I am There

I will meet you there, we will rendezvous,
not as much for cause as mutual escape.
Could you be concerned with tales of those I left,
to muse the birth of my display?
Don't touch me there, I cannot bear it,
such unmistakable indifference to what confines me.
Your eyes are hidden by the shutting of my own
and yet I know too well what I will find there.
Just hold me for now, we'll immerse ourselves
in the comfort of warmth and reside in such flair.
When the lights are dimmed to accomodate my faults,
the reason for existence ceases to find roots
in the moments signifying content. I cannot express the enormity
of lifelong renewal, how could you be expected to know
the depth of what irks me when I have lost
all sense of a changed proposal, muted by the very structure
I claim to dismiss. It was never good to dabble in pleasure
tainted by remorse, for what lies in wait of pleasure
should require some self-deserving entity of which I could not assist.
Remember me only as I longed to be in the clutches
of my unforgiving mind. I am only wise enough to recognise that
Change has discounted its foothold. I am there.

.....

I'm kind of pissed at the thought of this
Why did you bother with me?
Was it all for attention, or did i forget to mention
How obvious it all seems to me
That I was your game
You played just the same
As the rest that have all come before you
So I thought I should say
And maybe make your day
That I'm on to you
And you've only been
Fooling yourself.

The Things You said

You said to me in a memory why do I bother with you?
I said cause I love you and there's no one above you
Why would you cast me away?

You said to me there are plenty of fish in the sea
But why would I bother when your love is an ocean
Rolling and suffocating me.

So you went away and here I stayed
Hoping you'd come back to me
But you left me alone like an old broken home

For me there's no other
Not blood, breath or brother
Who will ever take your place

I will hold on to you in a memory or two
And think of you fondly sometimes
While drifting asleep, not awake but not deep

Because when you don't love me back
It goes under attack
And longing is what's taken it's place.

The Shape of Things to Come

Its easy to forget things when you’re not bound by schedules, time, places to be.

I am a solid figure with fast growing hair, and aching breaking bones. I assume any situation thrown my way. Teas with milk and honey, coffee with liquor, people with smiles – all of this I welcome into my life.

A woman downtown was charging a dollar to take a chance at winning 50. In order to win, you had to lift a bottle of beer with a fishing rod and make it stand on a tilted platform. It looked easy enough, and people lined up with their dollar bills in hand. “Karma and a dolla! Thas all you need!” The woman yelled to passersby. “Karma and a dolla to win! If you don’t have karma but you have a dolla, well thas my good luck!”

A bottle of rum surprised me with a swift kick in the face last night. “What the fuck are you doing?” it asked me, and I responded with a shrug and a shut the hell up. I fear I’m going to say it eventually though because it’s been hard. It’s been hard for me to think about anything but her these days. I distract myself with colors and shapes now. No longer is the phenomenon an accidental occurrence. I either picture the people around me as shapes and colors or I picture her.

Here is a snippet of my conversation with the shapes earlier that I quite enjoyed:
“Don’t you ever wonder how a full-grown baby can survive in the womb?”
“Its gotta be livin in an alternate dimension. For sure.”
“And when they’re ready they just… fall down from the sky and are once again in the womb.”
“Yeah, the way the discovery of gravity fell from a tree, babies fall from the branches of trees and are born. So in essence, babies are born into gravity upon birth!”
Other experiences we felt needed to be discussed were the common belief that people look like certain countries, specifically Cuba, in addition to how painfully delicious Doritos are (you see, when you bite into them, thousands of tiny shards explode in your mouth).

I am Loki

I am the one that will break you down to your core. Make you feel helpless and safe. You'll tell me all your secrets and whisper them to me like lullabies until you drift off to sleep with me on your mind.

I am the one who will make you forget about your vows. You'll compromise all of your ideals just to find out what desires might pass my lips and cause the shiver in your spine.

I am the one who will be broken and left here alone. I don't burn bridges, I tear them down and use it to build a new one in another place never leaving room for another to be rebuilt in it's place.

I am the one who will excite you. You'll think of me and nothing else until you see me again.

I am the one that will make you question yourself. You'll wonder how you came to that conclusion and if you're actually right.

I am the one who will never be forgotten. Even after I'm long gone I will cross your mind and cause a seizing in your chest as the memory takes hold. You will hate me but smile at the thought.

I am the one who will make you beg. For my attention, my affection, my love, your life. You will get none of these.

I am the one who will tear you down and leave you broken. This is what you need to rebuild yourself and start whole again.

I am Loki, mischief maker, heartbreaker.

Never let your guard down. I will get you too when you do.

just me and my mouth

There are those things we convince ourselves are a mere reaction of our bodies to the acknowledgement of our conscious awareness. I will smoke this joint when I am sick or in pain because I have known it to relieve such nuisances before. On the other hand, I would have still smoked it, pain and sickness aside, so am I justifying the blazing or am I actually relieved of my pain? Regardless, it seems to be working and in this phenominally inspiring and particular instance, my body is in sync with my mind. I will call this "stoned", never much else to say in front of company and now I am cautious due to the fact that I am "stoned", "so fucking stoned, dude", and that I am not alone. The most critical details of my life are lost only because I have managed to visit my past enough to no longer know where the memories end and the dreams begin. I can't tell you this, you might think I'm crazy. Do you? I'm sure. "Stoned", thinking it all, allowing it to push through the mesh of overwhelming obscurity and finding my centre somewhere between the awareness and the awkwardness. Who displays that self that thrives just as much on the awkward, to revel in such human delicacies? Better yet, who admits to it? Now, have you noticed how much i mention myself? Sickening

Where Do We Go? nobody knows...

I feel enlightened, riveted by the enormity of what it might mean to be alive. I have been compromising my ideals, intent on objectifying myself in the light of others approval. What could generate a previously unwanted desire for something memorable, not only to me but to my memory of this world, is only ever noticeable when we choose to take notice.
Little things, appreciate the little things. Embark on the journey that you intended to make but never quite found the time to live the life you spent your time working toward. There is no better judgement of what ails you and what drives you than yourself and your own inclinations. Do not criticize yourself, compromise with your circumstances and discover new ideals, push yourself to know what it is you need to gain in order to banish what objectifies you. RAGE!REVOLUTION! Now is better than never knowing, and perhaps an edge of lunacy will overcome trepidation. You will encounter those obstacles instilled by authoritative figures, the constant fear and anger is not your doing and should not be acknowledged for sake of REALISATION! And yes, Megyn, you will be tempted but only so much of what tempts you can be awarded for that feeling of enlightenment.

This feels like a holy confession, I hope I dont get cast down to hell.

As I said from the very beginning, I really do love each and every one of you. It's weird how we are all living such different lives in different places, yet we think so much alike. I wish i started out our relationship with the truth, but I never intended to come on a second night or the numerous nights that followed. Scracthing your heads in puzzlement is expected after that sentence, it's ok, and honestly you should all hate me for it but that's just my nerves talking. My closest friends on chat already know, and I'm thankful they have kept it a secret til now. I remember the guilt I felt and the relief I felt after telling them. After the pulling out of hair, and the vomiting, it actually all ended up just fine. As I hope everything in my life will. So, I lied about my appearance. There. Stone me to death if you wish, but now I am free of the remaining guilt for lying to the rest of you. Know this though, anything and everything I have ever said to any of you was all the truth, sadly. I wish I could have lied about my crappy existence as well but I guess some of us aren't made for lying.

Now, I'm taking the cowards way out. I know I had promised to come on for one final "chat" with you all but it didn't seem right. To me, nothing is final, especially any of you. I meant it when I said from the beginning that I loved you all. You've been more friend that I have ever had in anyone in my 24 years of living. You've helped me through the toughest crisis of my life even without physical contact. I can't thank you all enough for that and I only hope I can one day return the favor for you. If you hate me, that's fine too. I understand. Hope to talk to you all once again sometime soon. Take care and stay hungry.....hungry for love, because one day it WILL be feeding time :D

It has become apparent

What is left to say when I have already proposed every possible scenario to contend with what might be implied. It wouldn't matter as much had it never needed to be implied and yet we cannot fathom one such scenario. What possesses me to have a conversation you were never invited to is only left for me to discover and yet this affects you if you choose thus. I cannot program such choice but I can visualise the thoughts that lead there, and I have. Those exact thoughts, as well as others that might have eventually lead to the same conclusion. It is then apparent that what life I live cannot be characterised as living, not for the sake of dismissing actual intent. Be gone, willful caution, I have yet to find release.

Who would have thought?

We rummage through the elements that make up our lives, trying to pinpoint the things that make us different, unique. We do this, mind you, in the event that someone should seem interested enough to ask, to continue reading. Someone, anyone. Okay, maybe I have a few preferences but isn't that what makes me unique, different? Should that someone come along and then display such desired interest and if I find myself in a turmoil of trust, should I encourage them to walk away?
The most incredible thing we have managed to do is not that which we convince others we want but the ability to convince ourselves. Where you find yourself amongst the holy infidels, might you not aspire, even slightly, to such cause? Regardless of your reasoning, of which ours is great, there is only so much that is ignited by reason, of which all else falls to excuse.
I will walk away from the knowledge I have of myself to become more acquainted with your own knowledge of me. If this proves to be as what was the convincing, then I do not know what I want.

At the end of the night

I don’t like the idea of sleep. I once dreamt of nothing but static, there’s nothing more annoying than static, and there it was in my dreams. On a different night, I dreamt that i was reading a very boring book. I don’t remember what the story was about, I just remember thinking “oh god, this is so boring, i should stop,” but I didn’t. I couldn't.

I'm going away for a little bit. When I can, I promise I will write to keep you all updated. Hopefully my journey and travels won't be as boring as the book in my dream.

I love you.

The Proverbial Glass

I know in my heart what is essentially true and what can only be assumed. I hurt my own feelings through self-analysis. At least I'm not delusional. I would love a sign, maybe an honest opinion of where I am right now in all of this. Everyone says I've got my head on right but this doesn't mean that I can imagine things to be better and that they will be. I've always been a strong believer in never having to beg for anything. So maybe that's where I went wrong.

Right now, at this moment in time, the glass if half empty.

As I Sit, Contemplating

Perhaps a level of introduction is necessary. Perhaps yes, although I am inclined to think that we are selfish enough to ask for the sake of wanting.

I might not be very impressive to the population that bordered the distinction between intellect and articulate but now it needs to be decided what impression I would have wanted you to gather from my dowdy appearance. Perhaps she is creative. Perhaps she has acknowledged the wisdom of the ages and perhaps she will still conquer the suspended disbelief she finds herself in at the sight of kindness. Perhaps yes, although it is more likely that all I will accomplish is selective to that selfishness I could never shake. What right shall I then claim to victimise the very people who created the need to know something other than what I obediently relayed in such well rehearsed procedure. These people, your people, my people, the people of the immediate world and those who might have suggested we concern ourselves less with the object of affection to realise a subject of resolution. That which will uphold the rights of humans, not their affiliations, that which will sustain a testimony of humility and grace, the foreword to wisdom, that wisdom she cannot possess unless of course it ceases to be confined to the walls of her head.

I beg you pay me no pardon when the wiles of a meticulous specie may infiltrate the unknown heart of a lion. There is no cause when we have forgotten what seperates it from intent. Perhaps I will be mistaken.