We feel safe with labels.

It's a new year.  I suppose I am a little late on this.

So, we're not going to talk about resolutions.

I haven't written a bloody thing in what seems like ages.  My mind is mush, yet sparked with all sorts of raging daggers and shards of glass and things that glimmer (but not craft herpes - what you may know as "glitter".).  Artist's block?  Writer's block?  What shall we call it?  After all, we are human, and humans seem to need some sort of categorization and familiarity to function and care.  Ah, well, let's not name this, and not see what it makes you feel.

I had some dreams lately, but I cannot recall them well.  I miss having crazy dreams.  Remembering them, that is.

Let's talk about anger.

Rage.

That tickle inside you that makes you twitch and shake, feel the urge to explode your every negative emotion upon anything within a Mt St Helen's radius around you.  The fire burning in your eyes as you feel them shoot lasers into those people or things that have angered you.

He's chewing his food.  Everyone needs to chew food.  Okay, maybe not snakes.  But humans.  We need to do it.  But, gosh, does he have to do it so loudly?  Am I going crazy?  Why is this so loud to me?  WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME?  Can I say something?  Should I say something?  Is that rude?  Why am I thinking so much on this?  Does everyone do this?  It didn't bother me yesterday.  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MAKE IT STOP.

I don't know where I'm going with this.  I don't even know where I am going.  Well, then.  End post.

Not a believer

It is still beyond me how things can be so easily taken from you.  Just like that; gone, gone forever.  It's not that sudden, because you knew it was happening, but you never believed that this would happen in your life.  You sound selfish, saying this, but it just doesn't make sense.  Gone forever, and it didn't seem like the right time.

What now?  You "move on".  Right.  Because that is so easy.  Just move on, write all that you thought would be out of your life.  Because that is so easy.

Be with me, talk with me, play with me, joke with me.  Sit with  me.  Cook with me.  Just be.

And there we have it.  Gone.

How is one supposed to "move on" when moving on had such emphasis on certain things.  You honestly cannot "move on".  You have to change things.  You need to change all of your plans.  And, even so...let's face it.  It's going to be second best.

Let's talk truth:
I'll never have what I want.
I'll never really be what I want.
Maybe I'll be what was wanted.
But, hey, I'm selfish.
And I just won't ever have what I want.

So...here's to life right now.
And here's to death later.
Maybe then will things be at peace.

Love, love always.
Always love, always love for you.
I love you, always.

Not the best

I'm sick of your haunting, sick of your face

I'm sick of your visits; get out of my space

Down the river we flow. The rapids try to overtake our capsule, but we manage to stay afloat. There is not much to say for the others, though. Their ferry ship is within sight. Excitement and worry fill my body; I jump on. Where is everyone? The ship is empty. The water starts to flood around my feet. I jump back to my small boat, avoiding the sharks. How would we save them all, anyhow, with such a small boat? The fear and worry is flooding me like the water is flooding the boat beside me. Soon, we'll both sink.

We're nearing the end of the canal. There, there they are. They are safe!

We're not at the end, though, and “they” are no longer in my mind. Actually, I am alone. Except for him. Are we even on a boat with a canal or a river?

We're discussing something about going somewhere. This is what couples do. Apparently we're still a couple; nothing had changed or happened to end it. We're...happy? I'm happy? With him? I suppose I am. We discuss and go places as everything morphs. We are here, we are there. And then I am awake, bothered by his presence, annoyed and hurt at the same time.

The Swing

Jump right in.

Where has this all come from?

I can't.

Never say you can't.

I know I can.  But I can't.

I...

So many thoughts.


Just get back.


It's so difficult.



It's almost existentialist, but the others would just call it "crazy".
The way thoughts float about,
Perplexing your own mind,
Fucking with your every emotion,
Telling you things,
Convincing you.
Fucking crazy, fucking crazy.
Is there really an answer?
Fuck.


I'm sorry, so sorry.

There's nothing to be sorry about.

There's everything.  I know you're right, but-


They just don't end, do they?
How far will it go?
Where will it lead?
Will you even understand this tomorrow?
Remember?
What?
I'm confused.  Yet it makes sense.  Yes, it makes sense.

I'm sad.  You're not making sense.
Sometimes, you do; sometimes, you don't.

What the Hell is real?  Real?  What is Real?
Damn, here goes the existentialism again.

We've traveled so far.

I know.

Shit, I'm sorry again.

No, wait, but it helped.

Fuck.

This was one Hell of a trip.  Again.

Repeat.


Repeat.


Fuck, when will it end?

Nothing out of something

What we do to ourselves

The pain we cause

The sense that we do not make

The life that you live

I am not inspired, just hurting.

Cyclomania

Sometimes, it is difficult to remember what one was thinking just a few moments ago.

Sometimes, this happens often.

There is difficulty present.

Trappings in a body, but not really trapped.  Floating, wandering, brooding, existing.

Insanity?  Unstable?



I seriously cannot remember what I wanted to write.  I do not remember what I was thinking.  I do not understand.  I do not know what is going on.

Blinking

Don't blink.

You don't want to miss anything.

"Go with the flow."

"Roll with the punches."

"Follow passion, but be careful."