Rives

illogical. stunningly insuficent slides of emotional rements left by memories i have no way or knowing, all incomplete. slipping down in the scale of of sanity, i feel a pulling on my ching forcing me to look to the left. following the line where the wall meets the floor then up the conrer near the back door. stoping just before the celeing intersects my vision- then stairing. an image moving just bellow vision, just out of sight. shes calling to me. motioning me in. longing for tsul. longing for me. for Trisma as she was and should be. she staring at me and seeing me as i see her. shes acros the room and touching my face all at once- distant with breath still warm aginst my lips and her gaze less then inches from wide open eyes. Who is this girl?! this women, goddes. demon?! angelic. certianly angelic. family? not in the traditional sence of the word. brillant. im lost in my thoughts once agian and forgetting her breath. thats all that i have, no name, no face, no voice nor smell, just a breath. a breath warm on my lips and dripping from my chin. eyes, the illusion of eyes, GODDAMNIT. tsul knows, she knows her, she knows her well. and im still left in question. fear runs to her, her demianer changes, for a moment. they kiss, fear kissing nothing, as a child should never kiss. im loosing my my mind and that was the straw, but im consous. coherent. readaly writing these words with my fingers. relaying the message my would wish me for get. fucked? i agree. this is fucked. in a moment i see her. a vision. with wings. angelic. ofcoarse. arent we all. bauty is brilliant and cruel as tsul's own hand. not tsul. not tsul at all. still close.

fuck my battery is dying.

this is something of a malnurished train of thought flowing through the station with out stopping, the passangers are starting to worry, that was their stop. it seems the train is speeding up, but is this as fast as a thoguht can go? oviously not. the ratteling in the seats is getting unsettling, a few, of the more resighned pasengers pick up their glasses, sip their brandy and think of all the naked bodes they can possibly imagine knowing, they are going to die. now i think its worth noteing, that even though malnurished, this thought is growing stronger, resisting gravity fighting off the wind and friction that should be grinding to to a hault. this train isnt fueld with coal or oil, its bure manic unstable and slightly depresed personality flaws that are sending this rage drawn carrige to its inevitable end. the passangers aboard this train are pleading with the man at the door for any chance of salvation. for survival is simply, they must simply be heard. therese are the ideas, images, and creations that need only see light, and feel the crisp or humic air of the world from which these trains are made to find a new root... a new seed, a new train. thats all they need, once they find there breath, on their station, its only then that they can mix and breed with all the others, to form entierly new existances and compell them selves to places their train never even knew it could go.
distraction.
train of thought derailed.

blog this is my blog. hi blog. how are you?
ive missed, have you been well? making newww friends?
staying off drugs?

well at least stay away from entimas, those are wierd.

so fun few months. livia lives with me now. reil is a dick. at the moment atleasst. tsul likes to take over my body and sleep with my friends. my room mate is 21 and a bitch, but thatts not new. i fucked on my patio tonight. then livia thew up blood. it was a magical evening.

i think i can fly. can you fly?

fuck im out of my mind, but your friend blog, your always my friend, right?

...

blog?
why aarrent you answering me?
a new friend, well fuck you your mine, and you will listen to me whine and rant untill the end of ti...

no i dont care about her car, why the hell would i care about her,

hmmm... GT40 is impressive, but still i mean FUCK, NO, YOUR MINE AND MINE ALONE.




i think i just got dumped by my blog

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.