Why is it so dark? The light's are off..?

I'm back from the deep, darkness of the human mind and consequences. It's been awhile... I always get relatively despondent and nostalgic in the winter around the holidays. I really don't like the cold. And the deadness of the outside world. Add in the pressure of family members you really don't remember but have to play nice with.. Like that weird 18 year old 3rd removed cousin that will probably be the next 40 year old virgin who stares at your ass all the time. I swear anytime I get the chance at the punch that everyone fakes innocene at how Uncle Terry spikes it with rum every year; I'm downing the whole thing.

I love family. I love Christmas. I love New Year's parties.... But everything leading up to it is so boring I think I could run off for a few days and this will finally be the time for them to realize I've run off. It's so boring they have nothing to do but pay attention the kids. No work, no school, no staying late at the office, no after school stuff...just family. And what do you do with the family all together? Last Christmas we exhausted all excuses for getting out of being with each other. So I have no idea what will happen this year.

My favorite part of the season though, I must include. When all the adults are blown, excuse me, tipsy, the children are tired and satiated with food and presents, and someone gets the bright idea to play charades. Oh my gods, it is the most pitful yet hilarious sight in the world to watch drunk people play charades. The kids are thouroughly entertained to, because they've never seen grown-ups acting so...silly.

So.... it snowed.

A Conversion Perhaps

Apprehension. Resent. Waiting, oh waiting. Praying to every god out there. Maybe even a little promise to a devil or two. Wanting more than anything for this fear to go away. Wanting this sinking feeling, this real feeling to go away.

Give me pain. Give me loneliness. Take whatever you want from me. Give me nothing in return save for this one....simple, tiny little wish. Give me blood. Give me agony. Make me wish for it to stop though really its what I need.

I can't care for that anymore. I can't think of anyone but myself and my family now. I understand. I understand Karma, you bitch. I'm getting the memo, Jesus. I'm feeling the stake, Allah. Buddha, oh little Buddha, what the hell happened to non-violence and forgiveness? I've learned my lesson. I will repent. Show me the light in this desolate world of all my sparkly material things.

I'll wear rags. I'll become a nun. OK. I can't start making promises I can't keep. Because my ambitions do not include celibacy piety. And I'm not saying my ambitions include several belts full of notches. No no. I want to be something great. I want to lead and help others. Do you think that will happen if this doesn't end? You bet your divine religious asses it won't. And do you know what will happen if this continues? My life will end. Along with the other. I'm not so rash or stupid to even contemplate suicide But figuratively, yeah. My life will end.

And I'll die inside myself.

I'm not the kind of person who could bounce back from this. And do you guys really need another bitter shell walking around this world unproductive as shit and living as though they've already died? No. I think not. So please. I've learned the moral of this story.

Make this waiting end!

White is the Color of Regret

It was taunting me. That white. It was glaring at me, screaming at me. Young, so very young. I don’t feel young at the moment, but I know that later on it will be so. I changed out of white and reached for black, but I stopped, and grabbed red instead. I wasn’t mourning, I was in pain.


Not the physical pain, that was nothing compared to what was going on in my head. At first it was the creeping, worming sort of regret. Now, it was agony; agony for the future hurt I will cause to myself and to the one close to me.


I’m a fool. I’m an idiot. I am still just a child.


I didn’t think that what could cause such pleasure would cause such guilt. Regret for giving so much, and so quickly, to someone who won’t matter years from now.


It was hot. The air conditioner was broken upstairs. I could see the guitars and electric piano in the corner. The carpet was itchy like insulation against my bare skin. What was I thinking? I don’t remember. What was I doing? I don’t remember that either. But I do remember liking it, but loathing it underneath everything else.


I remember being able to see a bit of sky out the window behind me. So blue. So dark. There was a white bird flying in the blue. I watched it until I couldn’t see it anymore, but still I watched it. I watched the bird fly past the roof tops of houses, over trees and towards the sea. There was a red spot on its chest. Was it just a red marking of beauty or a stain of blood?


Why does it continue to occupy my thoughts and haunt my dreams more than any other part of this?

Straight to Hell

They tell me I need religion. God will fix me. I'll go to confession. drink some wine, eat some bread, get dunked in water, and it'll all be good. Make my donations to the churh and secure a spot in the all-coveted utopia. 'Kay then... But uh, I think you have me confused with someone who cares...? See, having a little therapy, drinking alcohol, and eating etc. doesn't sound too bad; however, I think I'll pass. I don't exactly want to fix what they call my "sins." I'm a little prideful, but that's a given. Yeah, I'm a tad lusty, but what teenager isn't? I'm greedy, sure, but let's examine the rest of America shall we?



Let's travel that dark, dark road into the horrors and sins of society. It's not hard to choose right from wrong; its just that, well there are so many versions of good and evil. Gandhi VS PRS, Love VS Hate, Politicians VS People, Sex VS Celibacy, Drugs VS Pain, Palin VS Obama etc. I could go on and on. But I'm sure I've offended just enough people already to make things interesting. Religion is an escape for us that need hope like a fat kid needs calories, and Lois Lane needs Superman. Humans can't survive without hope. Hope, love, ambition, and opposable thumbs separate us from the animals we once were.


How can life be fulfilling if we don't live it how we want? Rules and principles are definitely needed; like religion. Religion is needed to keep people from feeling as alone as we all are, from getting depressed, and from over-throwing a government because it does not share the same values as the people. We all need something to believe in. So please, believe in it. Make your world brighter, let it make every day feel meaningful. But please. Please, please, please with a cherry on top---don't tell me what i need or should want. Don't transfer your own fears on me. If I go to a hell or a heaven it will all be on my shoulders. You need not worry for my soul. It's mine. Worry about yours.

Dreams

The world was crumbling. The sky was falling and the ground trembled and quaked. Clouds fell into vapors and her whole universe was enveloped in blue. What used to be the most solid thing in her world was breaking to bits. Eventually even the ground beneath her feet fell in. Instead of feeling weightless like you should when in the air; if felt like she carried the world with her. The kind of weight that as she fell it felt like her chest would cave in and she would be swallowed from the inside.


"Summers for the healing, child. Don't forget it. There's magic in the air that will rival any season. Senses are heightened and possibilities are easier to grasp in summer. Make the most of it. Always..."

"Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose...
Then let's lose ourselves even more"

"Cause you know and so do I. The high road is hard to find"

"I hate you"

"Never look back. Always look forward, and take my hand..."

"Reality is: nothing is for free, sex is too easy to get, along with drugs, and love is too hard to find."

---
The world was showered in gold. It made everything glitter and everything glow with life. It was the summer sun. Beautiful and painful, everything was better in the summer sun.

The girl stood alone on a white sand beach staring, just staring, at the surf. The waves were lazy today. No good for surfing but amazing to look at. She wished she was the kind of artist who could paint. The kind that could mix just that sort of cerulean blue, who could paint the white crested waves as the broke gently against the beach, the kind of artist that could get that shimmering arch of the sun just right with a stroke of a brush. It would be so much easier to make a piece of art that was worth a thousand words than describe the scene in a thousand words.

The girl's silhouette against the horizon seemed quite thin, frail even. Though she was tall and a an athletic build. She used to boast to everyone that all she needed was a beach, the ocean, and the sun, and she would be content. She was really wishing she wouldn't have boasted that.

Maybe if she had seemed a little more fragile, or a little less independent; she could have held onto people longer. People she loved and enjoyed. It used to be that the sea could always make her feel better, no matter the situation or the feelings. It used to..

This time, however, not even the ocean could heal her. She was alone. Alone with her thoughts. It seemed being in all this beauty and peacefulness intensified it all and made it so much worse. All she could see were mistakes, all she could hear were condescending remarks on how she should have lived, she couldn't speak anymore. Her voice was no longer her own. She couldn't feel; not the grit of the sand, not caress of the wind, not the rush of the waves as they pulled under...

She couldn't even appreciate her favorite place. The girl had been on that white sand beach next to that lazy ocean for longer than she could comprehend. Days and summers passed unending. Not that she could feel it, she could only bear witness.

Though most of her thoughts were agony, she could still remember good things, yearn for things, wish... Most of the time those thoughts were worse. Because she would never have them back, or have anything more than memories.

---
She was falling through space again. That felt almost like a dream. No...it was more like a memory of sorts. Time pulled at her-she couldn't tell anymore-was it her body or her soul that was weighted down by the Earth's memories? How could she, one girl, carry the weight of billions of years of remembrance? She would never find another ground to keep her steady and to take the weight from her'; only endlessness. Only oblivion. When she finally accepted the responsibility mankind had hidden from for years the weight was lifted and replaced by something else. A new burden. But this burden was different.

It was warm, and wrapped around her like silken wings . It made her weightless yet grounded at the same time. It was the burden of possibility. And with it, along with endless potential came a responsibility. A responsibility that was lost on, and never fully taken up by most of mankind. Our lack at seizing our capabilities and slacking in paying for our crimes is what destroys us. Forever settling for what we can get. All this the girl learned in a second, in a lifetime--in a moment of infinity.


"Come on. Come back to me. Let's go."

"Ah, insanity. Thy fruit is msuch sweeter than thy cousins reality."

"I love you."

"It's only one. Come on, you only live once. It'll be fun."

"Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl who would stare out her window at the world around her. She wanted to be part of that world. But she was scared. That world was full of monsters... Am I reminding you of someone? Anyway, one day a boy came by and saw the girl staring out the window. He wanted her to come with him, but she was too busy preparing for going outside to actually take the first step...."

---
The sun fell and crashed into the water. While the girl just stared over the lazy waves. It was night now. It hadn't been night in a long, long time... Maybe, she thought, maybe I can sleep now.

Listlessness can be the mother of invention too.

I feel like some poetry would do the soul good. My soul, your soul, the occasional wandering soul caught between here and there.. Whichever, I finally wrote some decent poetry and have decided to share. Possibly against better judgment, but oh well.

Corrupted

Children once so innocent

People once so pure

Have now been corrupted to think; justice, is anything but served

Watch the world unravel, doing nothing to stop it

Helping is out of the question

Just sit there, and watch it

I Can't

I can hear you, I can see you.

Though you are so far away, I can't touch you.

Why do you cry? Why do you lie?

Please don't waste your time.

Okay, you've had your show, now go.

I'm sorry, but no. You're still too far away.

Always Apologies

It's too late to apologize. It's too late to set it right again. I've fallen too many times. I've had enough. Do you feel better now, after you've hit me around? Just shut up. I don't care. I'm getting off the ground, and I'm walking out that door. It's too late to apologize.

So do not even try.

Dead on Arrival

Eyes wide shut

Mouths gaping closed

Fingers fisted touch,

Souless stars alighted on faceless mothers.

Minds fighting dead

Hearts beating cold

Feet walking still,

Dawning flowers' breathing through wet whispers of

Smoldering hopes and decaying dreams of,

Promises of love and long lives fading against backgrounds

Of forced smiles and closed lipped apologies of life lost.

War

Ancient skulls forced to grin for eternity

watch quietly.

Whithered trees forced to stand erect with magled branches

await the advances.

Blind mothers forced to live as their children die

belate their cries.

Naive sons and daughters forced to kill

see the blood spill.

While the gods watch the doomed

of Fates twisted loom.

This is a sample of what came out of a rainy day of utterly silent boredom. The boredom was so great it rivaled that which has always kept me sane. Music. I could barely even hear it over the sound of the silence ringing in my ears and the feeling of uselessness with nothing to do. If they are good please comment. If they are dreadful comment too. I have many more that could be written here..