New Beginnings.

Gold teeth and a curse for this town were all in my mouth. Only, i don't know how they got out, dear. Turn me back into the pet that i was when we met. I was happier then with no mind-set. And if you'd 'a took to me like A gull takes to the wind. Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree And i'd a danced like the king of the eyesores And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well. New slang when you notice the stripes, the dirt in your fries. Hope it's right when you die, old and bony. Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall, Never should have called But my head's to the wall and I'm lonely. And if you'd 'a took to me like A gull takes to the wind. Well, I'd 'a jumped from my tree And I'd a danced like the kind of the eyesores And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well. God speed all the bakers at dawn may they all cut their thumbs, And bleed into their buns 'till they melt away. I'm looking in on the good life i might be doomed never to find. Without a trust or flaming fields am i too dumb to refine? And if you'd 'a took to me like Well i'd a danced like the queen of the eyesores And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.

Few Things.

I'm waiting for the few things promised,
when you tied ribbons to the wounds
where my vision was cut from sky
and laced through your vignette.
The tallow vessel of antiquity
waits for these few things.
Kept in silent reverie
you've bleed away my dreams.
The child quietly sits
closing up the veins.
Waiting for the few things promised.

Hiatus.

The impact of change can be stunning. Literally. There's been a strange aura transcending that has me entirely turned inside out and pretty raw. Idleness and complacency have confounded my existence and somehow as I reached out I was able to grab onto something...real. I've been searching high and low and sifting through the sediment for a purpose. Perhaps the mulling around and grappling with my "inner self" was a bunch of egotistical self-satisfaction. Maybe my perpetual state of confusion was something I contrived in order to satiate my fear of the truth. What is that truth? That there is no purpose in purpose. Thought and action are so interwined, though so few use them in that order, that to disassociate yourself completely and go with your instinct isn't so bad sometimes. So I've been taking a hiatus from myself. Going with my gut and allowing opportunity to present itself. Strangely, life has always been that way for me. Things will just change so suddenly and it won't be difficult but instead a mere sloughing off of something no longer needed. Maybe it's evolution, maybe it's neurosis. It doesn't matter. I've missed my blog and I'm happy to write down something <3

"that's what happens in free societies"

we are living in a farce.

Control.

I am a control freak. I won't even say I'm idiosyncratic because really, everyone has their own way of doing things...but I think sometimes I can go a little overboard with positioning random trinkets, the way the mop should lean in the closet or where the chair should be in order to perfectly stage my wonderland. I've decided the control is a comfort of discernible value that makes the people in my life play tug-of-war with my obsessive nature. I get most, if not all, of my neurosis from my progenitors. I'm still in the process of self-therapy where I drown out the drumming of opinions to find my center and my own voice - it's often misinterpreted by the masses. I am my own worst enemy and hold myself to standards of impossible grandeur and suffer the failure of these travesties almost masochistically. I'm probably too self-involved due to lack of inspiration. I'm continually looking for something which I'm mistaking for my deeper self when really it's just pulling at my own loose thread. I think too much.

Rhetorical Narcissism.

We are beings continually haunted by the miscommunication of our hearts and our head. Neurological synapses manage to completely divorce reason and emotion to yield a complete metaphysical disaster of personal dilemma and hesitation. Our priorities become echos and we are forced into a role of maturity that doesn't quite fit as well as we had hoped. These customizing years of ourselves often end in agonizing realizations centered around regret or sheer denial. Depending how far along you are on the path to your perfect-fitting self, the balancing act between these two extremes can make you nauseous. To be perfectly honest I'm at an awkward point in my life. A place that has nothing to do with pubescent abnormality or a dire need for anything intrinsically artificial, but instead I seek an outlet that I'm not sure exists. Perhaps as the mind grows into it's own ego and deciphers the cryptic messages of our subconscious that a part remains untranslated and thus, unattainable. It could be the very explanation as to why our total brain function is enveloped in mystery. It could even be the reason for great and shit art alike and be the carrot to the turtles we've become - slowly walking focused on this insatiable void that seeks fulfillment as time flies by. However, should we even have time to ponder the inconsequential or occupy ourselves with production? Is seeking ever inconsequential even if what is sought has no definite form...and what if the end in no way justifies the means? Of course life is a series of risks...calculated risks if you're the type to always make plans, and furthermore it has no definitive expectation. Life is, afterall, what you make it and whatever standards you hold yourself to are simply articles of choice. My point is that introspection does feel narcissistic in a world decorated by the individualistic mentality and is utterly expected. But expected, perhaps, for all the wrong reasons due to misguidance and indulgence. I feel that somewhere, the outlet that I'm pining over isn't an imaginary rabbit hole to throw my sweet nothings into, but something real. Maybe what I lack in understanding, I can make up for in inquiry.

The Things I Need To Remember But Always Forget

I exist mostly in an aloof state. I idealize memories and juxtapose them into my current reality. The result is mostly confusion, contemplation and perhaps-ability. Sometimes I just need to snap out of it, get my shit straight and stop waiting for whatever the hell I'm waiting for. Apparently this is all written in the biblical code of my astrology. More likely is that I'm a habitual escape artist freed by fleeting moments of nostalgia. I miss people a whole lot but I'm a hermit. I have indescribable bouts of rage that I have not fully come to terms with. I'm crazy, unfair and sometimes deluded. These are my confessions.