i feel so uninspired. not to mention sleepy. and spaced out. like the back of someones hand. it's like those grey spells. y'know. the ones that knock all the breath out of you. and you don't even know what's hit you.
i feel like fullstops. ... ...
like a drain... that's trying desperately to stop all the water from flowing out.
trust me. this is not art.
it's just a mistake. of sorts.
there's a seperate dimension. a different plane into which I've sunk. inextricably. like quick sand. the same wet, engulfing feeling you must get while you're getting pulled down under.
i cant really see all that well though your faces hang before me like seperate moons. floating.
that urge to touch you is gone.
now i only want the one i see waiting there for me at the end of the road.
1. your eyelashes
2. your lack of a whole last name =]
3. you like marilyn manson
(... damit... what were the others??? =D)
4. you're so much fun at 2:00 a.m. !
5. you have a neat room
6. you put up with my shit
7. you get pissed off with me
8. you piss me off
9. you're an idiot =D
10. you're my friend
11. you remember everything!!!
12. you used to send me bewtiphool music
13. you dont bore me (believe it or not!)
14. your secret dog that you wont tell me about
15. you're a vegetarian
16. it's raining
17. it's all green
trapped between two walls...
broken. glass. hearts. rules.
bruised. ego. skin. sky.
closed. eyes. doors. minds.
bleeding. hearts. knees. gums.
static. electricity.
dimension.
defocus.
blank. paper. eyes. walls.
black. nails. waves. night.
come. back. away.
"... may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second,
because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here,
dying?"
- pablo neruda
i'm so tired. it feels like i'm slowly sinking into something dark. cold and murkey. i feel like a chair. a twig. like wood. like water. like nothing. i'm dreaming. everything is silent. like death.
i dont know what to do with this weight. it's heavy and hollow. like smooth cold metal cylinders. i dont know what to do with it. it rolls. like a wheel over a dead person.
is it Ok to say you're scared? can i peer into the screen and pretend it has eyes and can see me?
my elbow's resting on a shelf that belong to the ancient wooden bookshelf in my room. it's a weird bookshelf, painted a nondescript shade of... well, cream, i guess. but it looks grey. dull. flakey.
it's killing me. but that's Ok. i swear it is.
yeah, this is strange.
...y'know, sometimes I scare myself. it's as if i'm not really in control of what i do and feel and someone/thing else with a twisted sense of humour is behind every thought or action. it's as if i'm not participating but watching as things unfold in front of me...
... i get so tired sometimes. it feels like i'm on this road that winds around and around and ties it self tightly in a knot around my throat. my perception is blurred and foggy and i cant really see where i'm headed...
i dont actually want a lot. i just want everything.
i want to run away. i want to be in a dream. i want the sky to turn red. i want to fly. to nowhere in particular. with an eagle on my wings....
has this happened before? maybe it's deja vu.
only you know.
there's a pigeon outside my window that sits on the AirConditioning that makes an awful racket but it's easy to block the sound out 'cause i have good speakers. i cant even hear it raining. those socks are too small and too white. my guitar looks sad and dejected. i feel bad for it.
i want a piece of the bark.
we have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre
to propagate our lust for life and flee the swarm of wisdom's restraints.
the barns are stormed, the windows kept
and only one of all the rest
can dance and save us from the divine mockery of words.
- James Douglas Morisson 
a cold, black calm moving stealthily through the still, empty darkness, filling it with cold.
it learns to rhyme and dances through the slow, damp in short, quick steps.
it is filled with gold and red and black. it is dead against a rock.
it is abrupt when it moves but it's always been there.
there was a time i used to think it wasnt real, but here it is. and i can see it.
now i can feel it.
standing. barefoot. on the cold, dark road. there's a light in the distance. it is moving fast.
but not fast enough.
cold, hard metal feels cold, and smooth in my hand.
and now it's soft, and now it's fast. now it's slow and now it's hard.
lets all rise.. lift me up in your strong arms.
my soul is being completely unreasonable. it has become too preoccupied with itself. it remains too still. it is as if it's staring, waiting for something, something i cannot fathom. for it is unfortunate but we have drifted apart over the last few weeks. there is a wall, it is obvious. and i can do nothing but stare past it at my soul while it sits there, perfectly still, perfectly calm, like the flame of a candle on a still cold night. it could as well have been a vacuum. i doubt it'd have noticed.
Have you ever dreamt you were falling? And theres this bizarre little moment you're stuck in. You're flying, rushing through the air, falling, madly! The speed makes your heart race. You're flying to the moon. You can see your home and it's so far away.
I want to, at least once in my life, drift endlessly through space between the Earth and the Moon. In all black studded with bright, blue stars.
What fun it must be to float and not worry about gravity. Not worry about today...
"What have I done!" - Why must our actions have consequences, specially such terrible ones. We decide what we want to, then why do other people mind so terribly. Is it really because they're not themselves enough to handle other peoples actions? That's a terribly funny thought.
Alas! Poor mortals! :)
