Life: Entry 2It's been a week since my last entry, my dear Journal, and sorry, but it's not like I can write any more often. Work and school seem to be consuming everything.Well, the English teacher assigned this stupid-ass exam paper to analyze James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Dear god, sometimes I just want to stand up and beat his ass down in the middle of class. Still, I don't need to give the superintendent a reason to expel me, so I don't.Besides, the book has to be some of the driest reading I've ever sampled. Granted, introductions are usually pretty boring as it is, but... Damn. Does it have to explain every damn thing p
To an Old FriendI'm writing this in the hopes that you might sometime see it, and maybe read it through. I doubt that'll happen though. If anything, it'll probably be ignored and life will go on. It's not like I'm mailing you my ear or something like that; I doubt you would find much use or interest in it anyway.I used to think that maybe there was something else, something that could give shelter to both of us together. I see now that it was nothing but a merry delusion I drowned myself in through an attempt to run away from what I am. Besides, you've probably already found your solace.I wonder if you've ever heard of the Hedgehog's Dilemma. I wouldn't
Dear Sister...You'll never see this. I almost guarantee it. It's been too long now, and I doubt you remember me; after all, I renounced any possible claim I had to the title of big brother the moment I stepped out into that blizzard so many years ago. Has it really been over 4 years now?I remember those last few minutes with perfect clarity, you wondering where I was going, and wondering when I'd be back, while your little brother ran around wondering what was going on.Why was mommy crying at the kitchen table? Why had your brother put all of his things in trash bags and boxes? Why did your father stand stoically by the door, looking at the person you
Open Source: LFGGideon climbed out of bed, yawning. He knew he wasn't going to be changing any worlds, but anons were the best at not getting caught. He'd just arrived at the N00bv!113 !nn, and took a few woozy steps while looking around. He crouched and slowly walked over to the door, only to get hit in the face as it was kicked in by the innkeeper."You stayed your night, now get the hell out." She waved a broom in his general direction, as he decided how to respond to this invasion."Fine, fine, I'm going." Gideon sighed as he pulled on his pants and vest, set up just the way he liked them. Extra pockets and sleeves for carrying knives.Other grumbling
TidesClichéd topics rattle around inside my skull,lacking permanance and substance inside the ethered fog of my mindscape.Sand castles washed away by waves of timeand life leaving naught but a flat beachof where the ideas used to be.Maybe I need to find something to hold on to,a bungalow built around a dream I keep to myself;a place where I can watch the sunset in peace.
Repeat After MeStatic noise,a white backgroundwith black gapswhere signals are lost in ether.The silence is nice,free from subliminalityand the messagesthey want you to read.Go to school,get a job,pay your taxes,obey the law.Society is rotten,and wasted to the core;but, when art is unrestrainedwe can become free.
Gentle BreezeOh breeze whispering softly,carry this message for me.The words stay between us,but the meaning is easyfor anyone to grasp atif they pay close attention.Take the corrupted wordsof hatred and suffering,spread them like a diseaseamong everyone around.Show the sheep that theyare dead to the world,incapable of composinganything new and unique.Carry my message, gentle breeze,that all who listen are dead.
Different Words, Same MeaningMost romance poetryseems to boil down tothe same question,no matter who you read.I don't read poetry though,it tends to be dry,boring, the same thingover and over again.It doesn't stop me from asking the samequestion as the otherpoets around, though.Do I go for the girl,or do I start over again?
GreedI'm addicted to it,the way everythingseems to be brighter,friendlier, painless.More, I need it,it keeps the pain awayand keeps me safefrom the demons outside.The craving's startedto settle in permanently,the need and the wantleft over from last time.This feeling, it's glorious; I feel aliveand free when I have it,instead of chained uplike the monster I am.
PrideI fill my lungs belting out the next notes and words of a song I know I can't sing.My roommates hate me,both trying to sleepafter having their physical duet.Still, I sing to myself,as beautifully as a lark;I tell myself constantlybecause it must be true.I'm not off-key, orusing the wrong octave,I'm just adding mypersonal flavor to it.
ScientistCharts and figures,equations and solutions,why is this alwaysmade so difficultby the emotions longsealed in my heart?I want to see you,tell you I'm sorry,ask you about us and if we could work.Maybe we're just running around in little circles, locked in an orbitwe've studied but cannot change.
DisconnectCold fingers, speak to me,why do you call me to writewhen you cannot even bring the words to mind?Could it be because of her?How she came back into your life the day afteryou could finally forget?Maybe things are better left as they were, kept hidden in the closetand sealed in tight.Are you trying to tell methat maybe emotions are bestwhen left behind, and replaced with reason?
Looking BackLooking back at everythingand how it could have gone,I realize you were correct.You were always right,even if I don't ever say that it couldn't have gonebadly regardless of us.Even then, look at it now;the finale we both never wantedall tied up with a pretty bow.I guess it doesn't need to be said anymore, sinceit's after the end ofeverything we never wanted.You will never see thisand I will never see you,because everything I've doneI will never be able to undo.
Unsent MessagesAnother unsent message;another written truthsitting idly in its folder.The words come freelywhen I write the letter,spilling out before my eyes,but shaky hands later sit idleas the message gathers dust.Indecision slows the mindlike an infinite loop,unable to take the first stepand move onward through time.Sometimes they're good to read,look back on and muse over,even if they'll never be seenby the intended receiver.Months later, the message remains,still unsent, because the heartsits paralyzed with cautious fear.
HumanLooking back on those days,when life was simplerand the lines were clear,friends were friendsand enemies were enemies.Back when we were younger,and time seemed to crawlwhile we sat in our cornersand spoke with big dreamsuntarnished by time.Did it all have to endthe way it did, with contactreduced to occasional messagessent from screen to screen?When did my computer replacethe faces I saw, emotionsgoing from despair to happiness?Sad are the days when humaninteraction has been reducedto the press of a button.
FighterWaking up in the morning,fighting the specterof expectations hanging fromthe tree in the backyard.Going out every day,fighting for what I believe in,dancing around their jabs,looping around hooks.Gonna give 'em hell, fight and wrestlewith the annoyances standing in the way.Gotta live life untilI'm dead, and be rememberedas someone who never stoppedhis fighting for peace.
EchoesThe song sounds syrupy,the headset across the roomplaying loudly, making surethat I can hear well.I'm being screamed at,feeling smaller and smaller,but I know I deserve itfor the things I've done.It's the reason I drink,trying to drown out the wordswhile my black heart continuesworshiping a dead star.I try to leave this place,to find the door to my cageand kick it down, to escapethe monster I've become.And in this place now hollow,the memories always followand I drown in the echo,knowing I'll never let go.
TherapyI wanna be drunk when I wake up,end up on the right side of the wrong bed.Forget my name,forget my problems.No champagne anymore'cause I got nothingleft to celebrate.Drink more beer,maybe another scotch;definitely more vodka,with a little less tequila.Maybe I'll stay that wayfor a few years,coping the only way I know how.
To Hell With ItExcuse me, I'm drunk as shit,I won't remember this.I can barely spell thingscorrectly, but I'm tryingjust fof the sake of it.I want the girl, screw all this romantic shit,it brings a tear to my eye just from remembering it.Far past the point of goneand well into the part ofwasted beyond all belief,I can't remember. The memoryslips my mind, like the language I try to convey itwith, clumsy as it is.Fuck this, I'll just stay herein my bed, alone, thinkingabout how messed my life is.
Excuse MeExcuse me, I know notwhat I really mean.Attempt after attempt,trying to say exactlywhat I try to, again and again.The cycle repeats,I'm drunk again.The cycle continues,no hope for me, then.Laughter, happiness,things I have no role in,carry on above mewhile I sit herein the dark,left alone and lonely.Maybe I should cast offall ties to others.Maybe I should leave.Just let everything arounddie and leave it be.
MaybeMaybe I should stop,and not try to burn outwhile I'm young.Maybe I should livefor my future, instead of my now.Maybe I should goand see what elsethere is for me in life.Maybe I need to stop,and wake up from thesesordid dreams of mine.Or maybe I just needanother drink in hand.
Sta.sh
