i do not like it,
but i can not say
that it is the worst fate
to have it be destined
that the only songs
that grace the strings
of my timid heart
are sad ones.
2.2.12 (some days)
Some
days
filled with
somedays.
I get
tired
feeling
this way,
but it's
all I've got,
and it's all
I know.
days
filled with
somedays.
I get
tired
feeling
this way,
but it's
all I've got,
and it's all
I know.
2.2.12 (this is an adventure)
When we were young, we had the right idea. Adventurers. That's what we were. That's what we should still be. It doesn't feel right to not be. We lose a part of ourselves the second we forget, and we spend the rest of our days searching for a replacement. We get jobs we don't like, we buy things we don't need, we get credit cards and max them out. But what for? All it takes is another adventure, and it's returned to us, and once you get it back, you'll never lose it again.
1.26.12 (observations in time)
Suddenly I was confounded by public places. One hundred sad faces, accompanied by one hundred happy ones to compliment them, and not a single word to be exchanged. They lived in a distant harmony, unaware that they could enrich each other's lives. How could it be so? The combined social anxieties of everyone in the room gave even the socialites trouble.
This happened often. Sometimes so far to the extent of displacing one's sour mood and past failures unto another. Such sorry times. I too had been guilty of such a crime, but I had found comfort in it. The silence, although unbearable at times, had brought about a certain solace I had not found elsewhere. Like two sides of a sword, we had come to both harm and heal ourselves.
This happened often. Sometimes so far to the extent of displacing one's sour mood and past failures unto another. Such sorry times. I too had been guilty of such a crime, but I had found comfort in it. The silence, although unbearable at times, had brought about a certain solace I had not found elsewhere. Like two sides of a sword, we had come to both harm and heal ourselves.
1.26.12 (mimicry)
I had seen the ways in which other men had dealt with love and those delicate creatures of the opposite sex. I had almost allowed myself to learn their ways. The frequent lover is only searching for a substitute for the love he is denied. In the past I had been denied many times. Some caused by my own doing. But never had someone so temporary enraptured me so... She had become my muse.
1.25.12 (one man pity party)
I can't decide
if it's funny
or sad,
that the only way
I talk to
anyone
is if I call THEM.
There is only one
who calls me,
and it's usually
for a drink.
He knows I will go,
but not WHY.
I wonder how long
must I wait,
until I get
at the very least
a hello.
if it's funny
or sad,
that the only way
I talk to
anyone
is if I call THEM.
There is only one
who calls me,
and it's usually
for a drink.
He knows I will go,
but not WHY.
I wonder how long
must I wait,
until I get
at the very least
a hello.
1.25.12 (trust issues)
must I always
wish
to be proven
wrong?
why does
that saying,
"easier said
than done,"
always seem
to strike
true?
so many warm days
have i spent
inside.
feeding on
the loneliness.
i wish for
a lantern,
a guide to
lead me back.
but they have not come,
and i do not think
i would leave if they did.
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