How do cycles cease? Do they ever?

When I was young, I relished the present, because I adored it. I didn't care about the progression of time, because It didn't mean anything to me.

Now, it's all I can think about.

And what makes happiness? Is it what I gain, or is it what I can let go? Why is every facet of every second of every day so fucked up and convoluted?

Release in the purest sense of the word...

As I sit here, in complete silence, I realize that there is no end. There can be no end, because an ending is satisfaction and conclusion. There may be an instantaneous break, a disconnection that happens faster than the mind can perceive... but there will never be an end.

In Church...

My desires are two layers deep, chewing at each other in a catch twenty-two.

I want to be free, to let everything go, to leave on my own.

I want to be wanted, to be begged away from leaving.

The strength for release is built by the fortitude in containment.

If I left, whether by movement or by finality, would it matter? Would anything stop?

If I stayed, would I get anything I wanted, would I find an answer?

If I leave, would anyone care that I've gone?

If I stay, will every choice I make be wrong?

I'm told it was my obligation...

I woke up today feeling the same as any other. The aches are meaningless because my life has been disconnected.

I have a heavy past, and I think about it constantly. Someone called me today and wanted me to see them. It seems that all I have left are two choices: To be around people who make me feel worthless, people I can't relate, who don't bolster me in any way. Or, I can choose the other path; I can be taken advantage of and used, tossed aside at the next convenience. I usually choose the latter, because I'm cynical and disillusioned. I was going to choose that today... but I changed my mind.

It wasn't because of an epiphany, or because of a rush of confidence. It wasn't because I realized my self-worth, and knew I was better than this. It wasn't because I could no longer put up with the bullshit that gets thrown at me by other people. It's because I gave up.

I don't care about making friends, or keeping them. I don't care about strengthening connections, and I don't care about growing. I don't want to progress any more, and I don't want to accumulate experience. I don't want to walk down this path any more.

I just want to stop. I want everything to stop. I want to go to sleep tonight, and wake up tomorrow in someone else's shoes, or not wake up at all. This is what my life has become: Not a sullen, downtrodden acquiescence, but a frustrated, lackadaisical life based on ultimatum. I don't give a fuck what other people think, even if they see me as a beggar, living on the street. No one knows a damned thing about me, and nobody cares to find out.

I don't want any more addictions and I don't want any more plans. I don't want the things that are promised to me, then taken away at the last moment, like a lighthouse switching off as the storm approaches. The choices I've made, I've made for myself. Not for others to be guided by, or to be used as a model... I simply made them for myself because I stopped caring. But, this has been viewed as influence, as if I think what I do is right. There is nothing in my daily life that makes me happy in any way, and I do all I can to escape from it. I don't think apathy is cool or mysterious. I don't think that sorrow is a style.

The first girl I ever loved was someone I drove away. The second died, and I have no idea how to deal with that. The third is a whimsical slut, and knows nothing of who I am or why I drive forty-five minutes just to spend a night with her.

All I can do is what I do every night. Sit here, loop the same CD over and over, and try to find a distraction. I don't want the emptiness of physical intimacy. I don't want the emptiness of addictive behavior. I don't want the emptiness of wearing a shroud, and watching those around me act like puppets. I don't want the emptiness of never defending myself because I see no value in my reflection. How can so much vapidity build up inside of a void?

I thought that these feelings would end... I thought that I could let things go. But, it's been so many years, and the thoughts never change. The manifestations of my angst and frustration follow every action I take. They cling to every person I meet. They're driving me, like they have countless times before, into a suicidal rage. If I broke an apex, and did something irreversible, would it matter to anyone else, save for their own condescention and arrogant thinking?

I live inside of an abstract maze, built by insanity and isolation. I'm unstable, unreliable and incoherent. I have to be me every day. I have to wake up and look at myself, and wonder what happened to me.

It's not a problem with a solution, or a riddle to solve. It's my life, a neverending and increasingly complex swirl of erratic impetuosity. I don't need advice, or tips on how to think or live day-to-day. I need someone to care... and not in an unattached, cautious, judgemental way.

Everything is a commercial, we advertise our memories...

I'm erratic, nonplussed and aimless. Try as I might, I can't find a target. Inside a static life, I'm striving to construct a sign. But you can't build things like that... you can't build a purpose. I'm stuck in the motion of falling, with nothing else to do. And it's the only choice, anyway.

If there was a way to deviate from madness, I'd surely like to know. If you think you can do better, then tell me which way to go.

I knew I'd lose you...

The 'me' who was lost inside a storm.

It's gut-wrenching, feeling the end of something important. It starts as the desperate want to turn back time and reverse mistakes. It grows into fear, anger, loathing and insanity. It ends in a flash of self-destruction. And then it's gone.

With so many chasing something they don't even understand, I stand still, miles off the path, wondering why they keep running....

I stand here, surrounded by the beginning of an end.

The Fly Savior...

Hullaballoo, I rushed down to the lake,
A savior.
I prepared a ship and said a little prayer,
For I was scared.
The sun shone and the lake flowed.
Sunflowers – sunflowers the flies die.

But today I will save as many flies as I can.
In each hand I carry a net - determined.

I throw them into the abyss
And try to draw in the flies
Before the smolts reach them
Where they combat the water.

And so the day passes.
Going onboard, I had begun fighting the stream
Which had already killed so many.

I can't breathe, getting heavier with every wave.
I need a miracle
Because I'm drowning sins.
I try to get aboard.

I pull ashore and salvage myself to the beach.
Dry myself on a hot rock.

I throw myself into the abyss
And try to draw in the flies
Before the smolts reach them
Where they combat the water.

Gustur, all soaked.
Frakkur senses the boat is out of the strongest current
And the land slowly approaches.

He is both aboard
Sea and land saving
The flies that die here.
Though especially himself.
Eternal war, peace nowhere.
Someone has to be sacrificed.
The days are long.

Beauties can die...

To hide yourself underwater, until everything that breathes forgets your name... It's so hard to do.

We buy and sell the dread from which the skull and bones commit...

--Are you waiting at the last post
More than all the vagrant eyes
No one hits the places that eye thought I could
Words that turn and make me realize

And you can't even begin to change me
I left a lot behind the other day
The other way

Feelings of negation what the mind fields
Oceans and the places brought upon
Heat of angels climbing higher flier flame
Words that turn and keep me satisfied

And you can't even begin to change me
I left a lot behind the other day
The other way

All over now this feels
What follows?
All over now it's real it's real it's really living somehow
All over now meaning it's really really wasting

In the mouth in the back=


There's a threshold that takes the negligent sacrifice of hindsight as a catalyst. There's a point on a cliff somewhere above a lake that's sharper than the fall. There's a violent, visceral bloodied fist slicing like a blade through my brain. There's a point in the line that breaks up behind you, and you can't turn back to save your faith.

What the hell is going on?

I only slept for 4 or 5 hours because I had a dream, and it suddenly woke me. It isn't often that I have a dream I remember so clearly, and it isn't often that it jolts me awake with meaning. So here goes.

In my dream, I was walking through the woods with Mark and Jonathan. We were doing what we always do: looking for a purpose. We found a tunnel that led underwater, so we tried to swim to the other side. We couldn't make it, but I kept going when they turned back. I guess I drowned, or something, but when I came to, I was a fish. A tiny little fish. And I met Linnea as a fish, because she was one too. It was nice... happy, for some reason. We lived underwater, and those little pecks you see fish in a fish tank do to get particles of food became somehow romantic. As if they were soulful kisses. After living down there for I don't know how long, we decided to return to the surface. When we did, we both became Human again.

When I turned back into myself, I thought that everything was uneasy and unsettling. Like everything I did gave me motion sickness. I was in a car with Julie and Mark, and both were making fun of me for getting sick riding down the 234 Bypass ramp. When I would look down out of the window, all I could see was a precipitous drop, filled with millions of other cars far below. It made me desperately want to go back underwater, to being a fish.

I met Linnea as Human and we went on a date. I don't remember much of what we did, but it involved driving around and me always feeling like I didn't know what to do next. It made me feel as if I was only supposed to know her as a fish. Then, it started to rain. It rained for hours, and quickly became a huge, apocalypse-style flood. Everything started to be pulled underwater. We tried to get back to my house on foot, leaving the car to be safe. The closer we got back to my house, the more distant she became and the more I felt like I was annoying her. Along the way, on the top of a dam, she took my hand and gave me the ability to run back the rest of the way, walking on water like a miracle. And once we got to my house... she left. She wouldn't look at me, and I didn't know what to say, so she left. I went back to the dam, stared off of it for awhile, and jumped off into the water. I drowned. And that's when I woke up.

A lot of it sounds gay... but it was one of those dreams that hits you with something you never expected. My first conscious thought was one of utter sorrow, of longing and desperation. All I could think about was how I didn't want to lose her, and how she's the only person who would really understand me. And I fucked it all up, like I fuck up everything else. All I can do is fuck things up. It felt way too real, jumping into that inundating flood, throwing everything away....

Nothing more to say...

I've been clinging onto meaning in a meaningless way,
And I can't do anything about the world shining gray.
The future marches forward as we're aimlessly bred,
We make it real, I shot to kill and aimed straight at my own head.

If you still want me, please forgive me...

Alice died.

And all this time I, I never really thought there was anything for me. Then, I pulled it over myself like a thick swamp. I'll choose to sleep under leagues of muck, because there's no Sun up there for me... just light reflecting off of other people.