Monday, 19. May 2008, 00:34:09
probably from hamburger
i feel cold. shacky. the kind of shiver that doesnt doesnt imply or result from the cold, it inspires it. like waves of heat off tarmat, cold enters the room. me being the only source. logicly, physically, i have that backwards, cold can never expand thought a room, it is submissive to heat, which in its attempt for unfomity and controll delutes its own spirt untill it is gone and the cold has taken over. physics failed the second i was consived. god. not a god or the son of, not an eternal being that dreated this world. not your heavenly father who ark in heaven, most cetianly not the holy ghost, but a ghost non the less. to understand that mind of me you must trap your self in a labynth, by choice, you must know when entering this labynth that there is a way out, but there are no exits, you can leave at any time but you will never find the middle nor the exterier wall, dont bother memorizing the paths thy change as fast you do. this was your choice. have fun. i cant discribe this anger. this split decision of every thing i do. no choice is made as mine, no moment spent as me. its some thing i dont think ive ever contomplated, tthe desire for a second as your self, totlally and completely, in exchage for a complete loss of controll. is it worth it. is living in a haze of indecision on mood shifts with countless self reflects that have nothing to do with your self, worse, then being completely pushed away, it might a good vacasion, but who the hell knows what youll come back to. on the same note when you did, you would be alone. in control, for awhile at lease. this things arent possible, please dont confuse or worry any thing im saying as threats, to any one, inculding myself, these are simply words. i would never allow any part of me that wasnt i to have that much controll, and i would never grant said controll unless i held the fail safe. so its indecsision. some one could tell when my dinfluance chaged, almost instantly. i was drunk. very drunk. i think thats why she could. i wasnt gone, but to be honest i wanted to be, but ph god, leaving here, she would be so utterly lost. or not. with out fail, like claudia in new orleans she would take to this world, and take to this body, but dont tell her that. how far off topic could that possibly be. i feel better still have chills, eyes still hurt, but better all the same.
Thursday, 1. May 2008, 08:49:45
not not not not not not not not not not not not do
sorrow shadow and desperation. fuck that. the intelegence of this blog has now withered with all other aspects of my better personality. impossible done. fo take a friends hand has your own is hoved down your throat. to choke on the are of a car speeding inches from your hip, with any hessitation, with out the smallest glimps or glimmer of fear. the the driver swerves this is over, all of it, with out hessitation or remorese, but at the moment with all the termole and frustration, there is hope. i dont know when it got here or how long it will last, but its a light and a warmth that i refuse to let go of it.
this blog isnt done, but it needs to be paused... now.
resume... with a play list.
blood lust. proken thirst. a trust. painless bursts of thriving shine and liquid life. singal tear balanced at a dagers point, pointed forthe one last pixle of flesh left lingering on the back. as tattoo shine through for mthe skull and moments of murder prove more vialent to then those who would pass the glance off to anouther. this is not ok. this is not me saying that i am ok. this not me saying that i am going to be ok. i will be ok. this is to howling songs in the moon light on at a padios mercy and seeing his skin roll back from his face while you peel away all he has created. this to survival. to failure. i am some not one to dedicate but this is to seems to be a theme of late.
my mind has snapped off and still i press on. this place is bitter.
it has long since failed to quench a thirst that grows bt the second. i am the absents of ones self.
im am ignorance knowing no bliss and the seventh layer finding its place in as your home. i am you cozy by my fire. i am the fire. and the cocoa and the mug, the acid in your stomache and you. i am all of these things and none. i was ment to be bowed to i am ment to be worshiped. he is smarter then helooks and reflects my own brillance but i remember when he was awake. it must be this place that has fogged has vision. soon we'll be home and i will understand his words once agian. more at home then in bed. this new creation of conclusion is tanatlizing even for those who dare not particpate or interupt. this is not mine. for he is his own. but we are one in this place. this place has turned bitter.
it took four years for us to teach him how to forget for this moment when in a moment he knows howto remember. maybe a medication would be good for awhile. to ease this awaking trouble. its not trouble at the source, bot most cerionly within the comclusion. i cant do this agian. i will not take anouther cycle. anouther toss up as to be who will be lead. staging these lives is no more coplex then staging a play. for we are the playes and this is my muse.
dangling. arms fling to your neck, to the sight of the presure. your won weight not enought to crush the air pipe. your not going to die, for the same reason every attempt looses its intreage i loose the purpose.
god damn it. every night theres more to say more intelegently, and i close my eyes so i can type with less interuption and end up doing this, spouting idocracies to the wallmart slave labor force then falling asleep at the keys. this is my [pint. i need to sleep more then you can privde. my phone iks dead and sitting less the 19 feet away. im too tired to think about what blog this is in yes i need to sleep.
good drugs and ciggettes will make this go away
inflating the corpse half way down your throat and the world is still turning as you spin on its axis.
Saturday, 26. April 2008, 23:42:44
not done
hahaha instermentreal tracks at the end of albums. who would do that. i dont know theres this strang tired that ecists only just below my skin and i dont what to call it or how to play it. i shouldnt sleep. that would just make it worse. thats for sure. im almost starting to question weather or not a scar or 5 on my face would be nice. it would make him feel more at home. that would be horrible. its like every step i take is more into him and farther away from me. and its not a matter of choice or decision, but i know i could do more to fight it. tired is good. is an abyss. there is no me, no him. no her. its just there when im tired. i can move through time as passivly as any other inatimate thing fails to blink as its eyes grow dry. pushing things aside are simpler when theres nothing. you just lay. as you walk as you think. simply driing. no one can take controol when theres nothing to take controll of. its strange to watch personalitys mix and dilute each other. some are oil and water and will dance around the other for ever but never mesh. other find there commen balace, blue and yellow make green, red and blue make purple. then theres the ones that battle. the ones that mesh only for a second then force each other appart and from some thing completely new. not simply a third color that is a product of the first two, but some thing that has never been seen before, and will likely never be created agian. its impossible to recreate the reaction. the one varible, of tempt, exposere, quantity, that you cant controll, is time. these reactions are all time sensative. there for with every passing second the ingredents will changee ever so slightly, creating new strands of the same virus. i dont miss the changes. i dont know how to discribe what it is that am. these reactions take place more times then i can possibly count or even begin to imagine, and im the only witness. they are all with the mind of a singal soul, that is never a singularity. pulsing. beats. changes in the are driven by sound. and color. my eye is falling apart. i dont miss it tho.
car accident. i was in one. three days ago.
i dont know your favorite color. i dont know your favorite food, or even what your idea of the perfect night is. i dont know any of the things that make people know people. but i know your words before they leave your lips, and can feel your presese long before you enter a room. i know when your going to smile. i know that you suprise me. i know that you have no idea why this is being written and that you know me all the same. i know conversations spark from nothing and deep secrets are shared in moments when we create a feeling in a place. i know that i bounce my self of off you and you do the same creating a vaccume for all that could sway us from these moods. i know the look in your eye. most of them. i know the sound of your subtlest hessitations, i know how many times, and how to ask. i know when you want to say, and when you appologize. for nothing. i dotn knwo your birth day. i dont know your annaversy. i dont care. i know what i need to know you. i know what you prefer, so what else would matter.
i have no idea where that came from.
i should save this post and start a new one.
Wednesday, 23. April 2008, 06:16:26
why i cant sleep and what i mean when i say im dre
fuck
fuck
fuck
fuck
fuck
fuck
fuck
fuck
fuck
fuck
and
fuck
fuck this, fuck this not sleeping bullshit. a voice and a knife. a single salvation. to tear the eyes from this skull and the breath from this throat.
my phone is dead.
i dont even know what this feeling is or why, its a tension a tension in the back of my neck, and a twitch in my fingers. visions. fuck this, flashes of things i haven't seen. walking down a hallway thats instantly another, with another set of lies and another audience to listen to my preaching, this isn't fucking me, i dont walk down hallways in torn up apartment building full of musk and dust, i dont know why the fuck im here. some of the doors are open, the golden sun shines through a doorway cutting a perfect path from a long since broken window, leaving is mark on the door across the call i pause,stepping slowly and looking the hallway up and down as i move, slowly raising my hand to the knob... i have no idea how the fuck i got here; did i come alone. 'fuck it why not' spoken to the door, i turn the handle and press through, the call center. of-coarse the call center, as seamless of a transition as any one could expect, fucken shit, i hate this job, and of coarse im late from break, this is bullshit.
unlock the computer unfreeze cmis. then sit and fucking wait, wait for another fucken moron to gall there all knowing and blatantly underpaid help desk, to ask what the password they set a day ago is. FUCK THAT. im going to sleep. its the only real way to pass the time and stay same. i sit in my chair facing away from the computer, and put my arms on my desk, 'not the water bed but pretty fucking comfortable'. i lay my head on its side on the side part of my elbow as if to make some kind of cushion out of my own fucking flesh, then i close my eyes, the second i close them the air changes, and i dart them back open, its dark, not so dark i cant see, but my eyes will need time to adjust. im not sitting any more, im laying, the air is cold, and fresh, the windows are open, its cold, not cold enough to freeze, just to chill you under skin and make you wish you had a blanket. this isn't my bed, or my room. fuck i know where i am. shes still passed out, stoned from the night before, but shit, this was three nights before, god damn it, i cant lay here, not in this room, not with the way my vision has been, fucking shit now its all i can think about, why the fuck do i care? i know exactly why i care and its pathetic, no matter how long i try seeing that will always be worse then a kick in the balls and tube down my throat, and what's pathetic is its all in my head, and this bed i presume, fuck i need a cigarette, im still fully clothed and if i remember correctly i left my pack, right on this fucking desk, still almost full, amazing how that works, im up and out the door to the room lighter secure in my pocket, walking down the hallway heading for the patio, i wonder if Brandon's still asleep, or if wills still on the phone with heather? fuck i want a cigarette, i get to the door to the patio is propped open, the living is dark with those fucking black lights. SHIT i subbed my fucken toe. my eyes shoot open fuck a call. the bitch is already talking, its almost pathetic how quick and happily, i can unmote my phone and spit out, "thank you for calling my name is josh, how can i help you?" then mute my phone while the personifcation of my listening to their bull shit, spitts of blook in the trash can. sure what the fuck why not, i get paid to do this shit, i listen to her for 4 seconds and already know how to resolve her issue, get an id, get a phone number, then a name, then tell her what i could have already said and tell her ill double check that in the system, of coarse im fucking right, i dont have to read this shit, i made this shit, i just dont remember exactly how to explain that to any one. she tanks me with a teeth bound tounge, and i hang up the phone, fuck you, the call was dropped but the phone wasnt muted, i hope some one gets to hear that. close the ticket and start browsing the web, xkcd.com saves my life when my mind will allow me view a computer screen. not so fortunate tonight, fears sitting on my desk, playing with a pink ds that i beive was sho's at one point anymore might as well be lost. the only game it has is supermario brothers, but she thats fine, i dont think shes ever beaten it. i forget how younge she is some times. holy fuck why am i so chilled? oh. yeah... almost forgot about that. i should sleep, or eat, or dream, fuck none of that works, ill rock, rocking is good, no one can stop you from rocking. ha some one at work as the implication that i have sites like this, that might just get me fired, THANK GOD, that might get me fired. i cant take it. i layed in bed for almost 2 hours this morning dreading getting up with a terror thats starting to rivial cold water(which seems to have intesified significantly in the last few weeks). sitting in the cube with both elbows on the desk both hands on my forhead fighting to hold my self up and not to stay awake, shit i dont want to get up, fuck, what time is it? 8:45?? bullshit, how long was i asleep, the sun, freshly rissen, burning through the windsheild of my car. i should go home. i think about getting up to see if your awake or in bed, but i fiigure my bed is more likely to recipercate the consern at the moment. i need to stop driving untill i cant drive my self home. when is this? its got to be a month ago, i wonder what would happen if i ran i ran upstairs talk you not to take a shot of liquid heroin, then just left... eh fuck it, im already turning onto 275 and you would just think i was being crazy, which, would make sence. fucken shit, anouther call pounds my ears, ears as i turn on the radio, nothing comes out of the sterio but the sound of some idiot who cant to do a data transfer. im still driving and sitting at my computer all in the same moment, focusing on not running my self into a semi and working the call as if thats possable. dreaming? this late in the day, what the fuck? what pisses me off is at the moment niether of these two things make sence, so i cant curse the bitch out and i can crash the jeep into a truck. what the fuck, maybe ill end up fuck no matter what i do, so i tel her to fuck off, hit a gas truck and come to in english class. god damn it, i wounder if its almost over. me and sho are gonna hang out tonight and this class is redicuoulus. were watching finding forester. ive seen this movie ten thousand times, and im still not allowed to leave, i though this was college. i hope the aold bitch chokes on her gimp hand. holy shit its only 4, fuck who the hell schecules a 4 hour class on a friday? i already know im going to fail, does that mean i can leave. fuck it. oh yeah the kid with the bmw was gonna bick up after class, thats why im still here, i look over to see if he's still in the room and knock a book off of my desk, it crashes on the ground, and im taking anouther call, about 3 min into it, appearently she cant connect to vpn. i read the word doc in front of me to figure out what we've been talking about and contunue to type everything i or she says just in case, its a firewall in the hotel, she checks, im right, issue resolved, good night. im awake at this point. fear is still playing the ds, god im good at my job when im good at this job. its time to go, i log out and leave, not saying good bye to the guys i work with, i have no idea how out of it i was, i call sho like i said i would, out of instistinct, and habit, and well i really want to hear her voice, i have no idea whats going on with us, but i figure if im getting this slustered i must be felling some thing, we only talk for a second as i travel down the elevator and say good night to the gaurd. the phone call done, i get to the front door and see its 11:11 on my cell phone. wish made. fuck wishes. then i call you back. god damn im tired. i cant take anouther day of this. i dont want to be alone, but then again, if i were ever alone this wouldnt be a problem.
Wednesday, 16. April 2008, 08:52:57
third person perspective and camara angle transiti
"and ill be be your crying shoulder..."
those are the words. the words that are playing as i sit to write this blog. they weren't chosen by me. not for now or this. i havent posted in quite some time, not like i should. not like i know i need to. its strange how simple words aranged correctly on the right canvas can change your entire outlook.
too times the last few days ive felt my vision ripped away, like a optomatrist flipping the switch and repeating one or two. every thing chages and flashes, and is just diffent enough for you to know it changed. not diffent enough to know exactly weather its sharper or just smaller, or well, exactly the same. and then you step back. if your just far enough behind your self to reach out and cover your eyes, but thats never what you do. its not a matter of holding back or fighting it off; there is no fight. this is what it has always been. i am no more my self then you are i any person with a sence of self can define there soul with words.
this is walking into an elevator alone. surely alone. and standing, staring at a coner, for no other reason, besides your tired. you wait, thats all you can really do in those boxes. and the doors close. you stair into your corner, and the whole thing goes up, and locked in side, your not alone. hes with you. standing right in the middle as if he had always been. still startled no matter how many times it happens, your always still startled.
this is waking up with two old frinds sitting with you in your bed. this is pushing her hair behind her ear and watching it desolve as you relize that your mind had not yet woken up. shes beautiful. all of her. every her that has been in my dreams and in my daily vision. ever one who ever dared to step inside so i couldnt forget. thats the only realy thing. in all emotion, in all detatchment, even in moments of less then inspired memories, you still know that you could never truely forget.
so i could loose myself. i may already be gone. sitting in a care a 2 am in a parking lot listening to music that makes my world calm down and my perception simply twist to a milky cream. im sure im lost, for the me i used to know has vanished with the rest of the unknowns and intangitables, and in the same moment i am more my self then i ever thought that evening would allow. the words are not back by arrogent divnety, but they dont need to be, they are true. even then, i feel my vision fall over my should with no view or my own reflection.
smoke slides from the tip of a half gone piller nestled between my fingers. eyes half open as my body flys through the places i have been. the places i ahve held that ciggerete. every second is a diffrent memory to witch i am completely devoted and still, completely relaxed. the movenemt of sitting to standing to walking to thinking, its all endless and effort less. for the only physicallity of it all is irrelvant, by eyes are always where they have been and the out side resolves around them.
i havent been able to get that feeling out of my head. that moment. that grasp. its him. taking liberties and afirming long known addictions to drugs i have never used. just as allow of them surely will, he can flow through me with out hessitation. i surrender this, even though it is not mine to give. the words echo through my head. not spoken by her, not spoken by me. not the memory, the persistant mantra that has now been announced... eight of us... i am no more in controll then fear is my daughter or reil by brother. this is simply the way it must be. for it is the way it always was, and allways shall be.
i think i may loose my self soon.
please dont be afraid,
please dont leave,
please ask for me back.
Thursday, 10. April 2008, 07:18:53
... im not drinking alone so its ok.
4 shots of a drink called liquid heroin is enough to well kill you, but im about to have a fiveth. thats not spelled right i dont care.
1 sec im about to take a shot then go to the hot tub.
these shots are 1/4th rumplements
1/4th yegger
1/4th 151
1/4th gold slauger
ok shot now then death. fun night
Sunday, 6. April 2008, 08:07:18
had couldnt even come up with a captivating tittle
So i decided to have a blog of intelegence and relevence. of information that pretains to life. of opinonated conversational facts presented as it should be. the type of blogs tht people find online via links on pages they see while researching random nothings that occur on a nightly baises, and take no aw in the 1000+ comments left by others who folled the same stare light path to words that chanllenge thier views or simply define their position for them. the type of blog that would make people step back and say silently to their friend, or out loud to friend sitting near, "i would realy like to have a coversation with him in person" while suttlely toying with the idea that teir intelect would be smashed. then, as these decisions always tend to be, i chased this notion of a truely captivation blog with fact taht i have not opions worth stating. i am the one with the inferer intelect, constantly chalanging the words of others simply becasue i wish to postphone the relazation that my every argument is hollow. i am not intelegent and relevent. i am not well read and up to date. i am called out on a daily baises and always proven to be incorrect. i acept lies without question, unless they are correct, i which case i question them untill the truth matches my mind and statements like this are why no intelegent person out side of livia will ever read this blog.
Sunday, 6. April 2008, 07:44:57
no... not you.
and a moth ridden stag played at the sheets, devouring lies and taking their seats
black velvet ties consumed in his mind, tied to waist like a noose scared of height
jumping and singing, the sorrow will dance, grinning from tears we both will hold hands
with lies as our ash and death in our past the smoke in our lungs turns these intentions to dust
shutter and squirm together agian, the lines will be skewed tattooed to our skin
you hold my hand tightly forgetting to fall, im your nothing, were nothing at all
the spiders true bite kissing your breather, deception in mind sour the rest
words spoken truly sincere in their own, strung into lines and taken as home
pupils reflection de-vin as it comes, moving through fate swimming in bed
words with out meaning sensing the end, taking the perfect drinking a friend
misconception is cretin for cryptic at best, delusions of christ holding him right
the space that they crawl narrowly closing changing his empty to what he is holding
empty his hands alone in his bed, her arms still they hold him, in agony wed.
Sunday, 6. April 2008, 07:00:11
being horribly prodictable has its down falls
see the sad thing is, every thing i wrote to sean about sean, and sho about sho, i wrote to me about me.
and im boring.
Saturday, 29. March 2008, 10:37:08
fuck shes not real.
in a land where your eyes deceive you and your skin senses the slightest brush of every nothing in the room, your lips are just as vulnerable and hips will soon be too. her voice in your ear you, you know it could be yours, but her breath upon your face and hair between fingers. this is nothing, this is empty, this false and truer still, and then all conversations that i question, and the stories that i tell. in a signal moment im convince, and and in a moment more i have forgotten, like a dream with out a reason this perfect and i am clean. my mind will still device me, by body surly follow, for with third to tell, i can be sure that i dont know.
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