Day and night
I don't want to sleep anymore, my dreams are haunting me. Pathetically tearing in my sleep. I don't cry, but apparently I do. Wretched saline wakes me in the night or encrusts my eyes as I find then un-openable in the morning. Horrible, horrible reality found in even the most mystical of worlds. Peace isn't found, it's all kind of a joke. I miss so much. It's driving me mad. Mostly sad...
How I miss that being, that beautiful form, that soul that connected me. She is so gone, so hateful of myself. It is so hard to give up but so rational and correct, yet so completely wrong.
Mild.
This binge is killing me. I'm nearly through. I don't want to be normal, but general structure, even vague, keeps me on track and this is becoming a mess. Time is precious and I am butchering it, sleeping or working it away, fizzing it away, I've barely kept up with myself. The coin isn't as good as it seemed, or the sacrifice did not seem clear until hindsight.
At least I still know what's going on.
I think so anyway.
I just need to pull over, park for a bit.
At least I still know what's going on.
I think so anyway.
I just need to pull over, park for a bit.
slump
Binge working again. The last two days were 40 hours alone, cramming a week into a 48 hour period is a strain but I've hungered for work for a while now, I needed this.
Future endeavors have more promise as well, a structured respectable position is on the horizon. In the mean, I will at least be making money...
Saturdays and Sundays are no longer "weekends", but simply "days". I am always willing to get paid.
I miss my pup but that is about all I've to come home to, so it makes it a little "easier" to lose myself in work. Although my physical body is showing me it's broken and worn age in the un-ignorable pain I literally feel everywhere.
If only I had some tea.. .
Soon enough, get ahead, pay a few death's tolls and I will have fragments of freedom.
It is all I really require, even if only in short moments of tiny peaks. I am deserving of little in many ways but striving for so much, still in the fight and still digging out.
Either, or, I must now briefly rest with my scotch, no rocks...
Future endeavors have more promise as well, a structured respectable position is on the horizon. In the mean, I will at least be making money...
Saturdays and Sundays are no longer "weekends", but simply "days". I am always willing to get paid.
I miss my pup but that is about all I've to come home to, so it makes it a little "easier" to lose myself in work. Although my physical body is showing me it's broken and worn age in the un-ignorable pain I literally feel everywhere.
If only I had some tea.. .
Soon enough, get ahead, pay a few death's tolls and I will have fragments of freedom.
It is all I really require, even if only in short moments of tiny peaks. I am deserving of little in many ways but striving for so much, still in the fight and still digging out.
Either, or, I must now briefly rest with my scotch, no rocks...
Jacques Cousteau
What the fuck have I done? I chose the worst paths possible. There is no solid employment as an artist, my fall back is construction, equally as stupid, one cannot keep a job in this region. Even best case, such as a union gig, its job to job, constant layoffs when the project is done. I am "worth" so much with my experience but no one gives a fuck. Why am I awake at 5 am without having to go to work? I completely fucked up. that's why. I was so against the computer age at a time when if I had embraced it, I would have been a leader in my field. I loved so much taking photography classes in high school but my senior year they weren't even offered anymore because digital and computer tech had taken over.I missed it, I denied it, I considered myself a purist when all I really was is a fool. No more developer and stop bath, not even a dark room for fucks sake.
So many wrong turns.
Where the hell is my baby?
Where the hell is my life?
Who the fuck am I?
If I had had a single focus on even the most mundane of careers or dreams I would be a grand success by now, I am old and over. My "loser" friends, even the drug addicted "gangsta" types have happy little families and homes by now. I have nothing. NOTHING! just a loving dog and a few trinkets of memories of good times when things didn't matter.
I don't understand it, I thought I was a good man, a hard worker with a good heart, I care about others and want to make the world better for all. Ive done nothing to fall into this category. I am nothing but love and care for the world around me. I am true of heart.
I like working hard, I like to earn things rightfully and pass on anything I can to others but I cannot even take care of myself or those literally closest to me. I cannot even show my love to my sweet pup.
I have such greatness inside me but no one will ever see it.
I have lost anything I have even come close to having. My soulmate, my second chance even left me, my old dreams, my new dreams I was forced to accept and run with, they have all left me...
I cling to the most simplest and worthless of things, I can have a deep, intellectual discussions on a wide range of discussions focused on art, politics, life and cosmic existence, I look good in a suit, I can work unbelievably hard in the most physical scenarios, I have skills and talents that surprise all, even me. these things mean nothing, however. Am I great? Of course not, I have done nothing.
I have helped no one, I have made no difference in this world.
I rescued a dog from depressing streets and gave him a loving home but even he is anti-social and selfish, more than even I.
It is too late, it really is. I remember when I turned 30, justifying that some great men took that long to be who they were but that was long ago. I feel hated and worthless now.
There really is something wrong with me, not a simple pill solved issue but a real core of who I am.
It is hard though, I am no drug addict, not a loser kind of criminal type, I am good, full of love and kindness, striving to make a difference beyond myself. I am not saying I deserve anything but I should have opportunity, a chance to make a difference, even if only through art and expression that I feel great passion and understanding of.
I want to call out to my love, let me show you.
It is all gone and cannot happen.
I did it all wrong. Every move was wrong, every idea was bad, all my dreams were ridiculous.
No one cares either so I do not know why I sit here typing away these stupid words.
Talk to me, tell me it's ok and you want my dreams to be true, you believe in me as I do not.
It's ok, I don't need you, I don't need anyone or anything.
Good day to you all...
So many wrong turns.
Where the hell is my baby?
Where the hell is my life?
Who the fuck am I?
If I had had a single focus on even the most mundane of careers or dreams I would be a grand success by now, I am old and over. My "loser" friends, even the drug addicted "gangsta" types have happy little families and homes by now. I have nothing. NOTHING! just a loving dog and a few trinkets of memories of good times when things didn't matter.
I don't understand it, I thought I was a good man, a hard worker with a good heart, I care about others and want to make the world better for all. Ive done nothing to fall into this category. I am nothing but love and care for the world around me. I am true of heart.
I like working hard, I like to earn things rightfully and pass on anything I can to others but I cannot even take care of myself or those literally closest to me. I cannot even show my love to my sweet pup.
I have such greatness inside me but no one will ever see it.
I have lost anything I have even come close to having. My soulmate, my second chance even left me, my old dreams, my new dreams I was forced to accept and run with, they have all left me...
I cling to the most simplest and worthless of things, I can have a deep, intellectual discussions on a wide range of discussions focused on art, politics, life and cosmic existence, I look good in a suit, I can work unbelievably hard in the most physical scenarios, I have skills and talents that surprise all, even me. these things mean nothing, however. Am I great? Of course not, I have done nothing.
I have helped no one, I have made no difference in this world.
I rescued a dog from depressing streets and gave him a loving home but even he is anti-social and selfish, more than even I.
It is too late, it really is. I remember when I turned 30, justifying that some great men took that long to be who they were but that was long ago. I feel hated and worthless now.
There really is something wrong with me, not a simple pill solved issue but a real core of who I am.
It is hard though, I am no drug addict, not a loser kind of criminal type, I am good, full of love and kindness, striving to make a difference beyond myself. I am not saying I deserve anything but I should have opportunity, a chance to make a difference, even if only through art and expression that I feel great passion and understanding of.
I want to call out to my love, let me show you.
It is all gone and cannot happen.
I did it all wrong. Every move was wrong, every idea was bad, all my dreams were ridiculous.
No one cares either so I do not know why I sit here typing away these stupid words.
Talk to me, tell me it's ok and you want my dreams to be true, you believe in me as I do not.
It's ok, I don't need you, I don't need anyone or anything.
Good day to you all...
too late?
I have done too much damage. There is nothing left of my hopes and dreams. All I do is piss people off with my failures.
Remember when life was about the moment? Doing good meant doing good right now. It didn't need significance of years worth, it just meant doing good today, or now.
There is simplicity in nothingness but it isn't fun, rewarding, or leading to anything.
It is over. You are over.
Remember when life was about the moment? Doing good meant doing good right now. It didn't need significance of years worth, it just meant doing good today, or now.
There is simplicity in nothingness but it isn't fun, rewarding, or leading to anything.
It is over. You are over.
I never said any of that.
Damn, such drunken ramblings, typical of a broken fool. Many true points but presented sloppily and crudely.
It's just a good thing no one reads any of this shit.
It has gone a terribly wrong direction.
Repetitive and pointless. Topics of no interest to anyone, badly written.
From now on its only poetry and reviews of movies from the 80's...
It's just a good thing no one reads any of this shit.
It has gone a terribly wrong direction.
Repetitive and pointless. Topics of no interest to anyone, badly written.
From now on its only poetry and reviews of movies from the 80's...
post
I have totally fucked every aspect of my life. 'Ive nothing left. Going no where so fast. its not so funny.
You are not meant to do or be anything,
I cannot believe what i have become. this fucking laptop is broke, I cannot even type anymore without it jumping around and destroying my thoughts.
i have pure love and passion but no one cares. I do not deserve any of this?
repeatedly rejected for my blatant failures.
I am so fucking lost.
I love.
I hate myself.
It is just me and my pup. I knew it would be, it is all there is. I wish I could understand what is wrong with me. my failures continue. why cannot I be loved? Why cannot is what I feel anything?
Whiskey. $3
Will I ever be anything? I am aware of my potential. I hear it blatantly told to me by people whose opinion i greatly respect and do not bullshit, I know its real, I know I am real. Why does nothing ever happen?
I long for so many things, I dream so much, I have great passion, I always understood that it was most important, that is what drives, I have it, but there is nothing coming through.
help? no. I have never felt such a thing. only ridicule of my efforts.
here I am, no degree, no accomplishments, no name of myself. I am no writer, not a photographer, ha! not an artist, guffaw, you are not a label.
I want something, some reasoning.
rejection.
constant.
but not for real reasons, not of who i am or how i feel. I do not understand. I am not worth any effort yet I try so hard all alone.
I truly love my dog as he loves me. I cannot keep a real friend. I cannot be what anyone feels. I am alone, should be, meant to be, maybe try to be, but should not be. I feel, no one else does. I am hated, why? hated? that seems extreme. I'm not the best but I am so true, pure and real it should be respected. My efforts are a joke in general. I cannot stand existing as some stupid character meaning nothing to anyone while i try so hard
I had it all figured out but ran out of time. give it back!
I found a grey hair, not in my beard, those have been there a while, but in my beautiful mop. I am slowly dying. my friends have children the age that I feel I still am. I have nothing. I don't even own my own car. I have no degree, I have no reality. I am hated, most importantly by me.
I have but one true, repetitive dream I crave but seems to slip further and further away every day. I am so confused. so lost. i miss life.
Oh city, I hate you too, I love you so much. please make me happy, make me forget everything give me life, why? why not?
I had real thoughts when I started but here we are.
Whiskey.
You are not meant to do or be anything,
I cannot believe what i have become. this fucking laptop is broke, I cannot even type anymore without it jumping around and destroying my thoughts.
i have pure love and passion but no one cares. I do not deserve any of this?
repeatedly rejected for my blatant failures.
I am so fucking lost.
I love.
I hate myself.
It is just me and my pup. I knew it would be, it is all there is. I wish I could understand what is wrong with me. my failures continue. why cannot I be loved? Why cannot is what I feel anything?
Whiskey. $3
Will I ever be anything? I am aware of my potential. I hear it blatantly told to me by people whose opinion i greatly respect and do not bullshit, I know its real, I know I am real. Why does nothing ever happen?
I long for so many things, I dream so much, I have great passion, I always understood that it was most important, that is what drives, I have it, but there is nothing coming through.
help? no. I have never felt such a thing. only ridicule of my efforts.
here I am, no degree, no accomplishments, no name of myself. I am no writer, not a photographer, ha! not an artist, guffaw, you are not a label.
I want something, some reasoning.
rejection.
constant.
but not for real reasons, not of who i am or how i feel. I do not understand. I am not worth any effort yet I try so hard all alone.
I truly love my dog as he loves me. I cannot keep a real friend. I cannot be what anyone feels. I am alone, should be, meant to be, maybe try to be, but should not be. I feel, no one else does. I am hated, why? hated? that seems extreme. I'm not the best but I am so true, pure and real it should be respected. My efforts are a joke in general. I cannot stand existing as some stupid character meaning nothing to anyone while i try so hard
I had it all figured out but ran out of time. give it back!
I found a grey hair, not in my beard, those have been there a while, but in my beautiful mop. I am slowly dying. my friends have children the age that I feel I still am. I have nothing. I don't even own my own car. I have no degree, I have no reality. I am hated, most importantly by me.
I have but one true, repetitive dream I crave but seems to slip further and further away every day. I am so confused. so lost. i miss life.
Oh city, I hate you too, I love you so much. please make me happy, make me forget everything give me life, why? why not?
I had real thoughts when I started but here we are.
Whiskey.
Foolish one
What drives you? What do you live for? Dreams are just dreams, not goals. Goals are not climaxes but simple steps, minor achievements.
Fuck this, I have lost my ability to express.
No one reads or cares of this shit anyway,
or of me and my pathetic existence.
I know I don't...
Fuck this, I have lost my ability to express.
No one reads or cares of this shit anyway,
or of me and my pathetic existence.
I know I don't...
Scotch
I admit my style is stereotypical of that of an artist, a crazy person, or a bum. All three terms could easily be used to describe me as well. Though I'd prefer "artist", it's the one I must earn.
Lie and deny
I don't know what to believe anymore, I thought I could trust my own heart and follow it to some kind of achievement, a blissful dream even, but again I fooled myself and made a fool of myself in the process. O these torturous dreams of mine. Purest pleasures, intimate, deep feelings released and traded, a begging for my soul to let loose and feel it all. They must stop. Reality is now, though it sickens me, is and always will be as it is. I haven't control of my own thoughts, feelings, urges and cravings but they will eventually be snuffed by reality. Let us hope there will be a leveling off soon.
Gerald Ford?
You have done nothing in all the time? You are like an old man with no valid excuses, looking back and knowing everything, especially the everything impossible. Dreams are sickeningly vivid. Sad, passionate and full of such intense, pure energy. Again pleasures of the mind not achieved in reality, nor is there any hope of it, just a deep longing for things unexplained.
point.
You have expired, it is too late for dreams, childish fantasies of good times, pure of heart moments. Broken, rebuilt, re-self-created means little at this point. energies and urges must be ignored as the realities clash. You have lost in many ways and won in others...
Accept things, absorb petty praise and continue on.
Lose yourself within yourself and just be. Be something though.
I am on such an edge.
This whole thing is a mess...
Crazy, just fucking crazy, life is.
I do not know what to think or assume is what is.
Fast, short run of blinding experiences and harsh realities. Its almost over.
point.
You have expired, it is too late for dreams, childish fantasies of good times, pure of heart moments. Broken, rebuilt, re-self-created means little at this point. energies and urges must be ignored as the realities clash. You have lost in many ways and won in others...
Accept things, absorb petty praise and continue on.
Lose yourself within yourself and just be. Be something though.
I am on such an edge.
This whole thing is a mess...
Crazy, just fucking crazy, life is.
I do not know what to think or assume is what is.
Fast, short run of blinding experiences and harsh realities. Its almost over.
A whole lot of fucking up
I have nothing, I have way too much. A minimalist who owns one of everything worthless. My thoughts have no content, no inspiration or visions, no ideas of any kind. I do not create, I do not feel.
You're not that good.
You're being ridiculous, you're kidding yourself on so many levels. I've promised three different women I'd sex them up this weekend and I feel too shitty to even walk my dog. What the hell are you doing, anyway? While normals look for love, I look for its void. I feel flawed, I know where it is but I'm forced to ignore it. That's it, that's the one, but it's unobtainable. Meaning, that aspect of life and need is not a choice. Just go with life, it's fun emptiness. It's really no different than peaks and valleys of any existence. Pleasures, even brief, they are.
Why did I do that?
Typical. You knew better, you even promised yourself to never feel anything again because you know the result is bound to repeat. Well, brain, I told you so. I turned that shit back on for nothing. You've been reduced again. Broken down again. Lied and betrayed. Again.
Fucking idiot.
I hate that putrid emotion again. It's useless anyway, a distraction of what is really important: my selfish pleasure and self made reality.
I knew what I was doing but I had to feel.
Foolish.
Feel nothing, be sick and sad only. You've lost and deserve such.
So there it is.
Lost.
I don't miss "it".
Why?
I feel like death today, it took my whole weekend from me. Crippling on multiple levels. In a wet wad of scarce consciousness for 14 hours. Bones, muscles, all the complicated moving parts ache and creak with movement. I am not weak but this feels like weakness. I hate it. I hate this idle suppression of my needs, wants and direct responsibilities. I'm fucked up in the worst way. It's not even payback for having too good a time. Sleep it off as you must work in mere hours...
O
What the fuck am I doing? Update your fucking self. When and why did any of this happen?
I have an "arrogant artist attitude", ha, even when insulted it's still kind of a compliment. That's done though, it was real, but not real fun.
Here it is.
Pup.
I've nothing left.
I have an "arrogant artist attitude", ha, even when insulted it's still kind of a compliment. That's done though, it was real, but not real fun.
Here it is.
Pup.
I've nothing left.
Unexpected situations
Things are reversed in odd ways, new versions of old hopes, more energy than time, companies and individuals owe ME money of significant number, considerable respect, accomplishment, strange hope.
Is this another false clinging to a few profound words, maybe even accidental ones? Is this just another path to a painful, poor choice based on heart driven madness and passion that is truly one sided nothingness to be played?
I can do absolutely anything, even be the best, but is it really just to fuel it with such passion? There are reasons to do right, passion brings the greatest results, and usually very quickly, but if left incomplete, could be the most destructive, damaging experience of a lifetime.
lets us just "do right" and see what happens. Good men achieve their true, deepest dreams of happiness, correct? It is my understanding that things must work this way in some karmic, epic movie-ending like way.
Somehow I will have this.
Is this another false clinging to a few profound words, maybe even accidental ones? Is this just another path to a painful, poor choice based on heart driven madness and passion that is truly one sided nothingness to be played?
I can do absolutely anything, even be the best, but is it really just to fuel it with such passion? There are reasons to do right, passion brings the greatest results, and usually very quickly, but if left incomplete, could be the most destructive, damaging experience of a lifetime.
lets us just "do right" and see what happens. Good men achieve their true, deepest dreams of happiness, correct? It is my understanding that things must work this way in some karmic, epic movie-ending like way.
Somehow I will have this.
cracked
I am all over with worthless emotion and absurd dreams. I cannot give, I know I must, I have been nothing but trying for so long, it's not in me, it is too true and too real to deny it. I cannot stand it, it is the greatest feeling in the world, the most wretched, painful pleasure of any kind. It sickens me and makes me stronger. It drives me and collapses my whole being. It is my core and my fraudulent shell.
Cured, in temperary bursts.
Another slump of blatant failure, many influences to descend but a drive to not let it. Finding no "other worldly" ways to block it, it is time for another long, draining and charging bender. The alcoholic benders, the three day parties, the sexcapades, etc., must alternate with each other. Which brings me to the all important work bender. A few weeks of constant, intense, focus on important jobs, projects and ideas breaking through and accomplished. I am back to juggling three jobs and I have added at least two other serious personal projects in the mix, such as prep for a gallery and even some fucking expression. Weekends are just days. Sunlight is unnecessary. Sleep is such a waste. I wonder where I could be if I kept my head straight and just knew how to balance all of this shit. If I didn't crash. I have a headache.
Well this is a fucking joke.
A pathetic rut of repetitive disappointment. I do not know what to feel anymore. I cannot see anything solidly sure of a future other than the failures and shortcomings sure to come.
My heart still belongs in a place it will never be, my mind is only free in a world that no longer exists.
I feel empty, as I should and always will.
My heart still belongs in a place it will never be, my mind is only free in a world that no longer exists.
I feel empty, as I should and always will.
H B day...
I have no future, no career, no prospects, my soul mate said "fuck you", I have no children, I have little to no physical possessions (even fewer I care about) and nothing to show for thirty-fucking-seven years of existence, at least twenty years of effort with nothing to say or be as a result. I'm nothing at this point, I'd rather be bitching about my "settled" life and it's mild pleasures but instead I have nothing but regret and loss. Nothing. Oh fuck, nothing.
Here again
There's nothing like that Sunday morning crash of reality engaging crippling depression and a new found emptiness.
You miserable little prick
I cannot breathe, the clouds are growing and building a pressure that cannot be contained or released. Rolls of transparent thought trickle and serpentine the filthy textures of warm existence. Passages enclose further, restrict what little flow there once was. Electric nails prod and scratch where stones meet. There's an annoying haze on everything.
It's only a little worse than before...
I should have just kept all of this to myself. That was a bad idea to be sure. O, I am full of those. Such as career choice, thinking I was worthy of chasing dreams, following my fucking "heart", not ending it all in an explosive blaze of glory when I had the chance, the choice to continue, to assume things would improve with time and effort. No, no, no. It was all the wrong way.
Keep your fucking mouth shut. Do not ask for help, pity, or most importantly: love. One cannot ask for life, one cannot ask for anything. Take what you want but know that nothing is ever yours. Only solitude, regret, self-worth (and the lack of) is yours.
Why did you do that? Why would you even say anything? Ah, foolish self. Shut off your mind. You know you're fucked, you know what you did and what you deserve. You know you are exactly what you are.
I want to quit so badly. Who fucking cares anyway? Being strong headed is over rated, really means nothing. No one even notices, not even me.
Stop, stop this all. I am sorry. Sorry to all, sorry to me. Sorry I showed up. Sorry for ever trying.
10 Days...
Keep your fucking mouth shut. Do not ask for help, pity, or most importantly: love. One cannot ask for life, one cannot ask for anything. Take what you want but know that nothing is ever yours. Only solitude, regret, self-worth (and the lack of) is yours.
Why did you do that? Why would you even say anything? Ah, foolish self. Shut off your mind. You know you're fucked, you know what you did and what you deserve. You know you are exactly what you are.
I want to quit so badly. Who fucking cares anyway? Being strong headed is over rated, really means nothing. No one even notices, not even me.
Stop, stop this all. I am sorry. Sorry to all, sorry to me. Sorry I showed up. Sorry for ever trying.
10 Days...
Stop
I don't want to do this anymore. I don't enjoy anything anymore, there is such bleak emptiness and surges of pain and loss. I really don't...
Yes?
What the fuck am I doing? I'm a mess, I'm sure I've an ulcer. I have four jobs and three girlfriends, I'm still fucking broke and lonely. I've created nothing, felt so little, given up so much, I cannot see a thing. I need everything and deserve none of it but I don't even know why it is. It just is, as it always is. I'm tired, I'm bored, I'm sick and alone. Self loathing poet of nonsense. Too much, not enough, nothing happens, things are, they do and will. Oh, you fool, you had it all when you had nothing. Here. Just take it. I no longer desire it or anything else.
That was unexpectedly expected.
My little honey sends me on my way, the "you know I don't want to hurt you, but..." routine. Thats ok, walk in a cold drizzling rain that is bent on extinguishing my cigarette to my car, oh a ticket, thats so 80's. I'll happily pluck that love note out from under my wiper.Toss it into the back seat with the rest of my feelings. Thats ok too. Oh look, I'm out of money and get nothing for two weeks. Many wise decisions were made, many things panned out to ultimate satisfactions. Everything is fine...
Thursday night (late)
Sore dizzying planted scrolls of the minds wasted times and efforts bringing out the worst in the highest peak of great times. Fusing stupidity with nectar and oily sparks trace the letters on the wall as I lay thoughtless and consumed with revelations personal. Letting the mind go, letting the facts fall to the side in slippery flashes of importance. Once there was a.
Sibleyteenthity
Through good and bad. Unexpected challenges and obstructions, even bizarrely so in times. This forever family has to go too. I will get as much from it as I can with what's left of it. Life is nearly over, truly shorter than they say. Every little piece left of odd numbered days must be used in its full potential, if in no other way than emotional peaks. Everything is so liquid and temporary.
"and so we dance and drink and screw, because there's nothing else to do"
-pulp
Lose yourself within yourself while being yourself. Pure, real and fucked up.
This is all too specific.
Candles burning of piss and coffee stained televisions cooling tiny rooms of dust erupting from voids north and east. Just look when you must, only when getting up. Stumble to another flickering light and find release. Cycle it up. Roll it, repeat. Do what you must. Find what you need. You will just keep waking up. One cannot deny the paper sound effects and simulated warmth. Brief as it all is. There is the moment. Then there is nothing, then maybe another moment. Mostly nothing, but enjoy what you can and don't bitch in between.
Watching how cold it is has helped improve my wages.
Those cords will never fit.
"and so we dance and drink and screw, because there's nothing else to do"
-pulp
Lose yourself within yourself while being yourself. Pure, real and fucked up.
This is all too specific.
Candles burning of piss and coffee stained televisions cooling tiny rooms of dust erupting from voids north and east. Just look when you must, only when getting up. Stumble to another flickering light and find release. Cycle it up. Roll it, repeat. Do what you must. Find what you need. You will just keep waking up. One cannot deny the paper sound effects and simulated warmth. Brief as it all is. There is the moment. Then there is nothing, then maybe another moment. Mostly nothing, but enjoy what you can and don't bitch in between.
Watching how cold it is has helped improve my wages.
Those cords will never fit.
O life
Where have you taken me? St. Louis it is. Here for money, here for fuel. Time to sleep, time to work, when in time to get fucked up and forget the rest. Here I am.
Oh, oh yes.
Not to sound as a dick and say what you will to deny it, but I know I am an amazing lover.
Holy fuck, Jon Stewert is funny
Still going nowhere, interviews and increments of incomes, nothing to advance. I continue on with external motivations and distractions. I only get to fuck on weekends, but it's enough of a release to keep me going. Out of drugs.
Updates
Stay "tuned", I have some very important things to say and will presenting these topics and further information very soon. Of absolute and significance.
Yes.
Indeed.
Soon.
Need warmth badly.
Slip.
Sleep?
Yes.
Indeed.
Soon.
Need warmth badly.
Slip.
Sleep?
New
Laptop is gone, everything gone, thousands of pictures, thousands and weeks of music: gone. Fuck. Everything always leaves me in dismay, damn this.
That truth thing
My teeth are not stained with lies. I have so rarely lied aloud. Only simple lies, to cops or miscellaneous authorities etc. nothing real, nothing effective. No one cared. But my mind, on the other hand, is filthy with lies. To myself, who I am, who everyone else is, what the fuck life is.
Lying is generally a hated characteristic, whenever one describes a horrible person and aspects making them so, carelessness with truth is often emphasized. Caught up in the pain and frustration makes one hated, even considered evil. But I, only lie to myself. The entire struggle and hatred is within. When lies and reality collide and explode upon me, I am left in confusion, pain, hatred, left to be considered wrong and evil when truly I was only ignorant and foolish and completely self-inflicted.
Lying is generally a hated characteristic, whenever one describes a horrible person and aspects making them so, carelessness with truth is often emphasized. Caught up in the pain and frustration makes one hated, even considered evil. But I, only lie to myself. The entire struggle and hatred is within. When lies and reality collide and explode upon me, I am left in confusion, pain, hatred, left to be considered wrong and evil when truly I was only ignorant and foolish and completely self-inflicted.
i am sick
I am so confused. I know how to find happiness, I know what makes me whole, I know everything but it just isn't working. I hate myself again, i sicken myself with my existence and failures, dreams are a joke, I've known this for a long time now, all I crave is simplistic bursts of feeling good for as long as it can last. I want to quit it all, run away from my brain.
why am I hated?
why am I wrongly loved?
what am I worth to anyone or anything?
I feel nothing but a lack of everything, sadness and a dark future.
I cannot even hold down a blasted rut of repeating small opportunites of little pleasures. I have feelings inside me that I long for and make me sick.
Am I hated, or do I just hate myself?
why am I hated?
why am I wrongly loved?
what am I worth to anyone or anything?
I feel nothing but a lack of everything, sadness and a dark future.
I cannot even hold down a blasted rut of repeating small opportunites of little pleasures. I have feelings inside me that I long for and make me sick.
Am I hated, or do I just hate myself?
There aren't enough drugs
O what is the point anyway? I really don't think anything matters at this juncture. Id like to just pay back a few debts complete and disappear, figuratively, then literally, from myself and the world.
I have an itch I cannot reach,
I have an itch I cannot reach,
that's kind of fucked up, dude...
Stuck in such uncomfortable places. Lonesome, horned conversations long leading to disappointment with a fist of reality of what is not. I eat, drink and wear my chemicals. They are enough but no where near what I need. Every attempt at satisfaction, even contentment, leaves me craving more, further, or for things I will never have. True and untruthed things, you knew it was like this.
The itch is always far too deep within my skull. I cannot run away from it. Sleep it off, work it off, wank it off.
The itch is always far too deep within my skull. I cannot run away from it. Sleep it off, work it off, wank it off.
Wrong, all wrong.
I have no idea. I have overdone it all. I went the wrong direction, let it slip too far. I do not know of any future, I do not know or feel of dreams. Goals are the simplest requirements of life and never look ahead or long term further than a week or so.
Now I'm lost.
Even more.
But I occasionally have "fun" and am generally free of darkness and bleak views of things that may or may not be there. Thinking less, zoned out, impulsive yet following a rut of progression lacking change.
Be stupid, laugh at everything, fuck everyone, mock the idea of frustration or anger or dare to try, depression.
It's fine, I got a nice couple of shirts today. True vintage. I think I'll sell them. Then I will buy tea with the vantage. Yes.
That is what it is now. Getting by/high. Literally and painfully so. But not so dismal a way as chemicals provide much suppression, as well as the "excitement" of spontaneity and change mixed with anticipation of the unknown, unlived, projects of existence.
It's ok.
Now I'm lost.
Even more.
But I occasionally have "fun" and am generally free of darkness and bleak views of things that may or may not be there. Thinking less, zoned out, impulsive yet following a rut of progression lacking change.
Be stupid, laugh at everything, fuck everyone, mock the idea of frustration or anger or dare to try, depression.
It's fine, I got a nice couple of shirts today. True vintage. I think I'll sell them. Then I will buy tea with the vantage. Yes.
That is what it is now. Getting by/high. Literally and painfully so. But not so dismal a way as chemicals provide much suppression, as well as the "excitement" of spontaneity and change mixed with anticipation of the unknown, unlived, projects of existence.
It's ok.
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