Snap my head back,
quick instant relapse,
passionate magnetic tics tacs lined across the skyline with matching colored pasts.
Don't react, don't press it,
don't touch it,
don't pull it.
Don't fucking talk to me like that.
no more misses nice bitch, I'm fucking through with it.
Stuck on gauze wrapped bliss and punishment,
stuffing my face like a glutton, shit, today was shit regardless of any accomplishments or lackluster compliment,
staples deep in the brain sewed that rip better than a stitch.
Slipped out the steeple for some funny honey spit,
for some birthday madness happy randomness to sooth the 6 hours of what I'd call plain Godly malice.
And to think now he's gonna take what you can't afford,
kick open the door and store away your cookies in his horde.
Bored or maybe strung on that livelihood of running shit with dopey eyes and schizophrenic shaken looks of "But I'm not done with it."
It was a sword,
or maybe just a knife.
Quick stab to the back,
or the long slash to your life.
Why did it have to be today that the gun went and bit the bullet?
Construed it blatantly enough even a deaf man understood it.
Pull it in,
Deeeeeep,
no push it out.
Spout happiness out cha mouth,
wish for some solidness in that house.
You claim you're a man but you're a mouse,
and every day the hole gets smaller while they're hunting you, ouch.
Maybe that was a bit harsh, huh? Yeah, I can slow it down a little.
Don't worry I can sing a melody if you can fake the fiddle.
We can't speak in riddle, but someone's mistaken something.
You think I'm here to twiddle,
I'm just waiting for the golden wing salvation claimed to bring.
And yes I'm stuck here in the middle but I'm still trying to spread my wings,
throwing objects out the sling into the meandering model of our home in late spring.
Fucking lucky bird got out the cage just so it could sing,
now I'm stuck here wondering if I've gone and done the right fucking thing.
----
Solid paint board,
make more folk lore than a snake lord.
Target,
aim for-ward,
you've got a imagination instead of a sword.
Poured out the remedy till there wasn't anymore.
Sore from the time spent bent on some ill wishes.
Sick on some high self esteem and tropical fishes,
and verbs that make you bored.
----
Break the mass hysterical mixes of retribution and salvation. Feed the restless animals the tribunal revolution and desensitization. Fuck this nation of wannabe mommy's, pop stars and computer screens, I want real things, fucking people with prosperous poverty dreams, eyes bright shooting beams of the imagination they breathe.
---
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Quick imagination overwhelming the images that've been taken from a book he wrote his name just to convey the feeling of containment. Blamed it on the sunbeams and the angry style of self expression, a lesson once learned from a human with something the mention.
Suspension from the school of unlikely depression.
----
Suspension from the school of unlikely depression.
----
Saturday, April 27, 2013
I need a cheeseburger and a new life.
Words retaliate,
mix and collaborate,
make stakes for the faces they tend to rate.
High on benevolence,
low self esteem from the dishevelment or the cement that kept away ill will and malcontent.
Bent on a bit of the lack of interest from the 'interested'.
Spent the rent then took scissors to my head.
Fled the previous notion about getting into that bed,
for god sake if you were half awake I wouldn't feel this fucking dead.
Lead heart, don't go no near it, it's known to chip in the wrong places.
---
Tangle your fingers in that hair of the girl you'd like to ensnare,
care to take a walk somewhere,
have a smoke sit back and stare.
Lose the feeling of lacking air and enjoy the vibes coming from off that,
male with the composure of those who'd never talk to ya'.
Dream of self esteem gleam bright, but still don't shine enough.
Got a permanent heart beat when I talk to ya',
but I'm lonely in a place I feel I could never leave.
----
Give me a little something or other to single out the doubt of the oncoming drought. Found myself locked inside an enigma. Sucking face to concentrate, getting off sooner than late. I'm just fucking bait, a good tail and face to look at. A girl with a sense of style and sensitivity that combats the utter essence of feeling lonely and self doubt. She'll put a smile on your face. She'll make your belly full during that drought. Reverberating you time to make minds dance with one another. Hold awkward pitter patter silly grin. Lacking sin, it's all pure just emotional connection making amends in all the places you haven't been near in a while and then some. Blending colors on your palate trying to show you some directions. Blessed souls walk these streets, it just takes a cigarette, smile and weed. Bleeding hearts don't find each other, they are born to meet eventually. Sent to one another from some extraterrestrial entity. Meant to be. Fucking one another creating the new underground fleet, of people who know it's more important to eat. Take a seat on that bus of permanent nightmares, cold glares ruining what you thought were onward stares, blaring their strange form of ignorance out of bullhorns and fucking bus fare.
---
I'm so fucking...
----
mix and collaborate,
make stakes for the faces they tend to rate.
High on benevolence,
low self esteem from the dishevelment or the cement that kept away ill will and malcontent.
Bent on a bit of the lack of interest from the 'interested'.
Spent the rent then took scissors to my head.
Fled the previous notion about getting into that bed,
for god sake if you were half awake I wouldn't feel this fucking dead.
Lead heart, don't go no near it, it's known to chip in the wrong places.
---
Tangle your fingers in that hair of the girl you'd like to ensnare,
care to take a walk somewhere,
have a smoke sit back and stare.
Lose the feeling of lacking air and enjoy the vibes coming from off that,
male with the composure of those who'd never talk to ya'.
Dream of self esteem gleam bright, but still don't shine enough.
Got a permanent heart beat when I talk to ya',
but I'm lonely in a place I feel I could never leave.
----
Give me a little something or other to single out the doubt of the oncoming drought. Found myself locked inside an enigma. Sucking face to concentrate, getting off sooner than late. I'm just fucking bait, a good tail and face to look at. A girl with a sense of style and sensitivity that combats the utter essence of feeling lonely and self doubt. She'll put a smile on your face. She'll make your belly full during that drought. Reverberating you time to make minds dance with one another. Hold awkward pitter patter silly grin. Lacking sin, it's all pure just emotional connection making amends in all the places you haven't been near in a while and then some. Blending colors on your palate trying to show you some directions. Blessed souls walk these streets, it just takes a cigarette, smile and weed. Bleeding hearts don't find each other, they are born to meet eventually. Sent to one another from some extraterrestrial entity. Meant to be. Fucking one another creating the new underground fleet, of people who know it's more important to eat. Take a seat on that bus of permanent nightmares, cold glares ruining what you thought were onward stares, blaring their strange form of ignorance out of bullhorns and fucking bus fare.
---
I'm so fucking...
----
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Little Miss Sunshine Pants
Planning each step toward the residence of self regret and money debt.
If I had a some self respect, I'd pay them less and less and less.
Buy a new dress,
Wear my hair up,
instead of leaving it a mess.
Put some make up on my face,
sedate the whole mutant race.
Place in the hall of 'what the fuck did you just do there?'.
Next to the same names that taught her all of the certain ways to stare,
clothes that blare,
evident pertinent sexuality,
not picking boys or girls,
she likes a, bit of variety.
Instead of that she chose prosperous propriety.
Society is the one got her jumping over these obstacles,
skipping goals to make up for the days she sold.
Holding a tight grip on that handle of previous mortal scandals,
trying on the golden goddess sandals,
wishing to God that she had someone else to grab the handles.
Steer the wheel a bit so she could sit,
get away from the cracks in the street that trip,
the head grip up until it performs a full split.
Ripped up,
sucked up,
fucked up,
that's tough.
So instead of make up on the face,
she wears a cold stare,
heating up for two minutes then returning to the glare.
Unless the senses get warm with the radiation of another,
who thinks outside the source that plugs us into the mother.
Shit, she'd get ready to smother,
that individual in a rigid hold,
just to keep out of the mold.
Instead of clothes that blare,
she wears whatever's clean.
And what she means is anything that everyone's already seen.
Then with the hair down,
she's showing you why she's so mean.
Hiding behind the veil given by the creator of our lead crowns.
Giving out little bits of obscene,
just to keep from the blood gleam,
literally plucked out the fucking seams.
But the grin is good enough to warm the worried smile.
It's nice that you feel the need to make this peasant feel like a queen.
Now sit down for a minute,
I'd like to talk to you for a while.
Get to learn about person that's walking all of these miles.
---
Fuuuuuckckckckckc
If I had a some self respect, I'd pay them less and less and less.
Buy a new dress,
Wear my hair up,
instead of leaving it a mess.
Put some make up on my face,
sedate the whole mutant race.
Place in the hall of 'what the fuck did you just do there?'.
Next to the same names that taught her all of the certain ways to stare,
clothes that blare,
evident pertinent sexuality,
not picking boys or girls,
she likes a, bit of variety.
Instead of that she chose prosperous propriety.
Society is the one got her jumping over these obstacles,
skipping goals to make up for the days she sold.
Holding a tight grip on that handle of previous mortal scandals,
trying on the golden goddess sandals,
wishing to God that she had someone else to grab the handles.
Steer the wheel a bit so she could sit,
get away from the cracks in the street that trip,
the head grip up until it performs a full split.
Ripped up,
sucked up,
fucked up,
that's tough.
So instead of make up on the face,
she wears a cold stare,
heating up for two minutes then returning to the glare.
Unless the senses get warm with the radiation of another,
who thinks outside the source that plugs us into the mother.
Shit, she'd get ready to smother,
that individual in a rigid hold,
just to keep out of the mold.
Instead of clothes that blare,
she wears whatever's clean.
And what she means is anything that everyone's already seen.
Then with the hair down,
she's showing you why she's so mean.
Hiding behind the veil given by the creator of our lead crowns.
Giving out little bits of obscene,
just to keep from the blood gleam,
literally plucked out the fucking seams.
But the grin is good enough to warm the worried smile.
It's nice that you feel the need to make this peasant feel like a queen.
Now sit down for a minute,
I'd like to talk to you for a while.
Get to learn about person that's walking all of these miles.
---
Fuuuuuckckckckckc
Model A
Early morning rush to the head,
break bread,
make sense of whatever was once said.
Her life,
make that.
His strife,
take that.
Leaking slow drips like tree sap.
No map to help with the winding road called tomorrow.
The compass is broken but borrowed.
Fuck I can't continue.
---
The sun is too bright. Too hot. My skin it itchy against little green blades of grass. Spring was nice here. The nature swelled, purely happy for the warmth of the sun. Glowing brightly in it's presence. There's hands moving through my hair, but I'm not sure whose hands they are. Then his face comes in, blocking the harshness of the white. Clouding it out to black and instantly, I am alone with him here in the shadow of life. It's too easy to say things, words flooding my mouth onto the pavement like they were strung together just to amuse that other person. Bringing out your best and your brightest sentences, facts, anything, whatever you have that's worth something. It's all leaked out in perfect sync with theirs. Blah, perhaps this is just a dreams. There's no way this is reality. This isn't a place I've been, nor a place I've visited. No. This place is imaginary, and so is this person for all I know. This feeling suddenly starts to fade, and the white starts to blind me from that face.
Now I am alone. Alone and blind, incapable of even wanting to know what would happen next. Then, just when I think everything is about to disappear the face is back, as dramatically as it interrupted the blindness before. That smile is awfully soothing for one I hardly know. I'm rolled over onto my knees and then there was no more sun in my eyes. Yes, I could see very clearly this face. I returned it's smile immediately.
---
break bread,
make sense of whatever was once said.
Her life,
make that.
His strife,
take that.
Leaking slow drips like tree sap.
No map to help with the winding road called tomorrow.
The compass is broken but borrowed.
Fuck I can't continue.
---
The sun is too bright. Too hot. My skin it itchy against little green blades of grass. Spring was nice here. The nature swelled, purely happy for the warmth of the sun. Glowing brightly in it's presence. There's hands moving through my hair, but I'm not sure whose hands they are. Then his face comes in, blocking the harshness of the white. Clouding it out to black and instantly, I am alone with him here in the shadow of life. It's too easy to say things, words flooding my mouth onto the pavement like they were strung together just to amuse that other person. Bringing out your best and your brightest sentences, facts, anything, whatever you have that's worth something. It's all leaked out in perfect sync with theirs. Blah, perhaps this is just a dreams. There's no way this is reality. This isn't a place I've been, nor a place I've visited. No. This place is imaginary, and so is this person for all I know. This feeling suddenly starts to fade, and the white starts to blind me from that face.
Now I am alone. Alone and blind, incapable of even wanting to know what would happen next. Then, just when I think everything is about to disappear the face is back, as dramatically as it interrupted the blindness before. That smile is awfully soothing for one I hardly know. I'm rolled over onto my knees and then there was no more sun in my eyes. Yes, I could see very clearly this face. I returned it's smile immediately.
---
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
"For a poor shmuck, he's temptatiously fucking cute."
Man, I'm starting to hate this thing called thinking,
always out of breath feeling like the boat is sinking.
A demon with passion for the delicate souls he's drinking,
he'll have you in his arms before you can get to blinking.
Winking,
that smile was drawn up just for you,
now that those eyes are shining, tell me what I'm s'posed to do?
Caffeine habit,
got weak knees for the white rabbit,
trying to kick the the rock,
not smash it,
re-verberate,
retreat then watch the reaction!
Shitty compassion,
underneath the sole of your high heels,
high pitched squeals,
making all of the deals.
Stuck out a leg for some feels,
got in the passenger side,
but now look who's taking the wheel!
Got a diamond like eye,
cutting glass holes inside your mind,
your in-sides,
stop, rewind,
we won't be going there this time.
And before I lose the money for the fine,
I'll throw it at them in hundreds of dimes,
nickles,
but not quarters,
cause you know, those are mine.
Fuck the institutions,
I've got sunshine to feel blind.
---
Common sense society,
a social group of monotony,
Sorry,
please go away,
you just bother me,
and if I could, I'd stay,
but really I should leave,
don't follow,
see?
I've got so much to say,
but he's in my brain all day.
Constantly paving the way,
to the road I've been waiting to stray.
I mean follow,
of course that's a lot to swallow,
hallow souls ain't got no motto,
they just plug their ears and wallow,
waddle around like fucking ducks
shmucks,
stuck on the luck, fucks and bucks.
Deluxe limited edition trust,
tearing off your shirt from the bust,
extorting the desire to make a fuss.
He likes your smile,
yeah that's a plus.
There's only so many things you can say that fall under the word 'must'.
Only so many ways to lean the soul toward the lust.
The gluttony,
the hunger for acknowledgement,
get fucked up and leave.
The envy,
desire to have what's not yours,
so badly that you can hardly breathe.
The pride,
your ego when it starts to bleed.
the wrath is dementing,
it will be the greed to which you'll be descending,
till sloth is where your ending.
Pending the sins live within one another,
sisters and brothers,
mingling with your thoughts like intimate lovers,
Biting your neck till you feel smothered.
Holding your hand till you feel mothered.
Holding the gun to your head,
yeah nobody really ever wondered.
Evil can convince you to do anything once you're under,
the control of more than less of the whole picture,
your less than the whole thing,
to a house you'd be just a fixture.
A fixation on the mixture,
we've created with our many pantone elixirs.
It's not you that got me bad,
I just drank too much of that mixer.
Fixer upper of the pure boredom of...
what was I even..
---
We were walking on this dirt path on a mid afternoon in spring, chatting about different things, the specifics are too hard to remember now. The feeling of it all was warm, safe. He was leading me through these trees like he had some wonderful secret place to show me. We were practically running, but perhaps it was just the giddiness putting the extra step in our strides.
Now it's darker, the sun's emitting a red hue through the tree bodies. The path is just minutes away from being less than useful.I'm starting to wonder where we're going. I'm starting to wonder why we've gotten quiet.
There's a long stretch of road, we're walking outside some strange field, his hand moves over the skin on the back of my arm. I was leading now, not quite sure where we were going. I stop the cringe before it meets up with my face. For some reason, I don't feel safe any longer.
---
always out of breath feeling like the boat is sinking.
A demon with passion for the delicate souls he's drinking,
he'll have you in his arms before you can get to blinking.
Winking,
that smile was drawn up just for you,
now that those eyes are shining, tell me what I'm s'posed to do?
Caffeine habit,
got weak knees for the white rabbit,
trying to kick the the rock,
not smash it,
re-verberate,
retreat then watch the reaction!
Shitty compassion,
underneath the sole of your high heels,
high pitched squeals,
making all of the deals.
Stuck out a leg for some feels,
got in the passenger side,
but now look who's taking the wheel!
Got a diamond like eye,
cutting glass holes inside your mind,
your in-sides,
stop, rewind,
we won't be going there this time.
And before I lose the money for the fine,
I'll throw it at them in hundreds of dimes,
nickles,
but not quarters,
cause you know, those are mine.
Fuck the institutions,
I've got sunshine to feel blind.
---
Common sense society,
a social group of monotony,
Sorry,
please go away,
you just bother me,
and if I could, I'd stay,
but really I should leave,
don't follow,
see?
I've got so much to say,
but he's in my brain all day.
Constantly paving the way,
to the road I've been waiting to stray.
I mean follow,
of course that's a lot to swallow,
hallow souls ain't got no motto,
they just plug their ears and wallow,
waddle around like fucking ducks
shmucks,
stuck on the luck, fucks and bucks.
Deluxe limited edition trust,
tearing off your shirt from the bust,
extorting the desire to make a fuss.
He likes your smile,
yeah that's a plus.
There's only so many things you can say that fall under the word 'must'.
Only so many ways to lean the soul toward the lust.
The gluttony,
the hunger for acknowledgement,
get fucked up and leave.
The envy,
desire to have what's not yours,
so badly that you can hardly breathe.
The pride,
your ego when it starts to bleed.
the wrath is dementing,
it will be the greed to which you'll be descending,
till sloth is where your ending.
Pending the sins live within one another,
sisters and brothers,
mingling with your thoughts like intimate lovers,
Biting your neck till you feel smothered.
Holding your hand till you feel mothered.
Holding the gun to your head,
yeah nobody really ever wondered.
Evil can convince you to do anything once you're under,
the control of more than less of the whole picture,
your less than the whole thing,
to a house you'd be just a fixture.
A fixation on the mixture,
we've created with our many pantone elixirs.
It's not you that got me bad,
I just drank too much of that mixer.
Fixer upper of the pure boredom of...
what was I even..
---
We were walking on this dirt path on a mid afternoon in spring, chatting about different things, the specifics are too hard to remember now. The feeling of it all was warm, safe. He was leading me through these trees like he had some wonderful secret place to show me. We were practically running, but perhaps it was just the giddiness putting the extra step in our strides.
Now it's darker, the sun's emitting a red hue through the tree bodies. The path is just minutes away from being less than useful.I'm starting to wonder where we're going. I'm starting to wonder why we've gotten quiet.
There's a long stretch of road, we're walking outside some strange field, his hand moves over the skin on the back of my arm. I was leading now, not quite sure where we were going. I stop the cringe before it meets up with my face. For some reason, I don't feel safe any longer.
---
Saturday, April 20, 2013
subtit...
I should be getting some sleep
yes,
sleep.
Something you do to make time pass while your physical being gathers energy to continue the daily grind.
I've gotten maybe,
half what's recommended.
I have to be somewhere in 8 hours.
I should be resting.
---
Gold crushed smoked up bud luscious lip drug.
Smug interactions with a snide thug,
thoughts tug,
stuck on some shit like a thorn or a dagger,
dripping liquid gems and unadulterated swagger.
No matter, I've got a dime and nickle that says you don't care.
Smiling wide inside the vines with that dope stare.
Baby maybe we could get together play a game of truth or dare,
then we can really figure out the who, what, when and where.
Hold up,
don't put it there,
remember it's all said through the wild child,
naked and bare,
with soft curves and thick hair.
----
The pur of recognition,
your speech starts it's infinite repetition,
message liftin',
wondered how long before they'd all be spittin'.
Maybe too long,
but that's only called simple livin'.
---
Subtitles.
Her eyes are there but only when I close my own. Yeah, it's hard not to stare but I'm better off alone. Sitting stone, high upon my mossy green throne, still an silent in the morning but arise my mind at night with appetite.
The things I write don't make any sense.
Or they do but not right now and that's awful because it's just run on sentences with fillers and improper everything.
I couldn't get published if I was rich.
And that surely is saying a lot.
---
yes,
sleep.
Something you do to make time pass while your physical being gathers energy to continue the daily grind.
I've gotten maybe,
half what's recommended.
I have to be somewhere in 8 hours.
I should be resting.
---
Gold crushed smoked up bud luscious lip drug.
Smug interactions with a snide thug,
thoughts tug,
stuck on some shit like a thorn or a dagger,
dripping liquid gems and unadulterated swagger.
No matter, I've got a dime and nickle that says you don't care.
Smiling wide inside the vines with that dope stare.
Baby maybe we could get together play a game of truth or dare,
then we can really figure out the who, what, when and where.
Hold up,
don't put it there,
remember it's all said through the wild child,
naked and bare,
with soft curves and thick hair.
----
The pur of recognition,
your speech starts it's infinite repetition,
message liftin',
wondered how long before they'd all be spittin'.
Maybe too long,
but that's only called simple livin'.
---
Subtitles.
Her eyes are there but only when I close my own. Yeah, it's hard not to stare but I'm better off alone. Sitting stone, high upon my mossy green throne, still an silent in the morning but arise my mind at night with appetite.
The things I write don't make any sense.
Or they do but not right now and that's awful because it's just run on sentences with fillers and improper everything.
I couldn't get published if I was rich.
And that surely is saying a lot.
---
Feeling a little undertheweatherforever.
You smile brightest when the darkness hits your eyelids,
mind teetering on some divine shit.
I thought we were what you called divine, shit.
My lines aren't as heavy as my arms feel.
My minds isn't sharp like a thorn anymore.
No wonder, I've become less to adore,
a sign merely pointing at the door,
telling you to get out, jump and soar.
---
Poor demeanor,
feeling slightly hotter than a fever,
trying to get my hands out of the water heater.
Defeat her,
but mastering the mind will take a moment.
Get your ingredients together,
this recipes excellence is based on the components.
----
It's Christmas at the bong store,
4/20, tolk, that's whatcha minds for,
got more lines that a dollars got dimes,
plain for the sight but tangled up like vines,
wildfire rhymes,
spitting liquid, no, never mind.
mind teetering on some divine shit.
I thought we were what you called divine, shit.
My lines aren't as heavy as my arms feel.
My minds isn't sharp like a thorn anymore.
No wonder, I've become less to adore,
a sign merely pointing at the door,
telling you to get out, jump and soar.
---
Poor demeanor,
feeling slightly hotter than a fever,
trying to get my hands out of the water heater.
Defeat her,
but mastering the mind will take a moment.
Get your ingredients together,
this recipes excellence is based on the components.
----
It's Christmas at the bong store,
4/20, tolk, that's whatcha minds for,
got more lines that a dollars got dimes,
plain for the sight but tangled up like vines,
wildfire rhymes,
spitting liquid, no, never mind.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
I should try and write some bullshit here.
A latern held high,
shine light into the eye,
through the frontal lobe, down through the spine.
shine light into the eye,
through the frontal lobe, down through the spine.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder--
To be plain and honest, I can't sleep, and last night I assumed my restlessness was purely the adderall. Now, a while back I decided that if I were to pursue a career in creating stories I'd have to start thinking from all sorts different perspectives.
Yeah, I decided that I had to concern myself with other people's emotions to the point where I could understand almost any circumstance and be able to create probable fixes and such to create more comfort for those around me through my stories or just my words, even if they're not 234 pages long with an introduction.
In all honesty, it's mostly worked in my advantage. I'm more understanding than I could've ever been before. I looked through eyes and made conclusions based on how I've learned people think. From them telling me, from intimate conversations about head trauma and early morning nightmares. I thought through their irrationality, when on certain drugs, after consuming a certain amount of alcohol or even watching them drink too many cups of coffee. Being able to feel what they felt when whatever I said or did was occurring in their personal timeline of existence, considering all the little details.
Partially drunk, smoked through about four cigarettes in the last 20 minutes. Dull expression, bored although painted to absolute perfection. Whoever thought boredom could be so awfully sexy. It's clear that what I am about to say isn't going to do me any good, but because I could not understand where she currently was I would not understand why it ended up the way it would. Therefore, I'd be confused considering I personally ignored her feelings being conveyed slightly through facial expressions because I was too concerned for what I had to say. What I had to get off my chest. And of course, we all play games when we're bored. But who's to say victim? Not me, not this time, no, because I was the one who couldn't see it and she was the one who knew it the whole time.
None of this really makes any sense, to be blatant I can't sleep because something passed away in that room recently and it makes me nauseous just thinking about sleeping in that torture.
I participate in a pretty awful chain of events but I choose to keep it out of my hands. It still hurts me in the sense that I'm thinking from the perspective of the recently deceased. Particularly, a caged animal. One, that really can't feel any real emotions toward an owner but could exist alongside it respectively being taken care of. Unless, it wasn't.
I shouldn't feel guilty but I do. And maybe I should but I've shirked the responsibility once again. Or perhaps I just didn't care at all, but now that things have turned out the way they have I'm upset that I didn't care. I guess that's human enough.
Blue skin. Dried.
Ugh.
I can't even think straight, and I've got to work all day tomorrow.
Glory.
Time to make up some shit to try and get my face off this image.
----
Yeah, I decided that I had to concern myself with other people's emotions to the point where I could understand almost any circumstance and be able to create probable fixes and such to create more comfort for those around me through my stories or just my words, even if they're not 234 pages long with an introduction.
In all honesty, it's mostly worked in my advantage. I'm more understanding than I could've ever been before. I looked through eyes and made conclusions based on how I've learned people think. From them telling me, from intimate conversations about head trauma and early morning nightmares. I thought through their irrationality, when on certain drugs, after consuming a certain amount of alcohol or even watching them drink too many cups of coffee. Being able to feel what they felt when whatever I said or did was occurring in their personal timeline of existence, considering all the little details.
Partially drunk, smoked through about four cigarettes in the last 20 minutes. Dull expression, bored although painted to absolute perfection. Whoever thought boredom could be so awfully sexy. It's clear that what I am about to say isn't going to do me any good, but because I could not understand where she currently was I would not understand why it ended up the way it would. Therefore, I'd be confused considering I personally ignored her feelings being conveyed slightly through facial expressions because I was too concerned for what I had to say. What I had to get off my chest. And of course, we all play games when we're bored. But who's to say victim? Not me, not this time, no, because I was the one who couldn't see it and she was the one who knew it the whole time.
None of this really makes any sense, to be blatant I can't sleep because something passed away in that room recently and it makes me nauseous just thinking about sleeping in that torture.
I participate in a pretty awful chain of events but I choose to keep it out of my hands. It still hurts me in the sense that I'm thinking from the perspective of the recently deceased. Particularly, a caged animal. One, that really can't feel any real emotions toward an owner but could exist alongside it respectively being taken care of. Unless, it wasn't.
I shouldn't feel guilty but I do. And maybe I should but I've shirked the responsibility once again. Or perhaps I just didn't care at all, but now that things have turned out the way they have I'm upset that I didn't care. I guess that's human enough.
Blue skin. Dried.
Ugh.
I can't even think straight, and I've got to work all day tomorrow.
Glory.
Time to make up some shit to try and get my face off this image.
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Thursday, April 4, 2013
My face is a refrigerator.
To pizza, or not to pizza? You know, sometimes that really is the question. Or maybe, to ice cream or not to dairy products? Something like that.
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