you don't know what you're doing

something unknown is doing we dont know what, that is what our knowlege amounts to.

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 00:08:58 GMT

So as it stands:
I have dug my heels in for the last time. This clusterfuck of a existence I keep trying to make work needs to be scrapped and restarted. I think it is time to admit defeat amidst the cries of drunken disillusion. Part of me wants to keep up the experiment just to see what happens, and of course the natural recourse of not wanting to be wrong. However. Everyone is progressing around me and I can't even remember where the monsters are in the garden.

So as it will be.
I have 2000 dollars standing between myself and a normal life, a will to kill this life I have created, and a job that could pay off Charon and let me cross my personal river styx to a new life. However, I also have a parasite in my bed that sucks away more than my blood. Distance needs to be actualized and a return to self needs to be at least started. I can't keep hiding in a city that no one knows the truth about me. Honestly, if you heard half the things that come out of my mouth, I think people that know me would double over with laughter.

Maybe I just need to run again.

Sun, 31 May 2009 07:34:09 GMT

confusion and disillusion sound remarkably alike when an empty pint of jack stares you in the eyes.

sol

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 08:39:23 GMT

It is a new sensation,
this complete lack of dread and guilt.
I enjoy how little sense of degradation that has passed my way.
Strange how alive this has made my second hand organs feel.

The enigma sits in front of the full length mirror, in vain trying to figure the puzzle out.

I feel sick to the bone about how differently my perspective sounds aloud,
now that I have learned to communicate in vocal words instead of ink.

The lifted lies have creeped back into shadowed corners of my integrity.
my life may be bullshit, but trust me it's all genuine.
My past didn't fit the frame so I painted a more colorful one.

sleeping serpents, seemingly posed to strike, sing sorrow in their deepest dreams.

I wish this fable had never started.
There is no great lesson.
Just an unjustified liaison to whom I used to pretend I was.
My conscience has long since packed it bags and set out to find someone that might listen.

hehe

Tue, 03 Mar 2009 00:02:17 GMT

two fish are in a tank,

one looks at the other one

and says:

"I don't know how to drive this thing."

a panda walks into a bar, orders and eats a sandwich, then shoots the waitress in the face.
he gets up to leave and the bartender asks him what the hell he is doing.
The panda says, "well I am a panda."
the bartender asks what that has to do with anything,
the panda hands him an encyclopedia, tells him to look him up.
The bartender looks it up as the panda walks out the door.

PANDA:
eats shoots leaves.

A bear walks into a bar and sits down,
The bartender asks what he'll have to drink
The bear sits for awhile, thinking it over,
finally he said, I'll just have a beer.
The bartender says "That's it? Why such the large pause?"
Bear says, "Well I am a bear."

Mon, 23 Feb 2009 11:35:32 GMT

"life sucks,"
"I'm so sad,"
"Things are so hard "
"Everyone disrespects me."

suck my dick.

grow up.

as of late:

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 22:02:50 GMT

I have decided I don't give a damn about being a good person anymore.
I have realized I don't really care about people's thoughts or feelings.
I have learned that when someone you love is near, you should wall yourself off and act distant or else you'll never get to say goodbye.
I have noticed the tendency I have to fall in love with self absorbed twats.
I have began to wonder how the hell I am going to make it through the next few months.

so what.

at least Im alive.

molson.

Tue, 20 Jan 2009 00:54:38 GMT

In the enhanced state,
Something broke through a misty haze,
"You're too smart for this,"
The mood shifts erratically and an unexplained euphoria takes shape.
Solidarity does have its perks.
Distance between the sounds has proved far too vast.
Fuel for a lost soul wandering with lapsed resolve.
Perhaps if I could stop narrating my epiphanies,
and instead actually experience them,
maybe the words I insist on recording would have substance.
I'm lip syncing real emotion...
conjuring alliteration,
falsifying emotion.

and yet,
with him,
I still feel home.

Sat, 03 Jan 2009 09:58:21 GMT

Can I touch you?
Reality shifts and becomes conscious of itself.
I'm unable to differentiate between my quest for total self depreciation and your natural tendency to recoil from affection
I give in to the dominant addiction of this present moment.
A cocktail of death sits in my bedroom, waiting me for me to become weak by your rejection.
disguised as euphoria, I plunge deeper into the delirium.
Death hides in subtle fragments of muted life,
I kill myself a little bit more every day.
So why do you die?
You forget who I am in inconvenient increments of time.
Your personality wastes away as your BAC rises.
You are the impairment of my senses.

just let me play in my psychosis.

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 05:16:04 GMT

I started out the new year by not going to jail.
by the skin of my teeth.
which is still enough in matters such as this.
Without going through a brutally boring recap or review,
this has been absolutly the worst year of my life.

I could fill a notebook with regrets.
I wish it hadn't shook out the way it did,

but shit in one hand, wish in the other....
I guess it's just time to move on.
headed west or east,
I'm about to flip a goddamn coin.

suspended animation

Sat, 20 Dec 2008 17:17:59 GMT

The touch feels more like leprosy than love.
If this is the best I get, then I'll see you all later.
I slashed my wrist last night, but not in the way you'd think.
not in the definite way.
It scared me how deep the wound went and I felt nothing.

I'm up to my eyeballs in assholes.
I think I may be incapable of being loved,
which in turn would explain why I allow myself to be used by people who only care for themselves.
the snow covered streets hide the midwest's monotony, but sheds in cruel light how selfish people are.

I've had it with this feeling of weakness.
my brain drowns in all of the verse I can not form into coherent thoughts.
I'm choking on the hair that is falling out of my head.

my baby's got the bends...

Fri, 19 Dec 2008 20:00:41 GMT

the sample proved the majority.
lasting impressions are unfavorable.

this day is allready shaping up to be awful.

22.
big fucking deal.

dot dot dot

Thu, 04 Dec 2008 08:51:28 GMT

an amber liquid

It liqufies my vocabulary

leads to thoughts of feeling,

thoughts of fleeing.

...some way or another,

you'll find a way out of this little one.

oh you,

my petty little liar.

It must be nice to feel so little.

I can't imagine how impressed you must feel.

broke a spirit. interrupted a life.

(again,)

I suppose it was naive to believe I was any different

simply put,

I was...

never will be..

ever could be..

any where near,

ever good enough.

But enough self doubting,

self deappriciation,

I'm brusied to the core from beating myself up.

It isn't my fault,

never was.

never will be.

Life ending,

or life affirming.

a second chance was breathed into my lungs,

or forcibly removed from me.

"reset

restart

still low on the juice"

I'm trying hard to get over myself.

I can't keep up on all these epiphonies I have had in the last two years.

maybe I should just DO something about it.

Perhaps instead of trying to impress some green eyed weary wanderer,

I should try out making myself happy.

maybe that will yeild some results.

Listen to the words you insist on echoing in your ear drums.

you're in love with someone that will not love you back,

so stop it,

stop trying,

It will never be worth it, dear.

He can't be worth it.

You've been in love twice,

that matches another statistic, amanda.

I think my nervous break-down is begining to take shape.

the only time he may notice I am here

is when I accidently take his buzz,

his escape.

god dammit.

why the fuck do I bother?

because he's perfect for me.

He makes me want something bigger than myself.

because it's what I need.

He makes me feel something in my bones,

aspiration for greatness.

dead.

I feel dead.

lost.

so lie to me.

remind me i'm worth something.

my pores bleed out,

the emotion is lost.

lost in a sea of tannons

lost in a sea of seven drunken moments

watch your p's and q's

Thu, 04 Dec 2008 07:06:00 GMT

I wrote this two years ago,
I reworked it a little, I think this sounds better

The thought to flee comes as the room becomes a tomb.

The walls close in, screaming every secret that has been a permanent stain, covered by paint and promises.

Suffocation is not only probable, but imminent.

Words that have been repressed far too long come out in a slow leak of enmity onto the blank paper.

(This is what running away looks like in characters and punctuation.)

Vivid memories of nights that never happened are used as careful daggers, plotted perfectly to cut main arteries

There will be no getting out of here alive.

A quiet calm washes away the fear of cowardice.

To stop and question why this abandonment is necessary is an exercise in futility

The queen's been trumped, throw in your hand, the game is lost.

Lies quilted together with bad intentions create a tapestry of this lost relationship.

Sing a sparrow’s song of blatant disregard and close quarters.

Have no qualms about what will happen to you.

The claustrophobia is to be expected and quickly resolved.

This is all just my elaborate cover-up.

lime trees

Wed, 03 Dec 2008 04:38:05 GMT

Things progressed toward an unimpressive angle.

It was hard to gauge even two years ago how little it would impact future choices.

The lie was repeated

The same blue line results appeared.

Swollen stomach, damanged ego.

Insane.

Just plain insane.

Keep pushing through the denial.

The liquor always warms the blood like a passionate rage.

Hot sticky guilt,

how familiar you feel against my skin in the morning.

Disillusioned dreamer,

you just keep backsliding,

Nightmares of sterile white,

I cant stand the sight of it.

Things are actually really good right now. I feel really content. I wish I could have seen some familiar faces when I was home, hopefully next time.

Sun, 30 Nov 2008 23:49:37 GMT

its really frusterating to put absolutly everything you have into the well being of another and have them repeatedly let you down/abandon you/forget about you.

slash take advantage of you.

fool me once, shame on you.

fool me twice...

shoot me in the head, I'm not going to learn.

voting day.

Wed, 19 Nov 2008 19:29:55 GMT

"I don't know when I'm going to be home," she said.
I don't know if I'm ever coming home, she thought.
A gentle voice wafts over through the haze of the brutal self annihilation,
singing soft promises of springtime.

The vodka keeps the bottle cold in his pocket,
"You have your pills, we all gotta get to sleep somehow," he said.
This was never, ever my home, she thought.
Every day she lives out the definition of the the word Insanity.
Call the asylum, I'll never learn on my own.

Why so apathetic today, this fourth of November.
Everyone clad in mock patriotism,
brazen symbols proclaiming they wasted their lunch break on an idiosyncratic ritual.
They clamor at the bakery counter, to see what free goods this schmuck of a business owner will give them.
(two closed eye hours proved unhelpful,
reset,
restart,
still low on the juice.)
Racism still abounds in this 'time for change.'
Fat Irish cops stand on the corner profiling darker profiles.
It's useless it seems.
Health-care provided only to those who can afford not to need it.

Young children are expected to know so much, but held accountable for so little.
In streams the soccer mom queens, baby strollers carriages, adorned with diaper bag sashes and pacifer crowns
How I loathe the idea of my existence morphing into that.

Take your minivan lifestyle and shove it up your ass.

Take your four year degrees back,
I have no real use for them.
Take nine to five back, take your television babysitters, and your sacred vows back.
Take the cut throat PTA, take the 401k, take your mediocrity!

I should keep my objections quiet.
The imperfections are not mine to pick at, like birds at the stale crusts outside the bakery.
(It's just so refreshing to feel passionate about something.)
My left arm aches with the promise of an easy way out.

I must not be so morbid.
It's drawing attention to my nervous breakdown.

Wed, 01 Oct 2008 04:38:29 GMT

I'd really like a time-out.
I'd really like a do-over.

I'd really like to come home.

Wed, 24 Sep 2008 00:21:21 GMT

kindly shut the door behind you
it would be detrimental if any of our dirty laundry to creep across the floor and slip out onto the public
(meaningful conversation is so easily distorted.)
it isn't so much the annihilation of reputation to be worried about
but rather the unspeakable consequence of someone else having the upper hand.
after all, nothing should be as torturous as this has been.
(that's just absurd)
perhaps its all been a fluke, this atomic explosion of an encounter.
undefinable definitions keep the players properly posed in character
but do little for the delicate equilibrium of the nervous breakdown
tact and grace are casually overlooked and regarded as optional.
67 minutes of hopeless soliloquies,
desperate in their attempt at a last minute reprieve

(an epic failure)
there is no remembrance of former things, after all.
leave my bones where they lie,
I have no use for this anymore.

Thu, 04 Sep 2008 07:00:36 GMT

A sparrow's song of blatent disregard.
if rage was able to be seen in hues and symbols, this poignant piece of artwork might for once get some fucking attention.
it isn't because the removal was warrented, or even championed,
it should have never happened.
now all that is left seems to the fleeting memories.
they happened so long ago the question begs to be asked,
did they happen at all?

swollen stomache and damanged eyes,
this city's infestation is affecting me to the bone.

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 19:22:18 GMT

Lifted to a higher state than the sordid memory of last night, I feel euphoria
Discredited depression, go away.
I have no time for you today
Pivotal moments force a breaking of traditional methods.
I choose the path of brutal resistance, knowing full well the stress that couples itself with that choice
news of my imminent demise was enough to kick-start my mind into the necessary patterns.
slow climb to self actualization begrudgingly begins.
cold eyes, empty stare.
I know what your skin feel likes in the morning.
It makes me feel some closure to feel so little.

hints and allegations

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 20:00:00 GMT

struggling.
again.
fucking drunk.
fucking drug addict.

moved away to find myself.
No one said I was going to like what I found.
I know I have a perversely intimate knowledge of myself.

I'm a fucking joke.

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 12:31:07 GMT

remember that day,
a long time ago,
that we listened to npr jazz in the driveway
and danced in the rain?

I do.

We must have looked insane.
we must have looked like nothing in the world could touch us.
we must have looked happy.

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 05:32:39 GMT

ware wolf on a whiskey moon.
Instability is to most certainly ensue.
No medication prevalent for your psychosis.
I keep trying to sift through the ambiguous bullshit.
I will always wait for "our good days."
A faint and fleeting memory of nostalgia.
Your electronic love is sending you letters and characters of past lust.
And I am supposed to pretend I don't care.
I have hardened my heart to you, D.
I can't pretend that this is some great exercise in patience.
It is an exercise in futility.
Nine cans and a empty pint in front of me.
This is what allows me to spew my ridiculous tendencies on your subconscious.
I can't do it.
I can not pretend.

I love you wholeheartedly.
But that is not enough for you.
You resent me for it.
I want to walk away.
But something holds me here.

Fuck you.

five reasons...

Fri, 23 May 2008 13:03:09 GMT

Wind whistles in the near distance

a train screams as it heads somewhere far from here

the old window panes can hardly stand the abuse.

They shake in protest.

Inside, the light is warm.

It bathes the wooden floors with an iridescence that is almost startling.

ebony chess pieces seem to move as the young lovers cast shadows from the couch on loan from grandmother's funeral parlor

abounding chemistry and an intense connection

the rain continues to beat down the walls frantically attempting to gain access to this perfect moment

but they are exclusively enraptured with the touch of the others skin.

as of late.

Mon, 19 May 2008 14:48:45 GMT

dust to dust. ashes to crumbled bits of an orchid plant. Nothing retained, nothing remembered. an emotionally catastrophic conversation. I don't know you? This is inappropriate. I am half hoping for a fleeting instance of emotional decay. Perhaps a recapitulation of the substantial piece of the relationship needs to be vocalized. As it stands at this particular drunken moment of 'loveless fascination,' we seem to be players in a grand scheme of all things unholy. whiskey and inebriation have reminded me of a more complicated instance of frozen time. Who are you? Who am I? What in the hell are we trying to prove? And to whom? Questions on the quiet road to self rejection. A road back lit and harmonized by a soundtrack so muted, you'd swear on your lover's soul (my your soul!) that the trees were whispering secrets. What does it matter to you? I'll be gone in a week anyway.

A certain amount of disdain echoes in my voice Lies, lines and rehearsed verbs come out of the most distracting orifice on my face. Formulated statements and characteristics of my true narcissistic tendencies spew from my mind, onto paper in a vain attempt to abstain from guilt. White lies hell bent on self preservation. Whiskey kisses and a disregard of responsibility are a sort of waking curse. Rip up your documented evidence of my complete and utter insubordination. I am selfish, I'm nihilistic, or at least my conscience is. Soaked in bourbon, this bridge is just waiting for the match to fall. I don't care, words so simply put, even a neanderthal such as yourself could understand.

a new muse is born.