..Frottis Charivari..

I will pack up my bags once again;

I will pour my memories down the drain;

But this time I will vomit on the walls

As I crawl down these empty halls

Wake up, are you still alive?

There are no curtains falling

On this young girl’s tearing heart.

The show still goes on,

The world is still round

like an orange

And there is still no home

For the nomads of this dieing world

I knew you had dissected enough

When your fingers stopped cold and rough

Frozen caress on my torn and dying skin

I held you close, as close as kin

And now your veins have grown cold

And now my heart has grown old

By Ynès et Blasé

.Arc of Time.

You can make a plan
Carve it into stone
Like a feather falling
It is still unknown
Until the clock speaks up
Says it's time to go
You could choose the high
Or the lower road
You might clinch your fist
You might fork your tongue
As you curse or praise
All the things you've done
And the faders move
And the music dies
As we pass over
On the arc of time

So you nurse your love
Like a wounded dove
In the covered cage of night
Every star is crossed
By phrenetic thoughts
That seperate and then collide
And they twist like sheets
Till you fall asleep
And they finally unwind
It's a black balloon
It's a dream you'll soon deny

I hear if you make friends
With Jesus Christ
You will get right up
From that chalk outline
And then you'll get dolled up
And you'll dress in white
All to take your place
In his chorus line

And then in you'll come
With those marching drums
In a saintly compromise
No more whiskey slurs
No more blonde haired girls
For your whole eternal life
And you'll do the dance
That was choreographed
At the very dawn of time
Saying, I told you son
The day would come
You would die, you'd die, you'd die, you'd die
You would die, you'd die, you'd die, you'd die
You would die, you'd die, you'd die, you'd die
You would die, you'd die, you'd die

To the deepest part
Of the human heart
The fear of death expands
Till we crack the code
We have always known
But could never understand
On a circuit board
We will soon be born
Again, again, again, again
And again, again, again, again
And again, again, again, again
And again, again, again

-"Bright Eyes"-

.you hold the key to my heart.  

"Bandaids Just Cover it Up"
-By Bleste

A dream? 

A Dream within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days are been a dream;
Yet if hope is flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand --
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep!
Oh God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

--Edgar Allan Poe
[I wept while reading this poem]

All That Remains is Contempt.

I was overwhelmed by a sudden realization today at how much human beings really irritate me. I often find myself faking a faint smile as I speak to these idiots or am simply so appalled by their stupidity, arrogance or simple lack of personality that I cannot even bear to look at them. I look down upon the graying earth as I walk for I cannot hold my head high any longer -- I do not find anything worth my while.
I want to be alone but I can never completely get away for you see my mind is embedded in this manic world. My thoughts are attached to all these sheep that walk the streets everyday and slowly these thoughts transform me into a mad cow or an irritated cow. I say cow for I roam this earth irritated at all in existence for causing me to be irritated with my own existence. I have become too uncaring and stupid to even attempt to drag myself out of this mess. Before I spoke of looking but not seeing, now I see but I do not have any will left to do anything about it. My will has been disintegrated at the hands of this miserable society. My soul is being withered by all the pointless and senseless social interactions.
I have always been a bit of a loner but I was not aware to what degree until this day. Perhaps the saddest part of all this is that I am a loner who is not comfortable with being alone. Not yet anyway. That's why I am the cow now. You are the sheep. You who irritate me are the sheep, all of you!

.Alone. 

..a burning silence.. 

Was it Coincidence?

Imagine meeting someone you met in a different country walking down the street.
Imagine meeting someone with the same name and last name as you.
Imagine meeting someone with the same birth date as you.
Imagine meeting someone with the same face as you.

Now what if you met someone who against all odds seemed perfect for you? Your names match. Your birth dates match. Your interests match. Your abilities match. Even your clothes match!
Was this fate? Or was it mere chance? as some would like to call it, a coincidence? A mere random arrangement of events.
Is the universe composed of a random arrangement of atoms and are all events mere probability? Or is there a powerful hand that tampers with our lives?

Well I know not. And neither do you! If you say you do, you're a dirty lier!

What I really mean instead of asking all these pointless questions is, "I cannot accept that such an event could be coincidence. How can perfection be coincidence?". You see, if perfection (or what you think is perfection) is merely a random arrangement of atoms, then maybe it can fall apart just as easily. So then really there is no perfection. And I for one cannot accept that there is no perfection because if there is no perfection then there is no love and there is no contentment. If I cannot have at least one of the above, I think I might just as well fall apart.

.Drink Like a Fish.

Yet another drunken escapade left me in a state of post drunken night depression. I woke up completely naked to my surprise this morning, thanking heavens that I was in my own bed and not lying next to a psycho killer (not that it's ever happened before but you never know!). It took a bit of convincing on my part to finally get out of bed. It was a much more difficult task than it may sound. It was done in steps. First I left my bed to walk over to my computer. Finding nothing of interest I returned to my bed. Then I drank some water hoping that the throbbing headache might disappear but alas no such luck! Sleeping for another hour, I was woken by the sound of my cell phone ringing. Apparently someone cared to know if I were alive (it was my mother.). After a few incoherent sentences had been exchanged between us, I hung up the phone to return to my land of dreams where I wouldn't have to deal with the memories of the night before and the awful feeling of physical depression that had set over me. But a little voice kept ringing in my ear, reminding me of the work still to be done. I decided I did not care and slept again. Waking up an hour later I suddenly realized that it was 3 pm and I yet had not started. But that didn't bother me as much as my hunger did (since I had emptied the contents of my stomach prior to passing out the night before). So at last, not being able to ignore the grumbling of my stomach I got out of bed, put some clothes on and went on a journey in order to feed myself. That story may follow but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.

On a different note: I was complimented on my hair by a complete stranger today. It was very nice of the stranger. Of course I already approve of my current hair style myself but it is always nice to hear it from others.

Burn baby, burn.

She stares upon the ever forbidding empty space,
Her head moves from side to side according to pace.
Silver wings of brilliance shine upon the dimly lit shrine,
She flaps one, but the other is gone,
She simply cannot go on.
Silently she weeps upon the floor
She knows not that someone is watching by the door.

Together we can take away time and space. 

wonderland. wonderland. won't you travel with me to my wonderland?  

Please tell me who I am.

Consider this: you are young. You are full of live. You are passionate. You want to experience life. But somehow it always seems as if you cannot. There are barriers that seem impossible to overcome.

They tell you that you must consider your future. It's not about what you are passionate about, it's all about money. To be realistic you must choose the safest path. You must work hard, study hard and fill the shoes of those retiring doctors and lawyers and engineering. You must be respected. You must be finically secure. In essence, study hard, work hard, fuck hard and die.

But what if I refuse? What if I do not wish this to be my end? What then? Will I be cast aside into my wonderland where I will dream of a day where I may step outside this role I play everyday, where I can be free to experience and live life? Where I will be able to have personal connections and human interactions as apposed to living this life reduced to series of meaningless movements?

I used to think this was possible, in fact probable. But as days go by I find out that it becomes a dream harder and harder to realize. I sink slowly and inevitably into a pathetic state of machine-like interactions, reduced to my basic survival instincts, where I consider the consequences of every action. Where I supposedly become more rational and all spontaneity dies. I feel guilt and shame if I find that I am not applying myself hard enough. I feel an almost guilty pleasure when I laugh or when I take a break. I eat away at myself and doubt my abilities. My confidence is shattered and rebuilt everyday and I feel the scar it makes upon my pride with more intensity. I know not how I may heal. I used to know. Or I thought I knew.

Recommended song: "The Logical Song" by Supertramp

Lyrics:

When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful,



a miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical.



And all the birds in the trees, well they'd be singing so



happily,



joyfully, playfully watching me.



But then they send me away to teach me how to be sensible,



logical, responsible, practical.



And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable,



clinical, intellectual, cynical.



There are times when all the world's asleep,



the questions run too deep



for such a simple man.



Won't you please, please tell me what we've learned



I know it sounds absurd



but please tell me who I am.



Now watch what you say or they'll be calling you a radical,



liberal, fanatical, criminal.



Won't you sign up your name, we'd like to feel you're



acceptable, respectable, presentable, a vegetable!



At night, when all the world's asleep,



the questions run so deep



for such a simple man.



Won't you please, please tell me what we've learned



I know it sounds absurd



but please tell me who I am.

No sense of self?

Pointlessness? Have you ever felt that there is no sense of self? That we are all like microbes that merely exist? There often seems to be an utter sense of apathy with the world. There often seems as if nothing is of much importance, in fact, one does not even consider the unimportance of these things but merely passes them by. Events, words and feelings do not penetrate. Everything is insubstantial and the world is a void. The self is a mere entity in this void relying purely on basic survival instincts. The eyes see but they do not look. The ears hear but they do not listen. The body touches but it does not feel.

When this happens nothing seems to really exist but it maintains its presence at the same time. Just the same, the self exists but not in any appreciable manner. It slowly becomes inconsequential and starts to fade. It sinks into the shadows of meaninglessness and might as well be erased from minds and memories. In this way, there is then no self, there is only a being, being there, that is all.

Inspiration?

Today I sat among a herd of sheep. Sheep of all kinds: white, brown and yellow surrounded me in their furry coats and dumb faces. They sat staring, completely oblivious to their surrounding, chewing contineously on their daily feeding of physics, mathematics and electronics.

Beauty often goes unnoticed.