Isolation-I

He was pleading with her now, the nerve. Her eyes narrowed even as he continued to speak, his own burning brighter with every small step he took in her direction. It was just wrong. It was the last chance either of them had, and she wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to tell him what she had come here to say, burn with the fierceness of his cruel, taunting words and then leave when the daggers turned into ice, confident in her ability to walk away. And, he was enraged; she could feel it in the way his presence seemed to fill the room, in the way his jaw clenched, so painfully that, for a second, she had to fight the urge to run to him and apologize, beg forgiveness for whatever had caused him to be so angry with her.. Until she remembered what she had come to say.

Except, something was wrong.

She couldn't move away, couldn't avert her gaze, couldn't leave, and she didn't know what to do with the way he allowed his words to caress her, promise her, reassure her.. just as he had done countless number of times before. Never with words, though. That wasn't allowed for him. Not by either of them. Her throat constricted as she realized what that meant. He already knew..

But, she still couldn't leave. Not when his eyes darkened as he spoke, cajoling her exhausted mind to remember what they had never really acknowledged. He was breaking their rules, and she was watching, mesmerized, even as their binds on him strengthened and loosened, the restraints digging deeper and deeper into his very being. And she watched him, until she was certain that he would not refrain, would not relent. And that is when she knew; They were already caged. Always had been. Except theirs was meant to keep the world out. And she couldn't leave him alone in here, not when his eyes glinted at her, sharp and loud in the moonlight, even though his voice was quiet. Not while she could count exactly how many steps she would have to take to reach him. Not while he said her name, over and over, in a voice, which she realized would never fade, never stop echoing..

There was no escape.

Burning

Even though. Albeit.

But still. Nevertheless.

Always. Forever. Never. Eternity.

Sharp. Trouble. Chaos. Silence.

Over & Over.

Thin and Razor-sharp. Old & faded. New. Crisscrossed.

Ashes and Dust.

Always & forever & never & for all eternity.

(though, I imagine they're all the same)

Ungrateful child. Wretched child. Vicious, Stray, Lost child.

But, everyone deserves a lullaby.

And God doesn't forsake any of his children.

Except, the words are gone.

Cut & strewn & scattered in the wind

(like the letters you never sent)

And the frozen moments knock the wind out of me,

sometimes.

I think they must be memories.

Except I keep forgetting what I should remember

while other thoughts come unbidden

Wicked girl. Cruel girl. Sharp, Angry, Crumbling girl.

Always on Fire.

Just a Thought

.
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.

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

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

Maybe

Are things really getting better or are we just getting better at accepting them?

Either way, don't think about it now, you'll only make it worse.

Things change.

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

Goodbye July...

Watching smoke makes me feel sane again.

Ash is definite evidence, but what good does it ever do?

What shall we use to complete the wall?

Memories.

Bury memories with memories.

Bad with good.

And good with bad.

You know what's the only thing worse than the calm before a storm?
The calm after it.

I like where I am and I hate the fact that time won't stop carrying me away.

We contradict ourselves and we burn and we die.

We're all unforgiven.

And maybe that's all there is to it.

Maybe.

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Now playing: Shiro Sagisu - never meant to belong
via FoxyTunes

Untitled

I love September's skies.

"Things happen for a reason."

I don't want to know.

You know what I like best about music? It's such selfless company. It never wants anything from you. And I love the way some songs stick to the insides of your thoughts, constantly dripping melodies that tickle the back of your mind. Like ice-cold rain drops trickling down your spine. You know they're there, but only because you feel it. And maybe, it is just in your head?

I told her I'd be there at Sunset.

Too late, darling. Dawn is breaking everywhere.

Light?

You know... it smells like rain...

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Now playing: Grateful Dead - Touch of Grey
via FoxyTunes

Wasn't me

I was there when it all happened, but that was not me.

"So long ago, so far away,
Was everything truly there?”

- Todd Willingham

Everything was.
I wasn't.

Sailing Sinking Ships

.

We live in constant fear, tired and paranoid eyes scanning the gray seas for any signs of their ships. They wish to hunt us down like the supposed criminals we are. Criminals? We are, but mere, dreamers. We do not believe in their petty Gods of selfish goals and pretty furniture. And for that, we are watched and hunted and live under the constant threat of exile.

Exile! But if there were only a place to run away to! Oh well, the world is round and we've been sailing for years. If we knew where this world ended, there would be no need to wander the seas for, what could only be, eternity.

There are many among us who believe that the right boat will come along to pick us up, even though it means doing little more than waiting forever. These men live in the inner cabins of the ship, which they've decorated to look like ordinary homes, barely aware of the journey itself. Many fall asleep holding on to memories that stopped being valuable a hundred thousand years ago.

There are a few who leave us, on small boats, convinced that there is no point in this journey. Often, they return once they realize that the night is a thousand times darker when you are alone. Sometimes, we never see them again.

There are those who believe that the shore will appear on the horizon if we just keep sailing. But we've been sailing for an eternity. The World is round. But I do not have the heart to remind them.

There are some who sit on the wooden deck under moonlit skies and talk in hushed voices. I join them, sometimes, if only to see the stars reflecting in their otherwise tired eyes; faces suddenly years younger than they appear to be under the glaring light of the sun. Their company makes this voyage bearable. Their thoughts make my soul want to cry out at the unfairness of our flight. Their dreams make me smile. Their hope spreads like flames from a candle kept too close to too many sheets of paper.

And then there are those who have thrown themselves into the raging seas, convinced in the madness of stormy nights and thunderous skies, that the only land there is to find lies many many miles under the water's surface. I have seen many rescued from such a plight. And I have seen many faces gasping for air before the waters claimed them forever. I have said many goodbyes.

I choke and drown on memories that have long left the insides of my mind. I think I made a mistake when I turned it inside-out. Now the whole world is in my head. And there's no place left for me in there, anymore.

I have no country to return to. And the land we set out sailing towards seems to be nowhere in sight. This ship and it's crew is the only world that exists tonight. But even the hushed voices of the people with stars in their eyes can't drown out the screams of the drowning. Perhaps the only land that exists is really a thousand miles under water.

They never told us that you couldn't sail the moonlight to the moon...

I think our ship is sinking.

.

The Endless Story

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Break-up season is here again. Not that it makes any difference to me, personally. But everyone around me seems to be losing their mind. I'd laugh if it weren't so sad. And once again, I'm sixteen years old, convincing an old friend not to go ahead with her grand plan of revenge. It's a year later and I'm sneaking out of my home and into a friend's, eyes on the bottle she won't let go off. That was all so long ago... I guess some things never change.

It should be a comforting thought, in this crazy crazy world. But... it's not. If everything has to change, why can't the sad things change too? Why won't the things that are wrong, change? It's a messed up place, and it seems like it's only the beautiful things that we're all out to destroy.

In a world like this one, there's nothing to do, but survive. You do what you can. And you do what you have to. If everything was always pleasant, the rain wouldn't mean a thing. And every silver lining's got a touch of gray.

But, in the end, words are words. And they can be forgotten. Or remembered even when they were never exchanged. Like smoke, words are swirling, hazy and momentary. Memories are nothing but the stale scent of smoke clinging to your clothes.

Change, darling.
It's all you can do.

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Now playing: Pink Floyd - Comfortably Numb
via FoxyTunes

And Autumn Frosts Have Slain July...

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I was supposed to do some history research today. Unfortunately, the canceled future brought with it a busy and surreal present. And just when I was done with it all, the past caught up with me again. You know what the past is like. Everyone does. It finds you no matter where you run to or where you hide.

Oh, you can escape the Future if you try hard enough. Losing the present is the simplest thing in the world. But, the Past? The Past will always find you, no matter how far you go...

I'm running out of places to run to...

And if not sanctuary, can you give me some shelter from this storm?

Nevermind

.

Where is my mind?

.

I find myself thinking of winter, as I once did all through the year. Winter is my favorite season. Even the things that go wrong don't bother you as much as they do in the summer. I'm sure it has something to do with the sun. I suppose, in winter, the cold helps.

Monsoons are for pleasant melancholy mornings spent listening to the sounds of the skies rumbling above the music, wondering why you aren't in class. This attendance issue is really beginning to bother me. I don't understand why it's so hard just to get to class. It's just that I'm so weary...

I think it's a dark night. Not that I'd dare venture on to the terrace. I wouldn't come back for too long. And then I'd have trouble getting to class tomorrow too.

I should get some research done for my history consultation. I think today was the last day. And I also have to get a medical certificate.

I spoke to Emma a few nights ago. I remember the base with its safe walls. I remember the base with its iron bars. The golf course, counting stars. It was a fun time. And "My back pages" is playing now. ^_^ I love it when situation-fitting music plays. I was so much older then, I am younger than that now. I remember the frantic phone calls and sneaking out. The webs of million lies we all got ourselves entangled in; things that were so much bigger than any of us. Than all of us... It feels so strange to think back. I can still see Foreshore Road in my mind. That infinite stretch of blackness with dots of lights glowing along the water's edge. I remember every tree, every turn, every sign-post...

But dwelling on the past isn't something you can afford to do when the present is constantly turning into the past at a pace you can barely keep up with. And I've left those days so far behind. Survival is of primary importance. There isn't any place in this world for the things we dreamed of. And the things we thought we were fighting for... well, they never existed in the first place. I won't lie, it had it's own charm. The feeling that we were actually making some sort of difference. The problem is, in hindsight, I see the mistakes we made glow brighter than the things we did right. And it's a painful realization to have; that we are still living with the consequences of our actions as naive children who thought they'd seen the world. What does a night-owl know about the beauty of dawn? What does a bat know about the wrath of the sun? Mere glimpses. Next to nothing.

I think the last two years are catching up to me. It was bound to happen, and I'm just surprised it took so long. Miss Sunshine, in a moment of profundity, recently said "I don't know why, but this feels like the end." The world is ending, darling. For if something is changed to such a degree that it has next to nothing left of the original matter, it isn't called an amendment, it's an abrogation. And fundamental rights are all about the government and power. Politics.

Everything creeps up everywhere else and I'm getting lost in the million multicolored ribbons I'm using to connect it all. But at least I now know what near-total loss of control feels like. It's scary, but it is a rush.

Anyhow, I have wasted enough time. I really should try and read up some history. Goodnight folks. Hopefully, my next post won't be during class hours tomorrow.



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Now playing: Lounge Piranha - Gun Song
via FoxyTunes

Sanctuary

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It's funny how the scariest places feel the safest sometimes. I suppose it has something to do with the island theory. Sanctuary. I fear the concept, but it still distracts me. I'm just afraid of the price we shall all have to pay. And it keeps getting worse. They said Rock n' Roll would never die, but it's dead... and we're still floating in the same old requiem. Everything is forgotten eventually. Most of us just don't live that long. Be glad.

I used to know where I was going, even if it was just a place in my head. Now... well, I can't tell anymore. And I really do try to care, but I don't...

Maybe nothing ever changes. Maybe whatever does change does so only inside our own heads. I don't know anymore. And now, I can't even be sure I ever did.

Where is my mind?
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Now playing: Bob Dylan - It's All Over Now, Baby Blue
via FoxyTunes

Untitled

.

Some memories should be forgotten

But you can't tell now which memory has what purpose to serve. And we learn the most from our darkest hours. We are who we are today because of the choices that we made. One must make peace with himself before he can even begin to deal with a demon. Peace is such a long term feeling, it's okay to use substitutes. (And they are expensive.)

Oh well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that: Memories are the cause of all misery, but sometimes they help when nothing else can. They really are so very necessary...

.

Evening

The golden rays stream through the barely green trees, illuminating the dying leaves as a last helpless tribute to the glory that was once theirs. Now, all that's left of the forgotten days of old are these dying giants, dwarfed by the mass of ugly concrete growing all around.

I lie here, on this gray roof under these gray skies, burning through with a guilt I can't understand and a sense of fast fading responsibility. There was nothing I could do. There is nothing I can do. Not anymore... I would have liked to burn bright and fast, like the falling embers from this last cigarette. Instead, I can only unravel, my thoughts bleeding into the heavy air as I try to hold on to memories it would do me well to forget. I fade, a dull reddish scar from an injury so long forgotten, that even the birds don't remember.

And I wait for the dark...

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Now playing: Pink Floyd - High Hopes
via FoxyTunes

End Of The World

It was the end of the world as we knew it.
And I didn't even know.
Now it's too late for goodbyes.
And we're left with the rest of eternity for silent regrets.

Was Neverland really only a dream?
I think we made it up inside my head.

How shall you complete the wall?
Use memories, Mr. Pink. Use memories.

Untitled

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Wrong, he says, anger in the softest touch.
I laugh.
Not at the attempt, but to drown the fall.
Even empty streets have ears.
And Pride is fragile despite her wrath.

Lost, she says, crystal sympathy in pale blue orbs.
Startle me.
Captivate me.
Save me?
and I can't even try.
Turn the sun in her eyes, flee into the night.
You'll never catch me alive.

I would stay, like I once said
but I really have to go
Dodging hooks that fall like rain
is easier on my own

Confused, he declares, holding on cheerfully
to a crumbling dying past.
And all our worlds crash around us
like shattering crystal glass.
(I don't like it.
I know; please don't cry?)

I would reach out and touch you
But you're not really there
Dodging hooks that fall like rain
I know better than to care


Inarticulate, like the fishes on your wall, she says.
I pretend not to listen.
But I know.
We're all caught in undeserved pasts
She only continues to smile
While I sweep up the glass
.

Can't Catch Me

.

I'm breaking my own vows, knowing I'll go down in flames.

I'd rather burn bright for a night than fade away year after year.

Memories are too fragile.

So are Humans.

Shattering shattering glass.

Watch me break into a million little pieces.

Watch me shine as I shatter.

You can't catch all of me.

And all you believe to be so precious

It's just a piece of polished stone...

You can't catch all of me.

Unless you're the vast blue sky.

And if you were, I would escape to the stars.
You can't catch all of me...

Theory - Over it!

Being over something, be it a song, book, movie, person or situation, does not really mean anything more than forgetting what being obsessed with that made you feel like. With songs, you usually hear them too often and get desensitized. With most other things, you simply forget.