Hearts

i am not sure exactly why i get the fealings i do. maybe it's because i don't really trust other people, maybe i don't really trust myself. i don't know what crazy is so i can't say i am crazy, but i do know what broken is and i know i've got some of that. it's a funny thing what insecurity can do, what a lack of control can do. is it right to miss control, is it wrong to want easy, lazy, control? i guess so.

there really aren't a lot of good answers for the questioning mind. maybe none at all.

Sunset Soon Forgotten

i typically don't ruthlessly steal from those who share in the craft but on this occasion i must give credit and due thanks to Sam Beam who contributed the title to this entry.

i go to places not normally visited, not always dark, not even foreign - this indicating a place just strange to me - i go places where people don't live and rarely venture to. if i could i would not go, alas, when my ship departs from port i, at times, have very little control over her.

i want even less control.

i want my hands off the rigging, i want the sails to fly, and me, this ships happy passenger, enjoying the voyage to unknown worlds. and though some of these worlds cause me woe, though there may be struggle, every night i retire and go to those other places where i am free.

what is freedom, what is truth?

food has flavor today, music has melody and harmony, art has vision, words have meaning - and so do i - so do you. and meaning has less to do with the internal self than we want to recognize or believe. the disease i have, in fact my whole life, has been about how i am feeling, how i am geared for me. i need to let go of more of that type of self centrism. don't get me wrong, a healthy inside, brain, heart, guts, is a good thing. it gets bad when self becomes the centre. so here i stand, a tad bit more away from the centre of what i know, it feels a little scary, a little naked, a little of a lot of things i don't feel. i didn't feel, maybe a smile that isn't about conning somebody is coming to my mouth.

Direction

i find myself fumbling through pre mixed radio stations hoping to find a track i like. onc efound i know i will be hitting the repeat button for the next little while. i have to have a soundtrack as i write. i don't really love words enough to put them down in times like these. actually, i don't really love anything that passionately. shamefully i am not really passionate about anything. shameful that is, downright shameful.

i think back, when was i really passionate? not just some washed up, trumped up plea for someone else's or something's love? when was it i last moved out of my own heart? when there wasn't a god to please, no love to abide in, no other person to try and manage, no rent? i think i am asking when was i last a child? i think i was ruined when i was and under the play ground equipment with that little girl. ruined since 4, fodder for the fires that eat the spewed lukewarm. what wakes up my heart?

more specifically, my damn heart wants me to be lit alive with something that doesn't warrent fire or cell - the problem is i don't have a fucking clue what that is. the things that bring me spirit, those things that make my heart race, make me seem alive - those things are the things i am not supposed to want. yet the things that some people say are supposed to make me come alive - those are the things i hate the most. truly grace was made for men like me. but yet i feel as though i shouldn't revel in my shame or continue in those ways, i just don't see the good in doing any better.

as i type this i can't help but to look at my skeleton fingers in the light of the computer screen, the veins wrapping them in a thin, green, vascularity. i may not have been healthy before all of this but the drugs and the sickness have taken a toll on me. i may be okay for one battle but i would be shit in a war right now. i get this horrible sinking ffeeling that i am not goodenough for anybody, that noone i am ith will ever be getting the upside of the deal. how could anyone benefit falling for a two timing, druggie, a gambler with control issues, who would rather fight, think he's right, who hates most living and walkin, can't stand himself, self loathing, self righteous ass? i may paint it a little bleak - but all of those things are me, maybe not all at the same time but those are all my adjectives lined up. i know there are some qualities not listed but fuck all, i ain't about that right now. this one's about how i am fucked and need a real heart.

like the tin man, like the scarecrow, the cowardly lion, pinnochio, i need something. i need an epiphany moment where from thence i will need no other answers - i have never had one. i have had the lies of one, those which i self manufacture, moments i generated in my mind, imaginations of those moments that change everyone else's lives. i think everyone needs one, or multiple of those moments. i won't tell you how many of those in the world have't had them but you know there are a lot of them. the only difference between them and me is i need one, i want one. i want a moment that opens me up, pulls me forth and says "this one is yours, drink every drop and be forever changed."

i guess for now i will wait with my broken compass, i sleep with shoes and pants on so when he comes i will follow, i just can't hear his calling. i feel like i wait for my groom that will never come. and that while i keep my oil wet and wick trimmed everyone else sucks the teet spiggot on the barrel labled fat of the land. so i lose it and spill som eoil, i cut the wick too low, i just get scarred every now and then, that you aren't coming, or not coming through for me. i get so low that there are times where i convince myself that's true and that makes me want to end it all, especially if it doesn't mean anything.

i am sick in the head. sick the heart. sicin the soul. i need healing omr that foous font,i just don't know where it is. and basically fuck those assholes who say some cheesy shit like "oh you're stand in it" insert putrid grin here. just a moment, a moment in the right direction, is all i need.

Morning Light and The Sea Of Need

My legs and feet shake with pestilent nerves, uncontrollably out of the reach of rational exposure. There is very little that stops my constant twitching. No one can live constantly on the awares, ready for attack or action, i believe i will die soon. i don't know why, the wary nerves in my body are frayed and teased like the bottom of a favorite pair of jeans. i have learned abide the incessence coming from below my waist, my life having a small and subtle shake now for a few years. i feel like a timer is churning inside of me, winding its way down to the anti climax of death. i feel whittled, carved into something ever smaller and smaller as the days go, i hate being destroyed, turned into the nothing, turned into nothingness. Most of what i have left is pain and love, if i be so lucky to remove all but pain and love i will consider myself lucky. however, like i said, pain and love is only most of what i have - the other stuff, the pride, the anger, the fear - it is at times louder than the pain, sometimes it is louder than love. so what is the prayer of a man who needs the little so he can have his heart back?

give - us - this - day - our - daily - bread

Character

I was walking down the aisle at work today and overheard a few other of the cogs in the servo talking about a current struggle and how it can only build character if the struggle is scene through to fruition. There is no doubt in my mind our characters are fashioned out of our life experiences. Genetics may play into the field but mainly as an influence in what we experience. Basically who we are is a composite sketch of our experience - with a few overwhelming social trends, but the details, the wrinkles - those are ours.

So as i let their trivial dribble through the spillways in my mind i begin to ask myself the question of who i am and how much pain has shaped me. that thought quickly moves into the barter game. what would i trade of my character to get rid of the disorder or even just to hem in its' effects. i wonder how many homeless people think about what they would trade to not be homeless? i haven't the feintest idea for either question.

i wanted to go back and stab those idiots talking about struggle building character. take out my filed letter opener and open up a leg or two and then implore them to find the character there but alas i need health insurance and i would die in prison. i am loathe to shut my mouth or back down from a fight, one on one or one on twenty, it really doesn't matter. it's a shame i need the drugs and mris like i need food - somtimes those chalky pills are all i eat in a day.

i don't know a lot about things, i play like i do, but really, i have looked into the abyss, i have seen into the shadow of the One and i know the depths of the Real are so implausible i am refuse to speak of them. i long for that abyss again, i want the insanity of the maelstrom, i don't think i get it for a little while, of course that is my thought, i have no clue about the timing thing. who knows about time? no one that's who, get a physicist, a philosopher, and a priest together and expect flint on stone regarding time. none of them have it and know it. if they know it their brains are jello like mine. i didn't get the time revelation though. i got another.

so i guess i "know" a bit about something, and that something has shaped what i think i am. and those in aisle can have that sweet bread of their own existence.