorrectly and I actually had to go check, so full of doubt. Great, another english major that can't spell moustache haha. See there is goes again! Dotted red line of doom.

Feel like I should probably stop identifying myself as an English Major. Not that there's anything wrong with that, just.. its not me anymore. I'm not in college, fuck majors, I'm the boss of the Minors. obviously.



getting real sleepy...

distraction and contractions to fortunes and fame

A little distracted. So many things to do, and so much time..
I need to use my time more wisely. Its okay, now that HOUSE OF CARDS IS OVER.
What a momentous season. I feel no regret spending my time watching witty and fascinating tv shows. But can't say I'm not glad it's over.. more hours in the day to do things.. haha.

All that ever runs through my head are thoughts, thoughts, thoughts on what I need to do but its all a jumble. Need a vision.

Saw Matthew McConaughey's (I had to look up the spelling for his last name, wow.) Oscar speech. Said when he was 15, somebody asked him who his hero was. After consideration, he said, "Himself in 10 years." Age 25. And When he was 25, it was him at 35.. and so on and so forth. Always chasing the forever unattainable, himself. There is always more.. but always at your own standard. What a great answer.

I like even numbers, right? Even when turning up the volume in my car it always has to be at a 0 or a 5. 15, 20, 25, 30.. I don't do in-between numbers. Well it's my lucky year. I'm 20... lets make a plan for 25. Who will I be then? What will I have accomplished? Where will I be?

strip clubs.

just thinking-- there is a place where men can go pay bitches to shake their tits in YOUR FACE. What is the equivalent of a tittybar for women? (this is an assumingly non-single conversation) A cockbar? To be completely honest, no matter how sexed up I am, I doubt I'd ever want a guy to be shaking his dick in my face, but for the sake of equality.
Yes, there are male strippers, but I'd say the excitement comes from the ludicrously hilarious image of a real-live functioning male who moonlights in nothing but a bowtie and a scandalously tiger printed manthong. I don't find it particularly scintillating, really.

A man's fun comes from caging a cat, and I'd say a woman's fun comes from prowling. But boundaries? Oh man, boobs and hips get you into all sorts of trouble. So what'll it be? What can it be?

Man goes to strip club, can woman just go to a club? Man gets girl to give him a lap dance, can a woman have another guy dance with her? Or is it okay because he's paying the girl? Fuck that, women don't need to spend a cent!

Time to go out soon.
I'd better find me some girlfriends stat then. hahahaha goodnight.

to best friends. an ode to my pup.

He was my lover and my friend. A constant companion, an ear to listen and a mouth to kiss. Sometimes he was the reason to wake up in the morning, a motivation to live and to learn continuously. He was the warm body next to me during cold nights, a tangle of limbs and yawns. One had never stared into such soulful eyes.. with their, almost melancholy depths that told you, "I love you", "Please?", "It'll be alright."

Sometimes there is nothing like the comfort of another soul curled up in your lap. A determination to be at your side, no matter the lengths. A need to better me to better him.

He'll hold my hand during long walks in the morning, dashing back as the first drops of rain begin to thicken. Stretching with me in the mornings as we say hello to the early sun. Radiating joy as I turn my face to him as a flower to the light, melting and strengthening my might. There is nothing as beautiful as sleep, with little fluttering breaths and a rosy pink tongue that peeks out between pearls.

But nobody has experienced such longing, for what, I still cannot fathom. I see sadness, or is it mine? Have our feelings come to be intertwined? Perhaps when I come to understand myself, I will see the truth in yours. A child of limitless affection and teacher of unconditional love. All I can do is thank you, thank you, thank you.

beginning and endings

struggling with feelings of frustration today, colored with bits of inadequacy and flashes of anger.

Craving discipline and structure, but I don't know how to get it. I know things are just in my reach, but is it laziness? Lack of motivation? Ebbing willpower?

A stubbornness in forgoing sacrifice?

And while struggling with these feelings of doing nothing, its not as though I am doing anything enjoyable either. I can't relax, being on the internet only heightens my disgusted feelings in myself, nothing on the television is worth watching. I can't even sleep.

Perhaps my feelings of procrastination, ie. my fear of unsurmountable work, is so strong that trying to get in between the hairline crack between the fuel and brake is almost like trying to walk an invisible line.

Going from doing nothing at all to trying to be doing something at all times is so difficult right now.

I'm trying to be my own coach, but I have no idea how to reward myself for doing anything. I need to be more decisive and clear cut but I don't know how to be healthy about making myself do things.

don't know where to start. or even, where anything ends.

why Claire Underwood is my role model

If you've been watching House of Cards, you, possibly like me, have been fawning over the relationship between protagonist (and Veep) Frank Underwood and his wife Claire.

Just read a few articles with the title: Claire Underwood is not  a role model, which delineate her questionable morality and "crimes against women."
But its a fucken TV show, no? I consider her a role model for her upstanding professionalism, ruthlessness and ability to do work! I love her, she's great.

A woman who knows what she wants, gets what she wants.

rainday1

rainy morning, makes me lazy, haha. I'd like nothing more to sit in clouds and listen to the rain and eat donuts or something. and soup.

the spackle of rain that contains the stain of energy gains, infecting the plain that craves its weather vein to bring end to the drought, bring back life, kill the doubts,
but our tainted gift, it causes rifts in natural routes.

A little frustrating, I wake up to such noise. I would like a little silence. Just the wind in the trees, a musical breeze.

unionize me

The best union is a partnership. Communication, trust, honesty, loyalty is key. Sounds like a cliche to me.

But its true. I just talked about it with Jems today, to be honest. And just saw it in House of Cards actually, haha. Its about running with somebody alongside you. No stopping or waiting. Its all, "You go ahead, I'll catch up with you," and "I'm going to go, catch up with me." Wherever we go, its the same destination. You want to be with someone? Learn to be with yourself first. There's no way you can advertise if you don't understand what you're selling. 

I'm not going to lie, there are things I still don't understand. But I'm learning along the way. And having another person's honest eyes is always helpful. Don't distort their vision with yours. You're both looking at the same thing.

first base.

Been writing up a storm today. Just writing rhymes to pass the time haha.

Got to see Jems today. Seeing her is always a good evaluation point. Questions, less about where I want to be, and more on the foundation of where I am. Of where I started from. The natural base root of it all.

I've written so much today, I'm gonna call it a night, actually. House of Cards time. heheh.

new. peuwpeuwpeuw. gotcha.

It's really hot. I'm at work and I'd like to go home right now. Spend the day writing rhymes.
Had two dreams about car crashes last night. The first one was me, and I woke up at 5 in the morning. The other one was about some other girl.
Freaky. I'm naturally anxious about driving at this point.  Or always have been, that's why I got my license so late.

Been having a bit of a sore throat lately. I'd say its from recovering from the weekend, but I know better. Spent Friday night unable to say what I needed to and my body is showing that. If I don't speak my truths, then I might as well not have a voice. Kept energy packed in there and now its hurting. It's alright I learned my lesson.

Could never understand what people wanted me to do when they ask me to focus. Feels like things elude my grasp and squirm off like slippery eels the harder I concentrate on them. There's nothing more to focus on than what is. Realize now they just needed me to be mindful. Or even more careful. But it's not focus, I swear.

Sometimes when you're writing, you don't even know what anything is anymore, or what you're even writing about. Sometimes you write and fill in the meaning later, like a coloring book.

Was telling Jonathan the other day that sometimes when things are all you know, you take it for granted. Talents, appearances, life situations. Realize all people want is new new new. Doesn't matter how it is, doesn't matter what it is. As long as they've never seen it before, they'll have some sort of liking to it.
Course there are those who only stick to what they're used to, but even they need to realize that every fucking day is new, so they need to get the hell over it.

goosebumps;chickenskin

Eunff. Who is the harsh critic in my mind? Can't seem to read my own writing without shaking off the burning fingers of silent dread running through my spine.  I feel like a ghoul sliding his slimy snake of a tongue over his own jagged, crusty teeth and shivering in delight with the gleeful horror of disgust. Analogous to the mind-numbing curd-y feeling of chalk squealing in between your fingernails as you torturously  claw a vile verdant chalkboard. Ugh.

My own writing seems so ...caricature-ish. I'm missing that silver tongued touch that seems to appear only in the light of the moon. Too much sunshine in my words, too much pep, too much shallow happiness.

Time for some revisions.

As above, so below

Been doing a lot of reading recently. On random things... one subject is the Deep Web. Coming about the brain via House of Cards (love that show.)
Made me think about secrets and the jealous guarding of them.

As a being ever striving towards light, I told Jonathan yesterday that secrets were so carefully fortified because it breaks belief systems and destroys people's whole perceptions of the world. But if one is not bound to any societal code, belief, or does not identify with any social community built off the thoughts of man, are these secrets valuable? Are these secrets worth anything? Personally I don't want any part of them or really care. I perhaps value them for their intellectual content, for the pure thrill of knowledge seeking.

I have no attachment to them. When you are part of all that is, you are everything, and therefore, almost above, or unaffected by the dirt of the world - you are the dirt. All of it is just a mirror of human minds.

On another note, they say we were created in God's image. (God is a loose term for just our creator.) And if the Universe is our creator, I do fully believe we were created in the Universe's image. One picture in particular I remember was a juxtaposition between the image of "a river delta, an angiogram of a human kidney, a simple fractal and a decidous tree in winter"
http://files.abovetopsecret.com/files/img/qr5191ff87.jpg

WE ARE THE EARTH.

Also reminds me, I'm trying to go to this gallery showing on Friday.
http://oh-wow.com/current/

Writing is a muscle

So they say writing is a muscle - in that, it must be grown, developed and nurtured, not unlike, say, your triceps, or even your heart, I'd believe. And so, this would be my account of such growth pattern.

That does bring us to an interesting point though - that the heart is a muscle, that may and can be molded to whim. Well let us look at the attributes of a muscle, shall we?

Things you can change or shape within a muscle (the 4 types of exercise):
Stamina/Endurance
Flexibility
Strength
Balance
(and my own add-in)
Speed/Reflexivity

Now lets see how these relate to the softest muscle of them all, the heart.
(And in heart, I mean the Thai relative of "jai", meaning the heartmind, if you know what I mean)

Stamina and Endurance- Necessary for one to brace one's heart, no? In times of darkness or loss of hope, endurance is incredibly necessary. The ability to keep moving forward.

Flexibility- Not everything is going to go according to how you'd hope it to. Stubborn mindsets will create heartache, battered as a stone in a flowing river. The ability to go with the flow.

Strength - Sometimes the heart must decide and act upon things that it would not rather. Pain and suffering will happen, and there is no way to shake it. But guard your heart with strength and do what all have told you that you could not achieve. The ability to overcome.

Balance - To me, this is more of the balance between heart and mind, logic and passion. Looking to weigh pros and cons, look objectively, set priorities. Balance is prevalent in all factions of life. The ability to look and decide with wisdom (away from calculating logic and hasty passions).

Speed and Reflexivity - My own input, perhaps due to my own struggle with indecision, the hearts ability to react quickly (speed) but trained in a certain calm state (reflexivity -dealing with TYPES of reflexes). Making smart decisions on the fly. The ability to dance through the obstacles of life.

jealousy

jealousy is only insecurity.
The tainted blood in pumping purity
a arm's embrace
        a lover's gaze..
a caging grasp
        a broken mask..

Pandora's mouth held more secrets than a box ever could.
Lips locked tight,
Teeth bit down on truth that bites.

You'd think things in sight would overwrite insight, but when in flight, movement incites eyes alight to see clearer into that dark viscous veil of white (lies.)

vader

Mussed head,
Hair tousled,
Sprawled out..

I see your chest flutter with little breaths, twitching pink love in the depths of a whiskered snout,
you fade my doubts.

(ab)SOLUTIONS.

This year I joined the institution,
for I heard the priest could abSOLVE my past problems with his abSOLUTIONS.
No matter how awful, no matter my fault,
his left wrinkled hand could right all my wrongs.
No need for forgiveness, no need for remorse,
just step right in, fresh amnesia straight from the Source.

(rap)port

Sometimes I speak before I write, the tongue inside my mind- it's like a whip that lashes from side to side, and I grab it like a dogs tail- it turns around and bites. And words, they flow down like a river goes, into the ocean flow, but I ain't got no flow, I'm just a rowboat -I learned to row. For an artist is one who expresses themselves through the tongues of limbs, that sing hymns to the Divine within-- I wish I  were true to do, because I can paint, I can dance, I can sing, and rhyme lines in a minute.
A minute is all a man needs to sin it.... or win it?
Damned, you're in hell and you're gone, it's the bell, and then that is all. The coroner's delight and the emperor's fall. And we live to die but do we die to live? So does that mean that death is less than life or life is less than death? Should we live in regrets? But how do we know down which road time will go? And down which path regrets will follow? Snow falls and stars die while suns cry for clear skies. We need clouds to shade us from the ruthless truth. The truth that the light in our mind is a trick designed to shade the heart from a fight. Or from flight clipped by fright?  We pull feathers off of birds so we can fly and they're left to die.
We're just factors in a game of chess that He-who-is-at-rest plays during his free time. And as the moves go on we stop and think: one moment its mother's milk and the next is numbing drinks. It helps us sustain, get rid of the pain, and sometimes in vein you struggle to regain your sensations, though feigned. So prone to decay, you sleep as if died-- get mummified. Some think they're designed for us to find.
Is it what we find that make us, or do we make what we find? Is it our dreams that break us?--but when you break dreams, you become undefined.
Peek from outside the greenhouse, they look in.
You pray for warm days. I pray for thick skin.

forehead kiss

A spot, a pore in my fore-head is tingling and ringing and shooting shivers in me, sweat heady smoke and I melt into the floor and slip, gone to nevermore..

A royal darkness where I play the golden trim, and he spins a wreath around my head, a lovelorn scarlet sin. 

I feel way too much right now. shivering, tingling, numbing.. as though every inch of my skin were light up, each hair on end and skin crawling with the sensations of tender lips pressed up 'gainst my brow.. almost as though the goosebumps on my skin were reaching out, pushing to feel his touch again.

I've never met anybody like you before.

moment of nervousness.

tension in the air

     in faded breath
       and bated bliss

                 his head bowed down
                               her hand in hair
                                                                    .....it has come to this.



I want to speak heart-to-heart

but the shallow mouth-to-mouth words

build a wall in between us

and though we're nose-to-nose

it's so hard to see eye-to-eye

so we sit in silence, side-by-side....

Through the                                                             "how was your day,                                it was good" 's

             idle fingers weave bridges between lands that had once contoured each other,

                     every nook and cranny filled with                                             "i-don't-understand"'s

so that the interlocking fingers are locked and one can no longer enter..

we have nothing left to ponder-

                             we are fated to wander and in pretending, hope that we will somehow transcend this bitter end and win through,

                                                                                                                          as though it ever meant any less to lose...

shall unhappiness follow us, whatever we choose?

literotica

When all in deep sleep, the Word-Stealer sneaks
to prey on a man.
They think "lover",
but just fan..
Is there one who fights back?
or at least understands..
and her red-cherry tongue
lures in battles, not won,
but seduced by her raven-tress dress of slinky duress.
Men heave breaths in and out,
full of Death and quivering doubt as
their words disappear with a lingering caress
of the faint verbal touch
of a writer in lust.
With their foreheads aligned,
frontal lobes, intertwined,
they plunge into sleepy quenched sedation..... -She could move a nation.

With a twitch of her thigh,
you're bewitched, as her words
unravel your brain until you're tongue tied.

Her eyes
Danced
Like tears
from fingers

Throwing light
Slipping down
Out of sight.

balloons

I am but a balloon, yoked to a platoon
                  of fourscore more,
                           so I sit quiet, ignored.

I have wondered what it feels like
            to have something to lose,
                                                      staying close to the ground for a reason I choose.
                             For now I am tied down, my job: erase frowns (that's what they tell me).

                                                                                                            So I sway, day-by-day,
                                                                     because some divine finds me worthwhile
                                                    my "ultimate purpose" is but to bring a smile..
Yet I wish for something a little more,
   perhaps there's more magic left in store for me.
            Hoping for something beyond what I can be,
                                                                                and then maybe they'll see!
                                            That I'm more than this helium taxidermy.

Yet I am but a balloon, yoked to a platoon
                         of fourscore more,
                               and as I despair, I implore

                            "give me a purpose! a task that's difficult! something worth it!"

                                                                          but before I know, from down below, I am thrust upon a tear-filled child...
                                                   and I realize-

what a joy it is, to make a smile.

can't sleep

insomnia shakes my troubled mind..
a sneaky memory of your touch lingering, fingering
my hair and intertwined with the lines of my
hands and if I dream hard enough
can I call you to reality?

Constant vigilance from viscous eyes
watching for the end
of a lover's sigh.. but can
they ever really take that breath away?
It was never theirs to give in the first place...

Rocked to the rhythm of turmoil
and lullabied by the strain of serenity
that comes to mind when you're in
the forefront of the times..
you make me blind.

so why won't you let me close my eyes and call it a night?

unchangeably changing

The hapless remorse

of the child

who watched

the sun come up

and his breakfast get shot.

The timid hand

against a BIGGER man

who gives unjustified reasons

for the change of the seasons.

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier.

Another head aches, another heart breaks
I am so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLByfMIGs7c

shining for shadows

the sun picks her weary spirit up in the mornings,
wintry cold, fire burned out
and shines half-heartedly to begin another day
wishing for another way
to be noticed.

They say she is everything, and everything is her
but she is granted as a fixture in necessities plight.
And because she still goes on to shine,
they curse her name for being too bright..

she wanted to be darker,
creep-sweeping and weeping..
cutting corners with edgy eyes
fulfilling nocturnal needings.
And for 40 days and 40 nights,
she was gone.

Gone, gone, cold to the core
shining weakly, yet still,
so they believe her restored..

They know better though. Shadows in the black
waver unstable with no light to combat.
Her shine trips over buildings to illuminate swarthy pockets held close to the walls
spaces for the demons to crawl..

so shine, they say
you'll never go out
light is mother of the night
and trust is the father of doubt
Stray Dogs need shade and sun all the same,

they'll remember your name.

I want to see Blue Valentine again...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mS9U75YC-jA

goodbye for now.. this is so hard..

one million shades of confusing, foggy gray.

Words! How do you dash unheeded past the fortification of my lips.. in my emptiness I produce empty words, empty looks, empty actions.

Why can't I talk to you? Why am I so afraid? What am I afraid of?

I'm afraid of you. I can't see you clearly. I realize.. you're expressing an idea that I cannot comprehend -
you love me?

What is love, and who is me?
And here I go again, ruining perfectly good things, and perfectly good people with my internal shitiness and inability to accept things. I'm pretty sure I yelled at you the other night. I don't want anything from anyone! I don't want it. I don't want. 
and maybe that's just it. Maybe I'm scared of desire, of wanting. Maybe its not that I've learned that the things I want are wrong. Maybe I've come to believe that wanting anything is wrong. Buddhism has taught me that much.

but desire defines who we are. Our likes, dislikes, our preferences colour our Self.

you asked me this morning.

I don't understand what I want.
I'm not happy here.
You asked me this morning.
And its hard.
I wish I could tell you that its hard.
but its something that I'm not even admitting to myself.

I guess since we've been doing this whole "affirmation" thing, I've been trying to not address, accept, put into words the problems that I have.

'I'm fine.'

I wasn't fine. I felt sick inside. Pasting sickly saccharine smiles all over my face for the sake of not worrying anybody else, much less myself. Worried about the obsessive gnawing of my mind.. overgrown with diseased sewer-rats.. I have so much fear. Mostly fear of my fear.

but its thoughts like this that catch my troubled head when you're away..

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXEq7WiINa4

Everything looks perfect from far away.

nothingness

Nothingness twiddles its thumbs in space somewhere, sitting in front of an oak wooden desk and in an oak wooden chair, floating out in an endless galaxy of dust and crumbs on the black cloak of Grandfather Time.

Grandfather Time's milky way of a beard flowed through the dark with illumination..winding up to a pearly little crescent smile, shadow-casting mountains and valleys to eyes that glittered like stars. 

Nothingness often spent his days like this, verging on alacrity and teetering on indecision, struggling between his paradoxical existence which contained all which that is, and emptiness. 

filled to the brim with uncertainty...

and I feel it beginning to spill over.

I actually think I'm not okay right now. Something needs to change, and I'm not sure what.

Are these growing pains? Uncomfortable in the shift?

I am filled with greed - I want more, I want more, I want more. I want more from you..

You know, to be honest. I just want to be normal, in terms of us, I guess. I want to go out for a purpose, not steal moments to ourselves. I want there to be initiation and answer, not quiet assumption. I don't think I like this.
I'm not me, its not we, so I'm floating in this weird gray area in between. The lines are getting a little too blurred and I'm not sure if I'm treading water in the ocean or actually standing on shore. Where does the beach start and stop??

Really starting to take a toll on me. I don't like secrets anymore.

wotd: clinomania

I just want to be back in bed with you.


Morning-time. With sleepy awareness, I pull myself upright.. feet browsing for purchase on the cold ground.. but the blankets tug at my arms, reeling me back into your embrace.. Comforted by the comforter. Imagining your arms again around me.. drinking in the delicious scent of you as I nuzzle to find that spot in your chest I love so much.

We wake up in pain, nowadays. Dreams tinged by nightmares, flinching crimson-avoidance colouring what should be honest sunshine... One cannot help but turn inward, when unable to reach outward - is it me? Why does everybody want to hide me? Why the shame? Am I not worth the truth? Why must things be this way?
Why, why and why?

Always my love and desire is something to be ashamed of. Whether in terms of talent, material, relationship - I must constantly fight the idea that what I want is not okay. 
I must try my hardest not to believe it. That is not my voice.

I just want to sleep nowadays. Just sleep, dream, relax, and stay in that safety and comfort..

"to die, to sleep...to sleep, perchance to dream..."

abundance abundance abundance!

I ATTRACT HEALTH AND ABUNDANCE TO MY LIFE.

random shit.

A little drained.
The feeling of anger seeping from your body is likened to the last curl of vitality that gently tugs itself out of your lungs.. a little boy pulling at his blankie caught in the front door...

The masterful power rises inside me and animates my motionless body, the Geppetto splaying my fingers in unattractive formations to Dr. Frankenstein these ugly rearing feelings... they're alive!

Anxiety makes you sweat and fret like a big fuzzy Yeti clinging to your back. Does anyone notice the Yeti? Probably not. But you do. He's making you weak at the knees, dragging you down. what a burden of responsibility.
But maybe you need to work out some.


As she reached for the fizzy, sparkling glass of champagne, her hair fell forward to shade her eyes in beautiful golden waves, competing majesty with the sun. The line of her jaw sloped to smooth her sweeping neck, angled into sharp shoulders... you'd surely impale yourself on your own kindness, trying to reassure her.

politics nowadays

The prophylactic didactic, mind-virus thriller
It's his hand-will to spill,
but he ain't no killer- just a winner...
Of the bipartisan game.
Champion defender wielding truth to mangle and maim.

I said "Sorry..."

and somewhere in the dark recesses of my brain, I heard the smokey blue songs of a jazz singer lulling me to sleep.
 the tears stole out as quietly as a high school-er at 1 in the morning.. believing it would relieve some of the burdens, responsibilities, stress.
But you're just left with a tight face and dry mouth, baggy eyes and a swollen lip pout.

 And then I cried. It was like my whole being had been hurled off a waterfall- cool serenity eroding the way to a rushing, roiling mass of emotional turbulence. I couldn't remember my own words, much less remember where I was, and could barely even hear my own rambling thoughts over the waterworks.

 Afterwards I didn't feel anything.
                           
                                  Just tired as hell.

to be a real boy. (lets be gender-neutral with that word for a second, eh?)

Depression.
 
    It's funny, you know?
You'd expect it to sneak up on you, gliding along with its great swirling cloak of gloom, exhaling anesthesiatic breaths on unknowing suspects -poof- blowing plumes of despair in your face like a sarcastic, tooth-pick chewing asshole.

I mean, most of the time it is like that. But not always.
Sometimes it shows up waving and flapping its arms, screaming like a banshee and while you're all seized up from the shock (and ridiculousness) of it all, it punches you. Right in the gut.

Woosh.

Air slingshots out of your lungs, your stomach yearningly stretching to kiss your spine, and its not the pain, that draws your focus. Nah, you realize how motherfucking empty you are, like some monstrous over-animated Pinocchio of a blow up doll. I just wanted to be a real boy...

That's the thing about depression though.
There's nothing wrong with your life. Nothing at all.

But why the terrible empty hunger?

secrets

It is hard to live a reality
that may only remain a dream.
Whispers in the shadows,
blinding lights unseen
by sunlight. The originator
eclipsed by creator..... stormy rain check.

"Wait.

     Not now.



                    Later..."

TNK - Mary Ann Pietzker

“Is It True? Is It Necessary? Is It Kind?

Oh! Stay, dear child, one moment stay,

   Before a word you speak,

That can do harm in any way

   To the poor, or to the weak;

And never say of any one

   What you’d not have said of you,

Ere you ask yourself the question,

   ”Is the accusation true?”

And if ’tis true, for I suppose

   You would not tell a lie;

Before the failings you expose

   Of friend or enemy:

Yet even then be careful, very;

   Pause and your words well weigh,

And ask it it be necessary,

   What you’re about to say.

And should it necessary be,

   At least you deem it so,

Yet speak not unadvisedly

   Of friend or even foe,

Till in your secret soul you seek

   For some excuse to find;

And ere the thoughtless word you speak,

   Ask yourself, “Is it kind?”

When you have ask’d these questions three—

   True,—Necessary,—Kind,—

Ask’d them in all sincerity,

   I think that you will find,

It is not hardship to obey

   The command of our Blessed Lord,—

No ill of any man to say;

   No, not a single word.