Saturday, October 9
Friday, October 8
Happiness, Part Deux
Today I felt the lowest I've ever felt,
like scum.
But you made me happy.
Terrible terribleness aside,
vous m'avez fait plaisir.
PROMISES, PROMISES: "A House Is Not A Home"
If I ever see a musical on Broadway again, Kristin Chenoweth will star.
An Open Letter To You!
Yes you, you know who you are. There are a thousand questions left unanswered and I'm not going to answer them, until you ask the right question. Instead of why and who, say how and I. There are tons of questions that you need to ask yourself but you wont. You can't expect answers without the right questions. The questions; did I do something, why did you do that, is it me, etc, etc. I think the writing on the wall is pretty clear now, finally your secrets have caught up to you. Another lifetime filled with great disappointment. Ammite diem, indeed.
Thursday, October 7
3
that I have become monotonous?
Was I fun and now you've moved on
because I'm no longer offering you excitement?
You stare blankly past my eyes
and past my soul.
The very parts of me that you once loved,
and yet you no longer do.
You try and hide the fact
that I am no longer amusing to you,
but it is in fact written upon your face.
"Bored to Death"
It says.
In your eyes.
In your letter.
Just let me know, put me out of my misery
So I shall know the end is here.
2
With you here I feel lost.
As though time itself is moving slowly,
Constantly hiding and betraying my kindness.
Sometimes you make me wonder if I am too trusting.
I think about you and I see it behind your eyes,
that you are not being honest,
that you are hiding away apart of yourself from me.
Names, names and places,
anonymous places and faces.
For once I feel as though the bullet is in my heart,
all jagged and broken.
Tearing out my love,
my compassion,
and my tenderness,
my compassion,
and my tenderness,
leaving me.
Am I just an empty shell of a loveless man?
Does it not please you,
to see me hurting,
and to do nothing
and to say nothing
Nothing
Nothing
the emptiness and quietness of the hallowed soul.
Is it okay that I love you far away,
distant,
and dissonant.
Pale blank utopia
without the disillusionment of heart aches and heartpains.
You sadden me,
with all your mystery.
Mystery so mysterious
that I weep for those who know
what is the dystopian minefield of your heart
the bleakness of a world unknown.
I share
I share
feelings,
thoughts,
the truth,
but you hide and cower,
trying to shield you from the light.
The blinding and all consuming light,
you know not that it radiates from inside you.
The light is you own
you are consuming yourself.
Bright bright and drowning out the shadows,
drowning me out .
It is a cold light,
chill and bright.
Your warmth is leaving
I am left in the cold aftermath.
A devastating
and shrill
and piercing cold
that hurts to the touch,
blinds the sight, and kills happiness.
Thursday, September 23
1
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| I love the terribleness of this picture, out of focus yet expressing perfectly my idea. |
Today we should mourn the innocent.
Today we learn that the blind are truly leading the blind and as they inch towards the abyss we should do everything in our power to stop them.
Today I will not stand idly by and be a spectator to the impending demise of my dear friends.
Today I shall voice my opinion on things that matter.
Yesterday I was a buzzard watching as the world went about it's machinations.
Yesterday I was just a cog in the machine, yet today I feel as though I am that very machine.
The pieces have all fit together and they are working.
Yesterday was a lifetime ago and tomorrow may very well be the end.
But I chose to live in this moment where my sanity, compassion and the very nature of my being are not questioned.
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