thought I'd note the day I prayed to God.
I don't know which God. I don't know whether they were listening.
Whether they were on lunch break.
I would love some sleep. It's 1.04 am.
But my mind is not so kind tonight. And I have a new mattress.
My bedroom seems completely foreign. I never thought previously that my clock ticked so loudly.
I miss the smell.
And the feel.
And the sound.
Sound is everything. Words are everything.
Presence is everything.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
A Smile.
Today; I smiled.
At first, when you think of the action, it's not all that attractive. A furtive twitch of the lips, before they spread and bare teeth to the world. But this smile was a good one. A smile of relief. And a smile of acceptance. New events allow old events to pass out of the lime light. Time travels faster.
I have no regrets.
I've loved every moment.
I'll always love them. I'll keep them in my back pocket.
For a rainy day. Or a warm day. Or an inbetween day. Or a lonely day. Or a long day. Or a short day. Or a busy day; when I just need a damn break from everything and everyone in the room.
I had them out on my desk today. While I wasted the sunshine.
They kept me company, you know?
At first, when you think of the action, it's not all that attractive. A furtive twitch of the lips, before they spread and bare teeth to the world. But this smile was a good one. A smile of relief. And a smile of acceptance. New events allow old events to pass out of the lime light. Time travels faster.
I have no regrets.
I've loved every moment.
I'll always love them. I'll keep them in my back pocket.
For a rainy day. Or a warm day. Or an inbetween day. Or a lonely day. Or a long day. Or a short day. Or a busy day; when I just need a damn break from everything and everyone in the room.
I had them out on my desk today. While I wasted the sunshine.
They kept me company, you know?
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
There is no point.
In hearing lists of good things about yourself. Or recieving compliments. Or smiles. Or kisses.
Because the only people that ever give them, or say those things, they are the ones that end up leaving you. At the end of the day, they are the only ones gone.
Because the only people that ever give them, or say those things, they are the ones that end up leaving you. At the end of the day, they are the only ones gone.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
I'mma
BARE MY TEETH.
GET RID OF THIS SOUND.
SUCCEED.
AND BE SO FUCKING HAPPY.
AND YOU'RE GOING TO COME BACK.
AND I'LL HAVE EVERYTHING I'LL EVER NEED.
I need patience.
God. I need patience.
Maybe I'll just count every time I lose it.
That's a good idea.
there's nothing artistic about this blogging anymore. its only insight. its only therapy. i'm not gonna ask for help, because i'm proud. and scared.
so very very scared.
GET RID OF THIS SOUND.
SUCCEED.
AND BE SO FUCKING HAPPY.
AND YOU'RE GOING TO COME BACK.
AND I'LL HAVE EVERYTHING I'LL EVER NEED.
I need patience.
God. I need patience.
Maybe I'll just count every time I lose it.
That's a good idea.
there's nothing artistic about this blogging anymore. its only insight. its only therapy. i'm not gonna ask for help, because i'm proud. and scared.
so very very scared.
GIVE IT BACK. the other side of winter.
I've never screamed so loudly.
The rain has never fallen so quietly.
The wind has never shown such ferocity.
And the trees have never missed the winds beating quite as much.
The summer misses the beating of butterflies wings, so it hides itself under a winters coat. Becomes white with terror, hiding under blankets of snow, denying the truth with a chilly exterior.
And Autumn is an irony that I've never really wanted to face. A force fed change of mother nature, when all that lives with her desperately wants to cling to the warmth and life of the seasons preceedings.
Oh God I hate it. I hate it. I HATE IT. I HATE IT. I HATE IT. I HATE IT. I fucking hate it. World, you deserve your disasters, you deserve your global warming, and your hurricanes, and floods, and fires, and drought. But the people that live on you. The people that work tirelessly for you. The people that just want everything to work out. They don't deserve your change for dead in autumn. They don't deserve your lifeless winter, with its barren streets. I shouldn't have to compensate with the artificial warmth of a lit fire in my house, when you could just let the sun shine through and warm my face.
I hate how you work. I hate how you revolve and move and coexist with other systems. I hate your placement in the solar system. I hate you so much it makes me feel ill.
And I can't help but hate now.
I can't help but cry now.
I can't help it.
At all.
My heart wells, and is lodged in my throat.
I can't breath.
I can't see straight.
The rain has never fallen so quietly.
The wind has never shown such ferocity.
And the trees have never missed the winds beating quite as much.
The summer misses the beating of butterflies wings, so it hides itself under a winters coat. Becomes white with terror, hiding under blankets of snow, denying the truth with a chilly exterior.
And Autumn is an irony that I've never really wanted to face. A force fed change of mother nature, when all that lives with her desperately wants to cling to the warmth and life of the seasons preceedings.
Oh God I hate it. I hate it. I HATE IT. I HATE IT. I HATE IT. I HATE IT. I fucking hate it. World, you deserve your disasters, you deserve your global warming, and your hurricanes, and floods, and fires, and drought. But the people that live on you. The people that work tirelessly for you. The people that just want everything to work out. They don't deserve your change for dead in autumn. They don't deserve your lifeless winter, with its barren streets. I shouldn't have to compensate with the artificial warmth of a lit fire in my house, when you could just let the sun shine through and warm my face.
I hate how you work. I hate how you revolve and move and coexist with other systems. I hate your placement in the solar system. I hate you so much it makes me feel ill.
And I can't help but hate now.
I can't help but cry now.
I can't help it.
At all.
My heart wells, and is lodged in my throat.
I can't breath.
I can't see straight.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
How?
I used to remember a time where my vision was clear. Everything that I needed was within my grasp. A short distance walk. A bike ride out of town.
But it seems there is always room for change.
You think that you can pull all your seperate pieces of life together, and hope that it magically pans out the way that you planned. I stare at blankly tv screens, infiltrated by scenes of disaster, as if in my heart these images are invading my memory, misplacing fondness for tension. You reach out for bonds of family, and then realise. They're scattered.
Come back, ya?
Selamat malam.
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