Customary Holiday Post - 1

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It feels weird to be here again, considering how many lifetimes have gone by since I had something to say. Not that I have anything in particular to say tonight, but the silence is killing me. I hate silences, the way one would hate an especially rotten smell. It isn't just a mental sort of loathing, but an overwhelming physical sensation that makes you clench your teeth and steel your insides.

I'm home again.

The real problem with silence is that it can't be drowned out. I'm fairly certain of this, because I've tried everything. And the only thing that ever helps is screaming inside your head. But even that doesn't work if you can't find your voice. And I think I've lost mine.

I haven't been able to write for too long now. I think it's because every time I decide I want to try, the letters rush into each other, melting together like some sort of soup mix gone horribly wrong until I can't tell whether they're saying anything at all. It takes every bit of strength I can muster to just separate them from one another and read them as words. Usually I can manage that.

Sometimes I can't.

When things go wrong, you can draw upon an inner strength that kicks in like some sort of dependable electricity-generator. But when the only problem is one with the voltage, there's nothing to do but try and finish reading your novel in the flickering light, hoping you don't miss out on something important that would have completely transformed your life.

I can't understand time. And it feels like space itself is playing some twisted prank on me, trailing me with shadows and tricking me into believing that I'm never by myself. Clawing through curtains makes my fingernails bleed, and it tortures me that the only physical evidence left behind is smudged kohl and chalk under my nails.

I used to know where I was going, even though I pretended otherwise. Now, I feel out of focus, like a photograph taken from a shaky camera on a star studded night. Frozen in perpetual blurriness. Like a snowflake. Unique if you bother to put it under a microscope, but just a tiny, falling, melting piece of ice otherwise.

I have become my own dream. But there's nothing more to destroy here. And I can barely hide in the areas of this canvas that are still devoid of paint, pen marks and blood. Thank God for stainless tears.

The carousel is making me sick, and I keep telling myself I'll jump off when it completes one more circle. Except I can't tell the beginning from the middle from the end.. And I've almost come to believe that there is no difference. Maybe it never began. Maybe it will never end.

I'm still going to jump though. Regardless of whether or not Prince Charming or the Snow Queen reward me with their promised kiss of life. And if I manage to melt the glass in your eye as I sail through the air, I'll crash magnificently to the ground, shining in all sorts of colors as you cry for perceived sacrifices.

But, time is so much faster than I can be. And it's running out the rabbit hole. I thought Wonderland was beautiful, and I still think so. But the paint is peeling off the walls and I'm beginning to think this was only a cheap imitation. Or maybe it's dying.

And I'm so dizzy...

Sorry

Dear Sister,

How could you let them walk all over you?
Why didn't you walk away?
How could you stand and do nothing but watch?
Didn't you have a thing to say?

Why do you persist dear girl?
Why can't you let them be?
The heart's a fickle friend, babe
And today, his is with me.

-
love,
Mary J.

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Now playing: Staind - Outside (Full band)
via FoxyTunes

Touches of Gray

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Shades of gray are all that count in the end. Because Heaven and Hell is all about Black and White. I like Gray. Colors are cunning little creatures. They're after your soul. And debt is easy. The older you get, the more pointless dreams become. They're also more valuable. But what's the use of riches you can't sell? You try everything, but in the end there's only one carved out road your poor knees can take. Bleeding feet don't go well with twisted forests, but that's what you get for wandering off in the first place. This world isn't kind to strays and there isn't anything any body can do to change that.

The things that don't make sense are the ones that often make all the difference in your life.
And hating them doesn't make them go away.
Go ahead.
Close your eyes.
You know I'm right.

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Now playing: Audioslave - Set It Off
via FoxyTunes

Never Coming Down?

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Thoughts.

War.
Bullet-proof glass that shatters on impact.
Smoke screens and hazy red lights.
Years.
Never.
Take.
Give.
Hot, searing knives.
Slide.
How long?
'Open my head just to see what I can find'.
Phases and Moods.
Everything.
Want.
Nothing.
Not in Denial.
Memories.
Can't reach.
Smirk.
Revenge.
Rush.

...

Black.
Dresses and Butterflies.

...
..
.
Fly?

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Just a Thought

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November's ending and I haven't seen a storm. It's all incomplete. But perhaps that only means that we have to write our own endings. But I can only think in echoes. And you don't need us.

We do what we can.

Don't we?

Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. There's really nothing more to it.

I'm sailing on the other side now.

Free

and

Gone.

RPG

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We're all just playing roles. Sometimes you are me and I am you and they are us and we are them, but nothing ever changes except the clouds I find floating around me. Sheep are sacrifices. Humans are martyrs. Gods are invincible. And the proud are punished.

Rain will fall. Legends will be born. Memories will die. The wrath of vengeful gods may fall upon us. But we will laugh our way through it all. Because that's the only road that's there for the lost. And the dead walk beside us.

Some things can not be buried deep enough. Some ghosts never leave. Some clouds slowly choke you to death.

I'm done chasing rainbows. I like this rabbit hole. This time, the sky will have to find me. And I can always hide on the moon.

Stars stay in corners of your eyes. And sometimes you can remember how to fly, even if you never even dreamed of doing so. The world is strange, and we're all locked in tight.

Here's a secret.
The key is the slow steady destruction of your soul.

Everything/Nothing

It's all about schisms.

How do you sail across nothingness?

You make me calm the way curling smoke does.

From the inside.

Is the war over?

It's the Aftermath that's hard to live with.

How do you stop time?

We can't get clean again.

Where would you go to if you could go wherever it is that you want to go to?

How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Blow my house down.

I'm gone,
gone,
gone.

Where did you go?

I want to implode

But I have no pockets.

The insides of my mind are crumbling, melting, twisting.

Sweet November.

Where would you go?

The chains were never really there, but I'm too weary to fly.

And how do you escape the sky?

I'm so much younger than that now.

Will I remember how to fly?

Some dreams are worth staying in.
Some realities deserve escaping.
Some habits are impossible to break.

Why?
Just.

God doesn't forsake any of his children.

Is the world the wrong way up or is it just me?

I was only a reflection.
Catch me if you can?

I looked through the looking glass and I don't want to go back.
I like the Other side.
And why would I climb when I know how to fly?
How long will I slide?

Nothing can be explained.

Say it isn't so.

But it is and all the highways in the world are to hell.

I don't leave footsteps, I leave skid-marks.
Burn me a tattoo on my soul, darling?
'cause I am the highway...

Where did you go?

As much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

Oh. Must be just me, then.

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ

Holiday Post

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Realized I couldn't leave without a customary holiday post. But I was going to. Which is strange. I guess things change.

No more food whenever I want
(except there is)

No more cold,
white
metal bars that leave lines
and lines
and hurt

No more endless sleeplessness
(except there is)

No more soft, warm comfort
(except there is)

No more sobriety
Hell, yeah!



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Now playing: Lounge Piranha - Ebb
via FoxyTunes

Between the Bars

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I lean closer to the cold white bars hoping believing needing to think that the glowing lights in the sky are fake unreal false just like the lying comfort offered by a box full of twenty entire cigarettes knowing that we'll only crush destroy burn BREATHE in Breathe out breathe in STOP Run through fields that won't stop being green cold lovely even though they change morph melt merge like the insides of my mind after so long without smoke curling through my veins heart lungs NEEDING the steady chaotic destruction set in motion years months lifetimes ago REMEMBERING so little of promises lies laughter that only rings out loud in waves like nausea THINKING of unhappier times when the world was still the right way up even though it was easier harder the same and right things were decided by how hard it was to do them NOW it's burning cold hot CONFUSING me utterly completely entirely even though it's easier nicer more comfortable despite words running through my head like so much for Undying LOYALTY and becoming someone else for someone else who turns to someone else until I am you and you are me and there is no me because there is no you except things change morph blur like LINES that were crossed obeyed cut into little dots that rearrange themselves into rants that no one UNDERSTANDS including those they bleed from like rain tears vodka FORGETTING remembering wanting needing hating leaving because there are only so many things to choose from when decisions that can't be made are made in the vacuum of facts information MEMORIES that need to be buried with good and bad and good and bad until windows are closed against the cold November air except it's the wrong room state world because movies are NOT real life though they creep crawl laugh their way in while I lean against the cold metal bars looking at glowing lights that mock taunt laugh ECHOING endlessly until I leave quit die.



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Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Otherside
via FoxyTunes

Changing Constants; The Liars!

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The constant flickering glow, she said. I didn't hear her, but she came to my window at midnight, whispering the same echoing words. They're still reverberating inside my head. A constant flickering echo.

Why?
Because it fits in times of absolute nothingness.

Absolute is an extreme term.
So is life.

Stories can only have happy endings if you know when to stop telling them. I hate second chances. Too many expectations.
And we live to disappoint.

I want you to know, but only after there's nothing you can do about it. Information is power and I would never let anyone have that kind of control over me.
Unless I was promised certain destruction?
(I still won't believe you)

Electric chair, two years. Rings a bell.
Bad joke or good joke in bad taste?

It's hard to tell sometimes...
especially if it's your own darkness you're humoring.
That's dark, but self-demeaning isn't defaming. You need a third party. Outside your head.
Tsk.
Retarded clauses.

Things and reasons and seasons change.
Why can't I?
There's no point in knocking on locked doors.
Especially when you're the one who lost the keys.

I don't know which way to pick
and the sun will always be in my eyes
I want to fly.
But I don't want you to wait to catch me, because I think I may remember how to.
And then what would you do?

Echoes fade and memories die
Autumn frosts have slain July...

Are you afraid?
No.
You should be...

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The World

Can't risk it. Either way. If you know there's an electric chair waiting for you at the end of two years, life can easily become quite pointless. At least you burn, and not drown. Would you remind me to breathe?

Thoughts should always be accompanied with a sub-title file. Or you should be allowed to talk in pictures. I wish everyone would paint. Giving up is easier in a gray world. The trick is to keep the black and white from separating.

The only constant that should be allowed to flicker is fire. And fire doesn't like being called a constant.

Is something eluding you, sunshine?
Join the club, darling.


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Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - She Looks To Me
via FoxyTunes

Seasons

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The season of change is still here. Whether or not things are going to stay different is something only time knows. Secrets are burned or buried. Life is pointless, but there's nothing wrong with that. You can't destroy fairy dust. And dead fairies live only as long as you believe in them. I'm not me, but no one really is.

I don't know what tomorrow is going to bring or take away. And what I don't know about, I can't control. Ignorance may not be bliss, but it can come pretty close. Neglect works pretty well too... if you can kill off your conscience.

Even if I could fly, I wouldn't be able to get to the moon. And every single time I try, there's someone waiting to catch me. Tight ropes and burned bridges are fun to walk on. Because you know there are only two ways off. Either you reach the other side or you fall. It's all about balance. And you can't lose what you never had.

I used to think that you could only give what you have. But that isn't completely true. Sometimes you can give away borrowed things, even if you have no right to do so. You have to pay for everything, but that doesn't mean you can't get what you can't afford. You just collect debt. I'll deal with it later. Infinite debt plus a little more is still an infinite amount. And there's no point in worrying about things you can't change.

A fall from here won't be fatal.
And that is what worries me...

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Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - She Looks To Me
via FoxyTunes

Update

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In one lifetime, there are lots of things people do that they wish they never had. But as long as you can find a box to throw all your old memories in, they won't interfere with today. As long as you remember to lock the doors.

Things change constantly, and no matter how miserable the world looks, sometimes you have to wait out the storm. Marvel at the rain while it falls. It's a memory you won't visit too often. And these kind of things can not be forgotten.

I'm done here. I've been done for a while. But borrowed time is still time. And the places you go to, after the show's over, won't let me in.

I think I've gone away again. But this vacation isn't like the others. I don't know if I'm coming back. And it's really alright. Because borrowed time is still time. And I hate being in debt.

September's nearly over. October isn't really my favorite month either. But every silver lining's got a touch of gray. I like gray. And I think I rather like this cloud.


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Now playing: Plain White T's - Hey there Delailah
via FoxyTunes