-14.jpg)
the closing sky
Sharp stone mountains close in
Spinning darkness clusters and tightens around the mind
Twisting and grinding sanity
What little light left is blinding
It is to guide as it cannot be avoided
Awful, awful little fucking light.
Spinning darkness clusters and tightens around the mind
Twisting and grinding sanity
What little light left is blinding
It is to guide as it cannot be avoided
Awful, awful little fucking light.
Photography
I’m still working with the technical side, the physical mechanics of it all, but when it comes to content and composition, I’m growing quickly. I’m finally starting to see some examples of expression. I always shit on photography as being so lacking of emotion and expression. Just a quick-fix, low effort way to call yourself an artist. I need to physically change a form. Use my body and soul. With hard steeled tools, preferably powered and dangerous, along with the flesh and bone tools of the mind to unite the piece with the artist. But I can see it a little more now; you can get some shit across. If there is a deep enough moment, influenced or created by its environment in particular, then you can catch it. You can often catch an odd slice, or a mural-like version of reality, a commentary of one’s placement.
It’s still pretty weak though…
breaking news
So notihng is coming through. I have no new achievements to speak of. I took a few steps forward and was suddenly, with profound force, slammed backwards.
I really want to just speak of general life, the artistic view of things, if you will, but I just can't seem to get to that place. All that is ever on my mind now is regret, guilt, loss and lonliness. Everything feels so empty, if there is any feeling at all.
So why this explosive, demeaning world with euphoric highs becoming fewer and farthur between?
...
I really want to just speak of general life, the artistic view of things, if you will, but I just can't seem to get to that place. All that is ever on my mind now is regret, guilt, loss and lonliness. Everything feels so empty, if there is any feeling at all.
So why this explosive, demeaning world with euphoric highs becoming fewer and farthur between?
...
choice
Why do I have nothing to say?
O my divinity, I'm brilliant!
But unclear as to why I am so stupid.
When will you succumb and grow weary of the cosmic wallpaper, leave the gold needles behind and rest in grey grass beneath a tree of bewildered blue leaves?
The deafening sounds of words fading into buzzes. The plastic, repetative ticks of a machine are progessively replaced with nothing.
Nothing progresses into nothing further.
Was this the correct route?
Well known, the less travelled cloud is often the most wicked, yet least useful
There is no more important thing in this world than an orgasm.
Words can be smoked and should be.
O my divinity, I'm brilliant!
But unclear as to why I am so stupid.
When will you succumb and grow weary of the cosmic wallpaper, leave the gold needles behind and rest in grey grass beneath a tree of bewildered blue leaves?
The deafening sounds of words fading into buzzes. The plastic, repetative ticks of a machine are progessively replaced with nothing.
Nothing progresses into nothing further.
Was this the correct route?
Well known, the less travelled cloud is often the most wicked, yet least useful
There is no more important thing in this world than an orgasm.
Words can be smoked and should be.
the latest
I've run out, I've hit the wall. There is a simple solution. I've reached an awakening, or a deep sleep.
process...
process...
Quotes.
Don't get hung up on difficult, miserable discoveries of your "true self" - rather, enjoy and goof off (and thereby avoid these self-knowledges.)
-Kerouac
-Kerouac
fake it i like it
Polaroid grins and half shut eyes
Bitter sadness suppressed
No thought may run free
Let it be
Goals are vividly unclear
You're fucking lucky to be here.
Get what you can, I suppose.
There's really not much else to be done. It's quite a state I am in. Nothing I'd ever imagined. Life in the bunker is so unusual and demeaning. Time, light, night/day, all lost. Self placement is confusing, to say the least.
But deep loneliness is always prevalent. Failure is blatant, even harsh. The simplest of things have turned into sad memories of reality.
I'll get out of here some day.
I just don't know the way.
Bitter sadness suppressed
No thought may run free
Let it be
Goals are vividly unclear
You're fucking lucky to be here.
Get what you can, I suppose.
There's really not much else to be done. It's quite a state I am in. Nothing I'd ever imagined. Life in the bunker is so unusual and demeaning. Time, light, night/day, all lost. Self placement is confusing, to say the least.
But deep loneliness is always prevalent. Failure is blatant, even harsh. The simplest of things have turned into sad memories of reality.
I'll get out of here some day.
I just don't know the way.
is, is
Life is very serious, it is complicated, a complete unknown and riddled with pain, in all truths, it cannot possibly be taken seriously as it is so simple, obvious, and consumed with pleasure.
Frustration, confusion and a clear head will get you through it.
Frustration, confusion and a clear head will get you through it.
Statement
A dizzying twist at the edge of reality.Vertigo with no where to go. Your brain may kill you.
why
Holy shit, why am I still here? I have no idea what is happening to me or my life anymore. I feel like I have no control at all. Everything important is slipping away. Even the simple shit I expected was guaranteed not to leave me is going or gone. I don't understand what I have really done to deserve this. I am against towering odds, nothing is ever as simple as it seems, everything hurts more than expected. There are virtually no goals or reason any more.
I have always enjoyed attacking the challenges life throws, especially that feeling of achievement and grand esteem after destroying one's problem, but when your whole life can be basically described as one big fucking problem it may just be too much. There is no solid object left to cling to, no fallback safety measure or reliable structure of any kind. Nothing is of any certainty. I can't even tell when something good happens or something was done right. Even accomplished goals are invisible or just quickly snubbed out by overlapping moments of complete frustration and failure.
Am I the only one on this sinking ship?
Am I the only desperate soul left alone in a deserted wasteland with one bullet?
What motivates survival when you don't even know why you're alive? If this is all the meaning I have left then I have lost.
I have always enjoyed attacking the challenges life throws, especially that feeling of achievement and grand esteem after destroying one's problem, but when your whole life can be basically described as one big fucking problem it may just be too much. There is no solid object left to cling to, no fallback safety measure or reliable structure of any kind. Nothing is of any certainty. I can't even tell when something good happens or something was done right. Even accomplished goals are invisible or just quickly snubbed out by overlapping moments of complete frustration and failure.
Am I the only one on this sinking ship?
Am I the only desperate soul left alone in a deserted wasteland with one bullet?
What motivates survival when you don't even know why you're alive? If this is all the meaning I have left then I have lost.
winter
Fair grey days of winter, yes I feel you even hours after I've left you. Every sound, the floors, the colors of everything are all different, how the nicotine mocks me.
What cycles of blame, rotating excuses change with the seasons.
Ah, that cold bitch wind blows.
The piercing shards of air are comfortably distracting.
What cycles of blame, rotating excuses change with the seasons.
Ah, that cold bitch wind blows.
The piercing shards of air are comfortably distracting.
-10.jpg)
Try it
I crave the madness
I love to lose my mind
I fear nothing
I will do anything, everything
I will know nothing
But it will all be so clear
Like a fog
A comfortable early morning mist covering the ugliness
It leaves random areas of clearness, sharpness
The rest is lost
You don't need it.
Run mad through the fog
Close your eyes if you must
Run fast and fearless
Run hard
Like your on fucking fire inside
Soon you will learn what is hidden in the fog in the most abrupt way.
A collision with yourself is imminent
I love to lose my mind
I fear nothing
I will do anything, everything
I will know nothing
But it will all be so clear
Like a fog
A comfortable early morning mist covering the ugliness
It leaves random areas of clearness, sharpness
The rest is lost
You don't need it.
Run mad through the fog
Close your eyes if you must
Run fast and fearless
Run hard
Like your on fucking fire inside
Soon you will learn what is hidden in the fog in the most abrupt way.
A collision with yourself is imminent
-8.jpg)
Answer
O lady of reason, comfort and tranquility
Bring me to that place
Tone down the madness, the sadness, the overwhelming guilt and regret
Slow down to the speed of life
Lay down with me and caress my mind and soul
Comfort my body, let it sink
Drift into your world
Why can't we always be together?
No world but yours
No world but mine
bliss
enough with the circles, damn
Here it is again, the lowest hour of the year, and so soon after a mild peak. Why was there hope? Fuck me, this will never be about anything.This isn't expression, it is just awful realities, repeatedly spread out on a screen for no one to care about. What to creativity? How could I? This was all a bad idea.
Actually, it's more like an oval, the balance is way off.
Actually, it's more like an oval, the balance is way off.
-3.jpg)
lately...
Thing have been up, up shit creek. Nothing on the horizon? I don't even see a fucking horizon. I am overwhelmed even by these harsh, decaying surroundings of discarded ideas.
What is to become of me? What am I to do about it? I feel my soul is locked in a dugeon beneath my feet. Sentenced to a thousand years of hard, tedious labor while engulfed in darkness.
It is brilliant, spirited and wild one, but locked away.
All grand, triumphant ideas are that alone, just ideas.
Nothing can be done outside this bunker, as there is no outside to speak of.
What is to become of me? What am I to do about it? I feel my soul is locked in a dugeon beneath my feet. Sentenced to a thousand years of hard, tedious labor while engulfed in darkness.
It is brilliant, spirited and wild one, but locked away.
All grand, triumphant ideas are that alone, just ideas.
Nothing can be done outside this bunker, as there is no outside to speak of.
It's dark in here
To take some of the dank out of these posts, I must focus more on the commentary of existence. Weather putrid or bliss, all is worth noting.
Complaining gets tiresome quickly and is worth nothing to read, if only for the amusement found in the over-reactive drama of those in the dark.
Speaking only of highlights and grand plagues of happiness just isn't real.
Not all are locked away in bunkers of destitute air, pumped in from the acknowledgements of what realities have always been.
Well, what the fuck, I am. But I am free and locked down. A mad minded, thick thought generating man. With closed expression building within and random scrolling ideas. Thoughts come and go, some land, some crash and others never really present. Some are in bound stacks, sketched on trees or coded onto square post notes, decorating the walls and open spaces of lost, invisible walls. Some are completely lost to the high speed transit of reaction and procedure. Then some are here.
Complaining gets tiresome quickly and is worth nothing to read, if only for the amusement found in the over-reactive drama of those in the dark.
Speaking only of highlights and grand plagues of happiness just isn't real.
Not all are locked away in bunkers of destitute air, pumped in from the acknowledgements of what realities have always been.
Well, what the fuck, I am. But I am free and locked down. A mad minded, thick thought generating man. With closed expression building within and random scrolling ideas. Thoughts come and go, some land, some crash and others never really present. Some are in bound stacks, sketched on trees or coded onto square post notes, decorating the walls and open spaces of lost, invisible walls. Some are completely lost to the high speed transit of reaction and procedure. Then some are here.
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