I Am, Regretably, Not a Robot.

Emotions. Too many to handle, and caught in the crossfire. Balance and chaos, in my own, and all around me. Glimpses of tantalizing fantasizes manifested to flesh, so alive and powerful, suppressed under fear and exhaustion.

Just another day I don't have the energy to change myself. Another day I retreat, folded in upon myself, surrounded by my own frustrations and fears, steeped in them; stewing in them.

Planning, dreaming, hoping, for a better tomorrow. Dreaming far beyond myself; for the benefit of humans everywhere. Just a dream, shattered by the words, actions, ideas, and practices of society. The blind eyes, the screams ignored, the justifications for wrong. Just another frightening day in our stained, sparkingly utopia.

The sickness infests my heart. How can I change myself, when I can't even change the world?
I should believe that I can change myself in order to change the world. But how can I change myself when the world can't seem to be changed.

How can I change the world when I can't seem to speak at the right time, or loud enough? How about when no one really hears what I'm trying to say. My simplest statements, misinterpreted. Why bother explaining? Belittled and attacked over the mundane. Assumptions made quickly. Why bother explaining?

Why bother explaining? Why bother pursuing it? Should I ask for forgiveness when I see no wrong in what I've done? Should I ask for forgiveness for misinterpretations? No. No reason. Perhaps I should explain, but what gaurantee do I have my words would have an attentive and interested audience? A life time of being shy, and a life time more, it would seem.

Exhaustion. Depression. Reverting back to trying to be a robot. Why? Because it is all too much to handle.No words convey adequately what I feel. No name for it, and the roots go deep.

Maybe I should not sleep until I go absolutely insane.  Or sleeping for all of an eternity.

Sometimes all I want, all I need, is a fresh start. Or a mostly fresh start. Something new, to not twist and tangle. Something to keep wondrous, passionate, and beautiful.

To lay my head down, is the closest I'll probably get to peace. For now at least. To lay my head down, is the closest I'll get to my dreams, pressed against the edges.

To lay my head down, to sleep.

Observer or Participant?

I watch silently, I try to pick up on all the nuances. I try to immerse myself in the thoughts and emotions of other people on occasion, but I'm not that brave very often.

Am I cause, or effect? Am I a result or am I just the question? Am I a journey, or a destination? The air or the wind? The tide or the water? An idea or just a thought? The source of light or just the lack of darkness?

What is the right thing to do? Truly, it seems it is not up to me. For I am just the observer...

As much as I want to pretend my presence has not impact, I am just lying to myself. But the true magnitude of my piece in the playing puzzle, is unanswerable.

It might just be up to me after all.

Burn Again

Phosphorus, or flint. Lighter Fluid, gasoline, alcohol; I don't care which.

I never knew how easy it would be to set it all on fire. I guess I packed it all with kindling. Grinding the lumber to saw dust, gives it that extra little explosion. Soaked in accelerant. It only took one spark to blow it all to hell.

Left to pick up the pieces again.

Alive again. The smoke; the chemicals. My head pounds with the heady fumes. Sickness; this was too easy. It burns to much to be a dream.

All my feelings burned away. The memory still hurts though. Blinded. Reeling.

I fall dead. I wither and crisp.

I rise; Pheonix. Another level transcendent. Another lesson to learn, until, I burn again.

Ignis Solus.

Watching God Go Mad

Insane. Not quite adequate to describe what is happening, but it is the best word.

What is the best word when the world seethes and pulses with a madness so great, it feels like god has gone crazy and decided, you know what, fuck this place. It needs redecorating. People are faster to direct and change than mountains. A rubix cube to play with, and not a vast painting. Pick it up, twist turn see how much more colorful and confusing it is now and give up again.

Then the rubix cube walks away and starts thinking it is some great golf ball in some weird pinball machine. Silly cube. They never contemplated much what a post-human existence would be like for them. Hell, I doubt they think about what makes them human to begin with.

Human rubix cubes. I don't even want to think about the subliminal symbolism slithering in that simile. Or was it metaphor? Does it really matter if it is still symbolic, no matter what itchy word you assign to describe it?

Of course, god is debatable at the best of times. Maybe it isn't a god going mad, but more us going mad. Rebels without causes, shock value in spirituality as fashion. Nihilistic self doubt, yet still a yearning for meaning and a clear definition of right and wrong, reduced to a wobbly gelatine they try to sell you and tell you its the body of Christ. I'm no cannibal, but...

Actually that is a hell of an idea. Jello shot Jesus blood. With little crumbs of bread in them, so you can get all your god redeeming soul cleansing symbolic cannibalism done in one! Jesus Jello Shots! God loves a drunk!

Or does he? Supposedly, but since god has gone mad, I'm not sure we feel up to asking that question. Maybe his dad was an alcoholic. Maybe his mother was a good woman trying to make ends meet, yet still managed to be in denial about, reality in general.
All the kids at school made fun of him because they heard the stories. Not really stories. Their parents said something about a fruit roll-up blowjob.

So god went and created a god damned universe just to go mad, and destroy it to teach them a lesson. That isn't very nice at all. Very self centered, wouldn't you say?

God is mad therefore man is mad and thus...

The implications are vast.

Pain pt. 1

Have you ever had someone fear you? Not because you were necessarily a scary person, but just because you reminded them of someone they knew, or thought they knew? Was it because you had similar tastes, or was it the fact you are, no matter how hard you try to fool yourself, only human? Did it ever make you angry when they tried to change you, help you with your problems, when they couldn't even admit they ever had any problems in the first place?

Have you ever lost what you thought was everything, only to find to your horror, that you were still breathing? And then found out you still had something left. Not much, but something. Then, did you find that something betrayed you; vanished, faded, and broke? And yet, you still keep on breathing.

Have you ever found out the truth of a situation, and found that you were screwed no matter what you did? You'd be cast as a villain in eyes, of people who cared about you, no matter, what, you did? Did you find that a decision would be made with or without you, and the blame would still fall upon you? Did you find that doing nothing, was the best thing to do?

Have you ever been vilified for being honest? Were you honest because you thought you were helping? Did you feel guilty for not saying anything about anything sooner? Were you afraid that everything you ever felt for a certain person was gone, and that part of you might have been using them? Ever been vilified for being too nice, when you were so scared it was all lost?
Have you ever been afraid to let go of someone, because you thought they would disappear all together? What if you were afraid that you would forget everything? How about being isolated and alone even more that you were before...

Have you ever felt undervalued? By people who have self esteem issues, and can only seem to let go of themselves enough when the get drunk? How about finding out they want to use your friendship to take from people who have more than they do? What if you do not want to be used for profit?

Have you ever discovered the truth again? Finding that, after all this time, you are still the villain, you are still at fault, you are still the social retard that needs directions on what to do? Have you ever recognized how insecure everyone around you is? Have you ever recognized how people cope with their insecurity? One-up, when i was young, my daddy could throw your daddy over the moon, when in France, at my distant cousins mountain mansion, what a lovely day for a wedding, which is definitely better than staying in America, as a matter of fact, the physics behind it is quite simple and useful, congress is staffed by retards, North Korea are highly intelligent but unguided, you want to use a high speed flash and a color gel, now I've just got to sign up for classes, that reminds me of a story when I was in the Marines, just stop me from killing someone I love.

Have you ever had 2 trusts broken with one stone? Did you pretend nothing changed, while letting everything that could have been so beautiful, wither and rot? Are you still glad you did it after so much isolation?

Have you ever tried to shine so brightly, only to find the blind only have eyes for the train-wreck?

Have you ever slipped your mind long enough for someone to get close, use you, and slip away?

Have you ever listened to someone say one thing, and then watched them do something else? How many times have you watched this happen? How many time have they fallen, and how many times do they just do it again? How long until they realize, for the longest time, you have been there for them?
Have you ever suffered in silence, because it was the right thing to do?

Have you ever, had to stop, and let yourself recover from the rusty scars the world has left upon your heart? Are you too busy keeping the wounds fresh, to clean them so they can heal, at long last?

End Part 1...

They Call It, We Sing it.

We writhe, constantly, struggling for a comforting angle and an explosive release, which eludes our constant dance; our spasms are in vain, a hopelessly decadent self-deception, filled with our greatest desires and most significant fears.
Alas, we spin. We spin our own way, we crash and collide and bounce away. Nothing ever really stays the same. Our careless half heart pursuits managing, some how, to expand into a potentially serious situation for which we have not prepared, in anticipation for not really giving a flying fuck about the outcome in the first place, for being indifferent to the outcome. Not needing an outcome but applying by halves, then becoming alarmed when the pace steps up and unseen machinery chugs along.
Fate and choice intertwine. Some call it Karma, I call it the explicit inescapable reality. I am where I am because of my choices, but I could have made different choices. It is impossible to truly comprehend "what if" because each decision echos for an eternity, and after its done, you can not have done it any other way. Mistake or not, it's already been done, and only you could have done it the way you did it. Live with the regret or learn a lesson and improve.
Or let fate drive the car, just done be surprised when you find yourself on an island built with bad decisions, or in a ditch of existental crisis. Hell, it can be an existential crisis anywhere at any time. Don't ask the question if you really think you don't care about the answer. But don't fool yourself into thinking we can train the responses, be conditioned and altered to perfection.

Dr. Pill and his sexually deviant mistresses all agree, that the drug for you, is LSD.

Billboards preaching the end of civilization while civilization is distracted with glowing rectangles. All hail the all mighty rectangle.
Our Rectangle, who art from heaven, hallow be thy apps, thy browsing be done, An thy entertainment be done in church, as it is on the train. Give us this day, our daily distraction, And forgive us our firmware delinquency, as we forgive those who envy thee glowy rectangle. And lead us not into arguments with fanboys, but deliever us from arguments, for thine network connection is harder faster better stronger. Work It Harder Make It Better, Do It Faster, Makes Us stronger, More Than Ever Hour After, Our Work Is Never Over.

Drop the bass motherfucker. IF you don't... hell, I don't even want to think about what happens if you don't. That is a nightmare I am not willing to embrace as of yet. So feed me sexy imagery and sick beats, feed me your delusions and fantasies.

And now I think I'm done. For now. Never really done but the words just kind of trip over themselves. remember when i turned the lords prayer into a daft punk song? that was cool right?

Fatal Questions

Does it matter?

What a fatal question. Yet, it haunts me constantly.

Why do I bother?

Every time I feel all my efforts mean nothing. Every time it gets harder and harder to accomplish anything with this doubt constantly nagging in the back of my mind.

Everyday has turned into a struggle to accomplish anything, between "Does it matter?" and "Why do I bother?"
I guess I'm not as ok as I would like to be. In some way it's a relief not to have to pretend to be alright all the time.
But it's still a matter of coping with everyday, one day at a time...