<center>Rives</center>

no.
this is not an answer.
not an answer to a god damn thing.
ive been thinking about this blog all day. aince i left to go to work ive been thinking writing. not on papper or on this glowing matalic nothing. not im my head eather. things dont seem right not with me. not in my head. to answer a question preemptivly yes im ffine. im completely fucking fiine. and yes im happy. im happy enough of the time to make every second worth exactly what it. but fuck. the idea that this is an act. what if im just fucking crazy. beyond crazy. crazy and perseptive. brillant in all the ways that some never wishes to be brilliant. im nervous, befond fucking nervous. i dont even know if theres words. i dont know what or who i am. every time i start to grasp it. approach it with the leasy bit of confort it betrays me. fuck. things that throw me for a loop. thats what ive been pressing agienst my mind all day. thats what ive been searching for. is things that fucking throw me for a loop. street lights going out. bucks silencing them selfs. music that i dont relize im hearing untill i think back to that time in memory and remember how i was tapping my fingers to the song on the radio... at work. there is no music at work. theres just me. i cant discribe the endless plane that i so often find my self. its nothing short of dantais 6th layer. ive never read dontays inferno. ive never walked down that spiarled path. all the same. knowlege isnt wisdom. wisom i lack. persception. even at this moment i find my self digging my hole even deeper. this isnt some thing i want any one to understand. i shouldnt make this blog post public... but i will im sure i will as quick as i made this day end i will make this post visible for all eyes to find it. no im not logged in. not to aim. not to myspace or face book. not to my own fucking mind. su root. f u root. this isnt what im driving at and my conversational skills are shot to hell. things that throw me for a loop. feeling some one elses disconfort in your body. knowing thay your not the one in your sking and yet your still contained and bound to it. thats what was diffrent. thats what fucked my mind. that even though i wasnt in that skin i was forced to follow, every so often my eyes would open after blinking and i would see, i would see as i should. through my eyes, i would think not out of person, but from behind my eyes. and i would glance to the left and feel too many emotions well in me. and i would look forward, and feel too many emotions well in me. and still this isnt accurate. i could never discibe it. never accuratly enough for my self. even if you undstood and read and stood there more perfectly then i was there my self, it still wouldnt work. its still wouldnt be FUCK! has not more passion or inflection .fuck. excite ment is toned down and my ability to express is pressed in two demential metal boxes. the irony is unreal. a god locked in meatal box untill he dies, now jumps into one by choice. yes ive had the death dream, ive had many deth dreams. idont even remember what ive been writing. i hear voices fom inside bu thay arent in a laungage i understand. not any more. that kills me. speaking a laungage and not understanding the response. like the words lose meaning some where before they leave the speakers lips. ive been told that there are two kinds of writers, im not a writer but i combine the failing sides of both. read time quake. i backspace an reprocess ever singal line, but i still just flail all over the page leaving my ink and my blood in some irreconsirable mess of what could be brillent comunication. brillant in all the ways no one ever wishes to be brillian.

i step away from my chair. the center is quiet. its allways quiet this time of night. theres no one in controll, not of the flesh, its simply moves because it must. no place keeps, the ones around me would call this sleep, what they dont know is if they tried to wake me, no consus ness would come, coma, i slip in and out of a volentary coma, may be one daysome one else will slip into this empy skin whileim away and ill lose it for ever. i move across the floor with out touching it. there is no need for feet or to wal, and move as i have thousand times through the glass on the door, sseemlessly i transfer from one world to anouther, im not in the center any more. not at 1 east. not in this time or this wourld. i sit in court. kneeling. as if i had a knee. my kneeling is only that of coutousy. the court is not small. not larg eather. i rise, again standing with out my feet at the floor. my brother is there, not of the flesh, the one that loves this world more then he knows he should. my sister and my sons, two daughter. this call is far from empty even with all of us. for there are others, there are 4 wemon all who gaze the sides of the room, whose words are second only to mine. i gave them this power and know i can take it. for that are not like any other in the room we are the first. the strongest, and our families. there are 4 other chairs, i stand in front of mine. all chairs make a circle, all familes sit besides there chairs, but all famils nod their heads to mine. to me. i know the others well. for it is in conversations with one or more of these persons that all fates are decided, that which races should take the bodies of humans. it is regulatted by our hands. and in war it is regulated by our will. there is one in my court who makes the room unconfortable, her mere presnce a blapheme as told and deemed, by us. and only us.

all in this room are winged, in one way or anouther. angelic? you could call it that.


distraction. distraction is much. the words of this counsel and this meeting will probably be forgotten.

ganasha.
reil.
reasil.
tuzul.
meran.
serazir.

and none of these are the names that im searching for.


WHAT THE FUCK IS HER HER NAME!

and every one turns away from me.
fuck.


i do feel better. the top half of this should be disregaurded, and held in context simply as my memory of an emotion and what should be felt accordingly.

the argue ment had been brewing for weeks. with the tension of the world they had been startign to collaps. the simple cold looks as their worlds brush by the other in all the simply ways that lovers worlds collide. he stil had the question on his mind, why had she left with him. why did she trus. i knew whe was wondering the same. how did he know what he was doing. the knowlege more clear then the questeion and a thosand times more troubleing.
"you at his side as much as any one in Germany.
he trusts you.
and you do NOTHING"
she stares into his eyes with more conviction then she had known that she could.
he turns his head down to see the fool instead of her passion

"this isnt in my hands, you know"

"my life, the lifes of all the world, not in your hands?
thats all you have to say for your self?
who are you?"
the words rining a familiar note in boths ears although they both new that they had never been said before.

he starts to raise his eyes to face to face her and let her see the man she knows to him glowing through his eyes, but catches a beam of light burning through the windows, long since shuttered, on his way and blinks sun away.

she starts agian... still with the shaky broken conviction that filled fer last question, only this time more relized.
"you cant even look at me..."

"no, you know who i am.
you know i cant stop this."

he knows these words are lies.
this is his doing, he couldnt say it to a soul.
he knows that all of this is his. he feels it from farther with him him and with more convicetion then he has ever had in his life.

"you and your Riche... this is all shit, every second
i hope you know it was your hand pressing a needle into my arm. the arms of my sister my father... my mother..."
the last part of her words trail, clearly too much for her to even speak, but she has.
tears will in her eyes. she hold one arm at the elbo while it rises to her face.

he falls towrds forward towrds her as if pusshed, to hold her, to make it right to remind her.

she shrugs out of his grasp. backing towards the door.
still hiding her face with her hair now sobbing uncontrollably, clearly struggling to take in air.

he doenst know how to react... hes hurt and lost, and knows with every secont that this is justified. he would hand her the knife push through his chest if it would help.

why cant he stop this. his mind races. an image of bodies in a feild. the tree line in the edge of vision clearly trimmed back in the edge of his vision. he servays the site with three officers following him.
hes in full uniform.
he lets his eyes flow over the bodies as the dogs wresle trhough them looking for any sighn of motion.
german and russion uniforms are mixed, all covered in blood.
his vision passes one uniform and haults. he knows, but how could he.
a german uniform face down in the mud, he steps forward and signals for the follers to stand back.
leaning reaching for the fallen solders shoulder.

he pushed back to reaility wit hthe slaming of a door.
he still standing incapble of movement for that moment.
then like a drowning bow find the surface of a lake he finds his breath and moves, with new convictstion. ariving at the front door just in time to slam it shut and place him self between her and the only exit.

"look at me.
You know me.
you know this face, these eyes,
if i could stop this i would."
now believing his words he continues
"things will get better,
please,
look at me"

her esys timidly lift to his lift to his for the first time since the door slamed

"we will all ways have each other"
he speacks softly and truely
"im sorry..."

the words ring

she breaks down and clutches for his arms he embraces now allowing his eyes to bleed as well.

both loosing them selves in the other.

the words intermingle and each speacks for the other,

i love you im sorry


they collaps in each other and stay there with their eyes bleeding untill the sun is well over and set.

losing faith in comunication and self controll. lounging desiresers find modivation to get off their asses and move start to strech their legs. suddonly so much that was simply hypathetical becaomes more of a reality then the very world inwhich we love.

this is what dreams find full steam in the moments before we wake. how the end is over when you know the storys just begun. i am not the ultamite being in this world, but i just might be in yours. not ive lost my pride.

and all the suddon the desire of those who have fallen.

then you scarcely underestamate your self.

the fell the engery and knowlege assiosiated wit hthings that you do not understand.


ganahsa



---------------------------


i am the falling cresent and therising sun. i am the orage glow the moon inthe morning and the warmth in which you back. i am all of these things and none. words not dictated are lost. not a singal breath from these lips should be lost.

as smoke fills these lungs and canser surly forms, this is nothing more then the beging of our next coming and perfection is certan.

nurotic nothings no diffent then every thing ive posted on this page before
a year before
has it tuely been ayear the though is unfathomable that it was less then a years time when i opened my eyes for a scond time as stepped into a world to wich i had no expectations and appsolutely no accurate repesentations or expectations as to what would come with the days to follow.
nathoalgic thougts fill my mind. a general what if that had never before crosed my mind. what if i had never walked out of my fathers house. what if i had not held my ground with a bitter and youthfull ignorance that fills all young minds with rage and forces theres claims for independence. whatif i had waited. stayed in that place. in that room. inschool that iwas failing. in a place that icould stand but barely. im sure it have all been the same. even if drasticly diffent.
i regret none of this. i could think of no greater path for me to have fallen down. for failure and loss tought me a lesson that moving out that going to school that working that dreaming and learning and writing and scretching never could. it tought me to lvoe and let go. to accept decete and betrayl with words of loyalty and to look at your bother as your own person al serpent in the garden and christ on a croos next yours. for this is not anything as ive ment to write. tis is not the setting of the place and some times it heels asif my fingers are moving with out any connection to this consous mness.

an unexpected smile comes from a clance on the bed i had a realization that im not sure if descoun would suit. its not one of pleasent nature and i could be farther as off base then shadow when he sat wake on wensday. for the record i dont care what he proclaims in retrospect, he had no fucking clue it was his father and if he suspected that it was all a deception in the house that night, he didnt know for sure. but i am sure that im glad the fat ass got stabed, he was jsut a fucking moron. in context.

i look at things ive painted and sketched over the years things that ive drawn and i wonder why i would ever think that there was a passion or power that i could even start to drrawn upon , with any level of controll at least, i have to close my eyes to write things like this ovther wise the words wont come out. i forget how used to a heyboard i become that i can close my eyes and trust my fingers to know the way to know when theyve made a mistake and with out flaw find the back space an move back over the things they have created. there are 49 keys of creation on my lap top and only one of discrution . there also those of modifcation but i think that the proprtions are corect. 49 ways to spill life into the world and onlyy one way necisary to distroy all of it.

runing the world pure, pure white, liquide running over rocks and running through the ties of memories and in to the seas of all the lands that are your mind. this is how i was when all was perfect and my simple touch could casue all that was neccisary to hold this world togeather to fall appart. your simply a lyric to a song that i have yet to write a muse with out an artist.

memoris of times that i never lived when my fingers brushed stingsto insterments that i never played to simple shows with people who payed no money but pulled all there strings of influnce to see two brothers make music as no words could discribe. not one would walk back into the ally way for which they enetered and one one would be missed. and not one woudl notice. not one would mind. for what they had heard and seen was enough for any one life in any one world. for any orb would love and dream to aspire to hagve that moment as there purpose of creation a thousand years of hindu rebirt and final perfection hails in comparison.
for in a place a romm where two become one and one turns to two some many times that stings in insterments shatter there own music to disturbances of the room all things entering and exiting the ears of those who bare witness will dance as anges for the time that they can hold it in their minds. then fall. mindless over in thier chars. just anout feast for those who know that they can change. no bloody ears are necisary to pull the soul from these when the sound is so pure.

my minds energy is fading for the evening and at least for now my dcreativety and ability to creave old knowlege is waning. nothing too much written not accomplisehed ill move on for a little while at lease for there anouther place that should and will be soon.

this is a post of tired tiredness and endless blah an attempt to reclaim a small segment of my mind as my own and spawn what ever desease has taken hold into some thing that i can jar and sell as jelly. no sentence is compltere untill the words are coming out, its sounds bizzare but im not looking at the key board or the scteen not in the least. so if my words are jarbled its because im tired beyond tired and wide awake in the same simmply srtoke.
i feel as if i shlould speak of the last few days as if they matter. they do. im sure they do but guck my mond wont focus on time bombs in tuna fish or lepercons that greet you at walmart just because you dontl ike cheese.nothing serious will come out of this post. i dont know why im posting it. i know i long to be intellectual, to know all it is that my mind can know to hold voversations with scholers and make them feel like shit because i never went to college and thay wasted there life on shit. and books.
im not well read.
i read like 5th grader. ha i dont even know.
this isnt disjointed this isnt lovely this isnt me and i am nothing to youmind and you lips.