Deceleration

Shades of Seasons will be published.

It has to be published.

I will publish it myself and sell it if I have to.

I'm hanging on a thin thread and gasping for air while trying to not loose the last visages of sanity that is remaining.

Every last prattled word will have meaning that you never it could have.

There will be no end to this and every turn you perceive as a disappointed failure will be yet another victory I will turn around to destroy you with.

There is no end in sight because every line is sightless, every thought pattern is interconnected to the overwhelming presence of absolute truth and you will not, I repeat, will not and never bring me down and destroy that which was preordained.

I may simply be the clay vessel that will be broken and sprinkled out across this world but the word will live on, the message will live on despite your interference since the garden.

Do what you will with your forked tongue and bite deep on my veins and spread thy venom as you will. I welcome you closer so that I might shove the dagger of absolution of all sin deeper into your spine.

His will be done and may you suffer in your eternal night of despondent regret.

Half Eaten Chocolate BeLoved Mixed With Bitter Sweet Love Stationed Right Next to Visceral Visual Pornography

The notes and chords strike down right now, soaring melodies fluent in every language but the one I can use right now.

Words simply defy gravity as I beg to steal some sense of mind, of peace about everything.

You know that idea that everything will be okay.

That despite growing trepidation everything will be okay.

It seems like religion is good for one thing and that one thing is that if you embrace it you are readying yourself for impact. You are trying to see reality head on and then let yourself just crash full on unto the ground.

Shattering like a bottle of aged wine, letting the purplish aged flavor splash across the sand, making awkward lines from the shards of glass as the ground drinks up every last sin.

It is this funny sense of vertigo, loosing sense of who you are and just why the hell you are even there in the first place; letting your hair down and kicking your shoes off just long enough to realize you are out of mind, out of place and the fact you were in the wrong neighborhood to begin with.

It's a trip, trip in your mind and through it.
Realizing the water is shallower that it looks
that looks are everything and you are what I mistook
when I took a look to look outside
and try and find beauty.
Instead I found a shallow pond
and not my ocean.
My soul used to ache for you
and now it is simply repulsed.
I would make outlines of my sins in blood
just to see you smile.
Now I want it back.
My time, my smiles, my heart and my blood.
Every wasted breath, every broken promise
and every half truth that gave birth to a lie.

I'm not asking for much,
really,
just a little bit of everything
and not much else.
Just a bit of sanctity
in a world of indulgence.
A little bit of purity
when every thought
is burning lust through that last.
A little bit of this
and a little bit of that
all that is good
and a little bit worst.
Just a tiny bit of pain.
Little bit burning
and a whole lot worse.

I can't give you anything more than this half formed lies that I pretend to believe. Your pictures are beauty that makes me cry, your skin is perfect just like the lies you wear on your shoulders like that lace you hold onto so dear.

I want to say I understand life but the more I see, the more I feel, the more I experince it all leaves me more unraveled than the last. It's like that pale lace dress, just starting to unravel; unlacing the lace really in a sad sort of way.

Some sort of way that makes me as nauseated as only real life can.

Humans cannot bear too much reality, much like T.S. Elliot said and I myself have endured more of its bitter sting than I can scarcely comprehend.

I feel the building tension in my throat as I brace to scream.

I've grown so sick of this world and this retched revolving vile procession. I feel the bible build and I want to vomit out all this pain, this growing resentment I feel. The shame of me being jealous of this trash you love to call your God, this jade statue that can't even hear your useless pining.

Hearing every useless scream that is never said as it rings in my ears, this useless bitter and trite conversation I have with myself every single night.

Why do i run circles in these squares?

Isn't it about I anyway?

As the music continues to hum with static hisses and popping screams across my electrical synapses causing my soul to relate in ways I don't even understand, maybe even while I still have your attention at this very moment I can remmeber just how slutty my own spiritual walk is while I am growing so fond of pointing fingers and throwing jagged stones.

I love seeing the blood of the guilty spilled so I think mine would be a good addition, right?

I mean, every time I see a good idea I love to be enamored with it, fawn over it and try to supplant the desires you placed in my heart at the beginning of this long night of dark pain.

I try in vain, I try so damn hard to forget you. I lay naked on this mixture of gravel and pavement and I just pull myself forward and let the jagged edges just rip into every last part of my body, letting blood just spill over onto the ground and fill in the cracks making such a pretty pretty petty pattern on the ground for you to see.

My religion, my spiritual endeavors of selfish self indulgent self assured fiction that I love to paint all over myself.



The hours bleed by into moments separated by segments of serrated edges.
Exasperatingly enough time stand stills every time I stare at the clock, not even the second hand is nice enough to click aaway for me.

But the moment I slow down long enough to realize things are not about me the time rips through me in ways I can't even pretend to understand and you know, oh God you know the pain it rips forward out of the soul and paints all over the walls and the floor and the ceiling. All of this bitter pain of ideas lost, lusted over and bought again and again for a petty little price you couldn't have sold me on if you tried, just because I wanted it for free.

Yeah, On and On About Nothing Particular

Curiously enough, looking back over the past couple of years with my writing habits I think I'm approaching the end of what I like to think of as my "post nanowrimo burn out" but it's not just being burned out with writing...it's with life and
living here.

I started this blog a couple of months after returning home from college and I didn't necessarily mean for it to chronicle my flirtations with insanity but in ways it has...it's like reading the journal of some sort of mad man...or really just a confused kid dealing with depression.

That's all I feel like.

This kid.

This kid with dirt on his face and untie shoelaces, lost and looking for his mother. Or maybe just his father.

I don't know.

I really don't know very well.

It may be me coming off of the pain medication from yesterday or just the nightly meds for my stomach but I just feel so...outside of myself. Beside myself and beyond myself.

It's this weird feeling I get. These weird convulsed thoughts that just seem to pulsate as they rattle through my often hazy labyrinth of a mind.
Maybe I'll just get used to the meds or maybe I'll change with them.

Or something.

I'm not making much sense in my heard much less out on here.

Current headlines?

I'm updating my viral protection for my pc and laptop.

Yes.

Exciting I know.

Almost as exciting as the presidential election was, except this will actually effect me if I get a virus on my pc and laptop.

I'm also having more trouble than usual as far as spelling is concerned. Boy am I grateful for the spell check function on Mozilla but this is just sad. I couldn't even spell concerned correctly just a minute ago.

There it goes again.

Maybe the medicine is just making me slower, just making me feel higher and less human. It sure does make all of life have this impossible dream like surrealism where I am not even sure if I am awake or dreaming.

More than boredom interlaced with tedium and insanity it is just this mediocre false sense of security that I do not even pretend to understand.

I don't feel alive or real, it is almost like life has been reduced to this two dimensional card board paste black and white clock in and clock out being jerked around by the neck surrealistic reality television show lie.

I need air.

I need to breath.

I've forgotten the taste of sweet oxygen while being trapped in this shell, this lie I fell in love with and openly embraced so I wouldn't have to bother thinking of what being free really meant.

If this really is the first day of the rest of my life then I don't even know if it is really worth living.

Is it really worth enduring this mad and senseless scramble for pleasure when the only reward is a cheap high followed by having the world crash down on my shoulders?

I've got nothing to offer this moment, nothing to offer but mere criticism about the tedium and pain.

Seeing people pass like puppets in front of a spotlight, chanting terribly worded mantras about pop culture and cash for less.

I do not want to face the world, I never meant to throw myself out into things like I have, all I want to do is try and crawl back into bed and pray for a quick death, you know cheap freedom from my mind and physical ailments that serve to only remind me how cheap life is.

Introspective looks only serve to remind me I'm a shadow of an image that looks in a mirror terrified of being and more important, please remmeber this, terrified of even feeling a thing.

Feeling creating being, if not, it just at least points out that you do indeed exsist and have a great responsibility tasked upon you. That responsibility of life, living life with all of its shame and beauty.

It is looking to find purpose in a vast article of rambling nothingness, I'm rather sure it is there and I believe rather strongly in purpose...but God it hates, God does it hurt so much to be born and then be reborn in this pain. Being a living shadow seeking redemption and hoping for the remarkable to save me just before my final pained breath of air.

*sigh*

NEW U2 SINGLE!!

Get on Your Boots (Sexy Boots)

Health Update 3.0

I really hate writing notes like these because of how annoying it is to realize my finite limitations and the fact I need other people.

To make what would be an other wise unbearably long story short, I'll assume anyone reading knows what has been going on, and as most of you that keep up with my writings know I have been having health problems related to my stomach for the past year or so.

Last week I went to see the gastrointestinal doctor at Shelby and later that week I went to UAB and got a second opinion from another specialist. A lot of blood was drawn and the decision for me to have surgery again was made. Tuesday (the 20th) they are going to be repeating the ERCP procedure again and will be attempting to take a closer look at my pancreas in order to see if there has been further missed gallstones or some other problem with the organ.

The greatest risk involved in this procedure is that the pancreas is a very sensitive organ and them being so close (much less attempting to go inside) could cause a multitude of various health problems. The odds are something like 5% that something could go really wrong...but as anyone with access to my GPA scores can tell you, math has never been my strong point and it has been a cause for me to worry a bit right now.

Depending how this procedure goes, as well as the multitude of blood tests I have had, there is a strong chance that I'll have a second surgery where they will open me back up where I had my gall bladder surgery and essentially do exploratory surgery to attempt to find what the cause for all my pain and nausea may be.

So hopefully things will work out for the best regardless. Sure I am worried and stressed a bit but that's life. I'm just bringing all of this out in a note because:

1.If one of you were in pain or sick and in such circumstances I would want to know.

and

2.If I didn't update all of you I know some of you would hunt me down and bludgeon me with a stick for not letting you know what is going on. I'm sure the irony of beating a sick person would not be lost on any of us but because of my high allergic reaction to pain I would rather stick to the less complicated path and just offend as few people as possible.

So any prayers, warm thoughts, kind notes, free food, books and large piles of gold are not only welcomed but are strongly encouraged. I may not be a tax deductible charity but do know that your time and food will be well spent.

-Matt

P.S. As soon as I am in some state of mind to post and let everyone know what has happened I will. Thanks for caring and being such wonderful people. =)

It may be true that this moment does encompass all moments, all of time...but if so...it just serves to remind me how empty and pain filled it all is.

I have trouble with formulating words that make sense...words to make sense of the pain I feel and that I am in. Questions are asked and answers to define and give meaning to me is demanded...I just shrug and smile sadly because as far as I can tell none exist and none ever will.

Part of me wants to scream and fight against the dark...but so, so very much of me just longs to be overcome by the darkness. Swallowed whole and alive, just so I can fade away and be left alone. Left to just die and become nothing. I'm so tired, so overwhelmed with sorrow and not just by my pain but by all of the pain around me and in every single person who has the misfortune to enter this life.

I can at least pray the pain is brought to a sudden and swift end at some point.

Maybe.

Showbread lyrics

I’m going to sleep
The day is long, the night never ends
I’m going to sleep
There are birds and insects calling to me
Hidden in the ribs of the dark
I’m going to find a home
Some place I can rest
And wrap a cold rag around the meat inside my chest

Come and find me my love
If its not too late, you’ll know where to look
I leave no tracks, no scent and no trace
If its not too late, you’ll know where to look

Please forget the things I said and I wrote
Forget them and throw them away
Forget the things that I wrecked and I broke
Forget me and throw me away

The dark to me is a comfort
It offers blindness to me
There are so many horrible things in the light
They hurt for me to see.

If you find me, carry me home
Don’t wake me or whisper my name
Lock me in the warmth of your arms
And walk me away from my shame
-Showbread, "The Death (Nervosa)"

Wordless

And yet it burns.
Unsuasionably.
Undefineably.
Meaninglessly.
Purposelessly.
It all just floats here.
In burning drab colors
that simply do no justice to the pain.
Oh Jesus, why?

In Dreams Only Dreamed

Jesus Christ
just this let this break,
let this heart shatter,
let the pain be real
and this this break.

Make me new
like only you can.
Take this blood
and renew.

Like only you can,
like only you can.

No waxing metaphor
can compare
or illustrate
this love.

So please let me break,
please break this heart
so full of shame,
just let me shatter
so we can be one.
End this charade
and unite
this endless divide
so we can be one.

And simply let me break
so we can be together,
oh my love
only in ways imagined
let us be one,
endless in love
and
endless in hope,
forgotten dreams realized
in ways only You know,
let your hope burn
and renew.

But first,
please let me break.
Let this break and end.
Bring about the revolt,
bring about my end.
Just this end
and let it break.
End this hollow words
at your command
and beckon me forward
in shades of life
absent of gray.

Oh please let me break,
let me be new.
Let me fly to you.
Just make me break
and be yours
and you be mine
in ways we only dreamed.
So let this break
so we may be one.

Waltzing Out of Time

There is no release
and relief
from this famine of the mind.

There is no release
and relief
from this prison of your time.

Like some scorched earth
my mouth is dry,
cracked, crusted
and bleeding dry.
Feeling my crevices with
long sought after fluid
but never what I had in mind.

Just this coughing dry wheeze
of dust covered lungs,
chocking on self centered ego
and many lost mistakes.
It's never you
oh dear me
it's simply me.

I couldn't let you take the fall
and now,
now it is me you hate.
It is me you point the finger at,
whilest you strut like some
forgotten tart,
outside of time and her mind.
Not realizing her cracked beauty
and faded lips.
No longer with red
but a faded shade of gray.

Do you remmeber my first mistake?
Wanting your hand near mine.
The first on the list of many,
the last mistake my heart can take
and the last you will ever see of me.
I left your mind the second
I ceased to be your simple
little toy,
simply said
I was nothing to be and nothing to do.
Nothing to see and feel
but still
I can thank self deluded egomania
for this last dance.

The sad thing is you can't read this
because you never knew what you did.
The only crime committed was my heart
for attaching your soul to mine.
The only crime you did was breath
and live near this part of town.
The mistake was mine to live
and be
and breath
and exist in.
Every step forward is another mile back,
every single breath is another break,
every single being is this
and that
and those
and wishes unfulfilled.

If they didn't think me crazy
they sure do now.

This last dance
sure drove me out of my mind,
no matter the day or date
Monday or Tuesday
it was another one of those days,
you know the sort.
I wouldn't mind a little indulgence
or another burst of hope
ringing through my chest
wrenching my heart oh so tight.
Just another slow dance,
another serenade of the soul,
another movement in time
with breath in sync.
I can't lie to save my breath
except to me about you.
The only fool is in the mirror
for believing me about you,
not that you said anything about me
to you
or in exception to us.
Not much to see here really
just another self delude
dance out of time,
out of space
and most certainly,
as seemingly always,
out of mind.

Plastic Pictures Stay

I hate your pictures.
They bring back too many memories.
But I see them everywhere.
On the walls
on buses
on the sides of buildings
plastered about
in such a way
that a self centered
egocentric
attention whore
like yourself
would enjoy.

It's like this burning thorn
just placed in my mind
something you would enjoy
with your self satisfied ego.
Knowing that years later you,
yeah you,
can cause me so much pain.

I didn't ask for this
when I said I loved you
I just asked for truth.
I never asked for this
when I asked for your hand
just for truth.

But truth it seems
comes at too high a price,
fictitious as you may be
you are all I could ever see
and too high a price
to simply let me be.

Plastic Image Bands

There is no use
for the thoughts
your curves
and
smile
bring to mind.

There is no use
for the burning sins
my mind grasps for
after the grave.

Rain drops are falling
and fallen
and fall
just in your way.
Blocking the sight,
convoluted in fright
and block out the day.

Broad stretches of gray
and insightful
lies tonight.
Meaning what they say
and never saying what they mean
as they stack and curve
and bend in plastic tubes
and metal humming sights.

Mechanical beings
and frightful sights
and trusting lies
all saying what they mean
and never say they say.

All convoluted in sight,
convulsing in drunken rage
at the sight of self
and fright at the images
reflected by the self of self
in the self.

Streaming Thoughts And A Little Misplaced Hate

I can't tell what I'm feeling today,
I can't tell what's right.
I don't know what I'm feeling today
and I don't know if it's right.

Half the time I love you
and half the time I hate,
half the time I like you
and half the time it's hate.
It's every other moment of life you see
that makes it so hard.
Because half the time I'm loving you
and half the time it's hate.

I hear that life is going okay
or maybe it's just great.
I keep hearing that life is okay
and I wonder what is wrong with a little hate.
When you shape things in life
after yourself
you get a little half baked
You get full of self fulfilled intent.
But wasn't that the reason?

It's almost as if your beauty brings me tears
as much as it brought me agitated hate,
just over the left ice on the floor.
Not to mention all of the fear
that was brought by trying to trust
something so sublime
as pure unadulterated hate.

It's not that my passion is fading,
it's not like the night is late,
it's not like my passion is fading
because it's all you I hate.

And the clock spins another time
as we dance this last number
all across this space
not able to stop for a dime
or for you that matter.

Just because you get tired of the ride
doesn't mean it can stop at your leisure.
Just because you get tired of the company
doesn't mean it's easy to get off the ship.
The journey has just started doll
so despite the screams
over the explosive din,
I do hope it's a pleasant one.

Because,
as I hope you do know,
half the time I love you
and half the time I hate,
half the time I like you
and half the time I hate.
It's every other moment of life you see
that makes it so hard.
Half the time I'm loving you
and half the time it's hate.

Half of the time it's hate,
maybe sometimes it's lust
and other times fear
or maybe just maxim feelings of must
intermingled with beer.
Confixed angels
with broken wings,
trusted angles
with broken rules
trusted lies with fixed rulers.
It all runs on and on,
broken syntax intermingled with this
and that
and misplaced irony for two.

Darkened Nights With Lights

It is much easier to write to say I hate you
than it is to speak of love.
It is easier to burn these bridges
and laugh at your pain
than it is to listen.

I would rather waste this breath on ego
than take a stab to my pride.
There is more satisfaction
in bleeding from my self inflicted wounds
of self preservation
than there is in humility.
More self satisfied ego in sadism
than bothering to offer you my hand.

I would rather see you wither in pain,
see you loose sense of life,
see you burn in this Hell
the endless limbo of your mind,
than to bother to forgive and love you
like I do the narcissistic beast
that dwells in this guise of a creature,
this lamb with horns
that love the sight of drawn blood.

I miss things the way they were.
Before I gave in
and just used the "I" word so much.
Almost like when I had some sort of integrity.
Before things became so damnable
in the mindless repetition.
Mantras of self inflicted gun shot wounds
that hope to one day grow into the holy
disguise of guile and cunning,
the marks of clergy and the holy.

Little giggles of growing madness.
Vision of blood and terror
at just the corner of your eyes.
The mounting fear of plagues, diseases
and nuclear winter.
Delights of the serpent's eyes.
The eye candy apple of his reptilian eyes.
The blessed seduction,
burning at the center,
that gives us a leg out
at any possible moment
that we want to cave in
and bow out
to curve in
and simply indulge in the appetite.
After all,
didn't he say to eat of any tree?
Indulge in any and every fruit?
Eating and sucking apart ever greedy bite?
Didn't he say indulge every impulse?
To grapple with nothing
but with how to forge the quickest path,
from here unto thee?

Didn't you hear the child's cry of pain in the night?
The lonely place,
the home of animals
with the stench of decay?
Were there not cries of loneliness and despair
that we never recognized?
Were there not rapid responses of angels at the sight?
Would you know the honest truth of regret looking,
seeking to break past this false barrier you think is real?
Whatever happened to your thoughts
and regards of truth?

Madness posing as truth,
truth seeking to be found as is
in the midst of contradiction
and mad paradoxes that will never be heard.
But the greatest hope
is that there is preservation of the soul
and the blessed hope of home,
of love
and that you will see,
you will see soon.
See beyond the shades,
be broken so you may grow
and grow that you might live
and live with such abundance
that the additives of plastic hate
will melt
and wither
and nothing will remain except the truth.
The tears will be wiped away
and nothing you ever sought will be needed.
Every last breath of pain will find solace
in the absolute perfected beauty
that comes from eternity mixed with love.
And love that conquers every
last allurement of the hate
of the heart that bled for pain
and sought to bleed on life.
All will be new.
All renewed in life,
in light
and in love.
As it will be,
shall be
and can only be in the shades of light
that burn from here until the last
shreds of eternity.

Traversing Your Face

I can't believe it was you,
yeah you I tried to hate.
When after all it was me to blame.
I screamed foul
and adultery
without taking the time to realize where I stood.
My cheerful smirk as the bullet flew
and the corpses piled up
and the stench rose to heaven and beyond.
Maybe I just forgot what it means to be human
or perhaps the simple
and straight forward answer is that
it is all just clever lines.
With a bit of make up and smoke for effect
but overall the overall is a plastic fix.
This little junked habits eating up the time
to help cope with the overwhelming
sense of irony of despair.
It is almost funny to admit my own hypocrisy
because
after all,
if I don't laugh who will?
There may be tears
but after all they are but an awkward byproduct of truth
that no one will worry about.
For now at least.
People only like to see you fall
and can't stand to see the fallen repent.
Makes for poor gossip
and only help when the false sincerity
just faces adorned with their naked smiles.

Buying Regards

I breath and it's your emptiness,
I breath and it's my emptiness
I see
I feel
I seek to just conceal.
It's empty too.

God I'm just sick of these words.
Every last false breath within
and every lie that stifles my breath.
Every sin I gorge,
Every snarky grin
and the small sounds of death
that are these lies.

It is all exausting,
wearisome beyond belief.
Lies told to stifle yawns
and yawns brought to silence talk
and talk bought to sell.
It just runs in circles and squares
and other odd shapes.

No perfect order just dissonance
disgused as chaotic good,
just silence bought as discount price
like a pair of cheap sneakers.
Overblown by a logo
and sought like a cheap ego.

Yeah talk is cheap
but so are you
and me too.

Night Light, Light Lie

The uncertainty of it all
can be distilled down to the simple facts:
Knowing is believing,
believing may be seeing
but seeing is no more an absolute
than the lies in your eyes.

It's nothing that is an absolute,
nothing but a reminder
of the fact
that you can't see beyond your mirror
and the internal narcissism
you love to love loving that still reflects.
It's all shiny,
like your rings,
you wear while ringing up the past.

Like a trite metaphor
involving a tart
you just simply rot here.
Rhyme out of sync
and revolve around your self
in synchronized orbit.
Twisting into shape
like you, just like you.

Another morning and another day.
Oh well.
What will we do today?
I know the regime of a job that could be better
and pain of a body that should heal
but what about You and me?
Where will we stand?
Where will we go?
What will we do?

I'm so tired.
I hate my shame.
I want to fall at your feet and cry.
And maybe be free.
God I need you.
My being thirsts for real life
and to be freed from all that is trite.
I hate how all of these words feel hollow
and empty,
less than nothing and without meaning.
I miss the days of sun and light
because now I hide.
I hide from the horrors of the light
because of how it burns
and makes life light.
Being hollow burns too.
It's just life, you know?

God is in the Rain

God is in the rain,
Jesus is too.
He's in the rain drops that fall
on the sinners and the saints,
the rapists and perverts too.

He is in the water that forms and falls
giving life to all,
even the crack addicts and prostitutes too.
He falls to redeem us all,
luckily the religious philanthropists are included.

I just want to go home.
Please.
Enough is enough.
How much more abuse will you make me take?
I'm on the threshold of a nightmare and it looks to swallow me.
I'm afraid.
I just want to go home, where it is warm and safe.
Warm and safe in Your arms forevermore.
Without these tears, this pain and all of the fear.
Where the sun burns forever and every tear is wiped away.
Please carry me there, I'm too weak to walk.
My faith has fallen on broken legs. the blood is thick.
Please do not forget me here.
Please.

Words, no words. God no words. I am sighing and no words.

Dark Shapes in Light

I'm drunk off the pain burning with me
and high off the pills they gave me.
I just wish I could afford something
to numb me inside
long enough to kill what makes it beat.

I tried screaming to no effect.
It is like living inside a moving picture,
seeing the people move about
not hearing a single word
while creating this caricature
of my own design.
It wasn't like this was a design
or a real desire
but it took place and it did.

A bit like an infection really,
this burning cancer in my lungs.
Eating me from the inside to the out,
showing as much love as dark grace.

It is too much to ask for random death to be free,
it is too much to hope for an early release from pain.
Words can not describe the confusion
or the brewing madness just a few feet away.
Just how enraged I am,
how unable I am to form words
or make myself heard
or be heard
or be seen
be seen for me
to be known for me
and whatever it is
I am
I am
I am
I am

I heard my voice echo in my head
I want to vomit,
to retch up this selfishness.
This disgusting league of pain,
this defecation of my soul
and this exposure of hypocrisy.
This running out of room to hide
and just pretend I am fine.

I am.
I am?

I dare utter such words of vile disgust.
Holy words profane by my lips,
my tongue,
my mind,
this disgusting reservoir of brackish water,
a haven of bacterial hate,
dirt and putrid smells.

I am this.
I am real.
I am pain.
I am sin.
I am me.
Self realized and nothing to show for it,
except this stupid shirt
and fake words to hide behind.
Ordered and ordained by people.

I am so sick.
I am in so much pain.
Every breath is a ragged attempt at life
and no one sees it.
Even those reading this phrase will not realize,
not understand,
nor comprehend what is truly meant by it.
The lasting implications I feel
for the night ends
and the day begins
but you cannot understand me.
Every layer reveal is just another distraction
another decoy
another pain
another way
another exposure of myself as who I am.
Enough for you to see I am not who I am.

It's exhausting to think like this because
it matters to me to have others care
and to display myself as this sight,
this vision for others to see
and partake in
and view.
This pain they can enjoy
and drink up
and devour.
Just so I will not be alone in this drunken stupor.

I hate all of this almost as much as I hate you,
I hate me
and this world.
It never made sense in here
and I doubt it will make sense in there.
Just, rhetorical
rhetoric
and feelings of lies.

I can't even lie to myself long enough to lie.
It's all stark hypocrisy.
Pain I can't swallow anymore.
Pills that aren't effective anymore.
All lies.
All pretend
all of this fake game.

I feel it eating and gaining.
Pain upon pain.
I feel it growing and groping.
I feel it inside and out.
It begins and ends.
It is and will ever be.

Good night
good bye.
Quitting could never be so sweet.

You know, it's rather hard to focus on doing any one particular thing when you have Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds going off left and right in your head thanks to the meds you are on.

I wish I didn't have to leave.

Time simply won't stand still, will it?

I'm an eternal pessimist yearning to be born again as an eternal optimist...in the off hand chance that should happen I'm eternally grateful crucifixion is no longer the execution of choice for overly enthused religious people.

CG Resident Evil Film?

The nicest thing I can say about the live action Resident Evil films is that they are full of suck. They are terrible, some of the worst movies to ever grace this planet.

But...THIS actually has my attention.





It actually takes place within the same universe as the games, continues the plot and doesn't seem like it will suck. Plus the music they use in the trailer is from Resident Evil 2...ah nostalgia.

My geeky senses are tingling...

The latest news in...is pain.
That is all.
Dark cold shallow breaths of burning air.
Nauseated moments of falling sickness.
That is what it is right now.

Jesus Christ this pain is too real.

There are not swears strong enough in any language to convey how upset, how tired, how angry, how frustrated and just in general enraged at life I am.

False expectations...maybe self inflated hopes...there is definetly some room for self pity and loathing...oh God the loathing...

So much...so little...God I hate this.
All at once.
What was the point in the first place?
I can't enjoy the moment because of how much I hate.
Ignorance is a blessing because you can at least enjoy the moment you have.
Compared to not sleeping, being sick and hating life because of how broken, bitter and over all shallow you are as a human being.

Yeah good, encouraging happy feelings here!

In Words of Home

Words lack their due in that I'm going crazy.
If not exactly already there.
I want to go Home.
It can be a problem to breath,
to take step a forward
and not look back.
But oh I so wish to go Home.
So that I may breath my last
and be freed of this broken shell.
To know what freedom is truly like
an emancipation to never long again.

I wish I was smart enough
to stop long enough
to remmeber to not wear my heart
just on my sleeve,
where it collects dirt and scrapes.
Bleeding wounds
I never know how to staunch.
All I have left is this infection,
this disease inside my heart
screaming at my every thought
demanding control.
So, so all I want,
the first and last thought in my mind,
in this burning cold
is to go Home.

The lack of love
which is replaced with fury,
the lack of love
which has become this mass treason,
a degrading of all of my reason
into this trite existence.
Buffers into life and light
and barely being able to see in illuminated dark.
This poison is suffocating,
the smoke is chocking
and I hate this all.
My rage tapers off
into this passionless self hating loathing.
But, may it ever be in this last breath,
I long for Home.


** ** **

Painted images
posing as metaphors
upon this table.
I'm not sure I believe you
in what you say and do.

Yeah yeah yeah...Merry Christmas or something like that...

Shades of Seasons

The shades of all the seasons burn in your eyes,
pools of reflection on your face,
carved like a relief on this mountain.

Aching Truth

I want to scream until my lungs explode.
Let the air bags in my chest explode
and just bring me back to life
with the soul shaking force of pain.
Just wake me up with a scream.

I'm running blind,
living it
because of how dead I am.

It isn't just here and now
it has always been.
Every moment awake
just lost in you and just whatever drug you take.


I hate how weak I am. I just feel dirty because I don't have any sense of control. I just feed my lusts and indulge in whatever I want.

I feel so alone and scared right now because I feel like you should hate me and you always will. There is truth but it is so unknowable right now that I would like to simply die.

Everything is coming undone,just spinning out of sync.

I'm crying but there is no one to wipe the tears away. Every last burning desire is going to lead to this burning mass of fetid death.
If there was justice I never would have been born and if there was justice I would have been still born and never would have been forced to live out these days. These wearisome and troubled days.

Please do not forget me Jesus.
As I lay here gasping for breath.
Please remember me.
When I draw this final breath please be here to hold m hand,
hold me.
I know I am going to forget what it means to die,
I'm going to be lost in pain and regret.
I'm going to be human.
So please do not leave me alone in that hour.
That moment when the air leaves my lungs
and all that I know is the fear of no more.
Would you hold me close?
Hold me tightly and be my love?

I am so tired.
I have nowhere else to crawl to.
PLease do not forget me while you can.

Brewing Darkness

It's so good to know...
It's so nice to know...
Everything can be so perfected
in your syncopated
little mad world.


Every last piece of my soul wasted
dragged across this broken glass,
that are your nails,
every drop of blood
swallowed by these little pores
is something else
I would miss if I could feel.

I don't have the strength to vomit
but God I wish I could.
Wretch out every last emotion
every last piece of me
and just show
you how fucking
complicated I am.
I'll never be something you dissect,
some neat little project worth seeing.

I am.
That is it.
I am.
All I'm going to be.
This perfect mess.
This failure of complicated ends.
The beginning of nothing
but this final end.

Screams syncopate
into madness.
Blood collects where I have crawled.
This breath burns my lungs
because it's not longer air
it is just masked pretension
that is nothing more than the best interests
of better intentions
wrapped in whatever it is you use to sleep at night.

Every second we spend in this wasteland makes us worse.
We bite into each other,
rip out soul out...all for what?
To be a game for specters that we can never see.
But you don't see.
You do not see them egg you on,
see their delight at the blood letting orgy.
You don't see their yellow eyes gleam
in dying twilight as they set their eyes
on ripping our your throat
just as soon as you have finished feeding on me.

So what is it?
What is this?
We are just going to eat and dine on the others flesh.
Drink the blood with the wine?
Eat the flesh with the bread?
This juxtaposition of a poorly raised metaphor
that never should have seen life.
Because the dark is eating the light.
Every last momentous pain.
These demons smile.
Because they see what you can't see.
They rejoice in the pain.


But God,
if my soul was any darker
you would be cut by its shade.
You would feel the hate brewing inside
and would die from the heat.
But instead,
I'm judged for me being me.
I never said I was anything less
But here I am just being me.
And that is a crime, even if you don't think it.
Or say it.
Me being me was never enough.
It cannot be enough.
With insufficiency.

But God I try,
oh will I try.

Why am I here?

It would be so much more simplified...to me at least...if I was more than what I am...more than this loose collection of cells with a soul...I'm so tired...so fundamentally alone...

So tired...so depressed...so...unable to take all of this for much longer...

If life bothered to make sense theologians, philosophers and politicians would be out of jobs.

Opps I did not mean to actually post this letter...I was just writing it in here before copying and pasting...bah. Oh well. Archive purposes perhaps?

***

If I remember correctly you asked me yesterday what the Protestant view of sin was and God's response to sin.

I hope I don't sound too much like a jerk when I say this but some of the main problems I have with the Roman Catholic church is that they just took the (somewhat) established Christian theology and Bible canon around 300ish AD and ran wild with it for the next thousand years or so. Instead of just sticking with what had been previously established they just sort of started adding stuff left and right...incorporating pagan holidays to 'attract' people to Christianity and other stuff...

I mean I don't hate Catholics, I know some very nice ones. I'm just more along the lines disappointed that some very weird (and at times insane) decisions were made on a whim and the focus became the church instead of God.

And then you had the Protestant reformation that happened in the 1500's...which started out with good intentions and became a bloody mess with people loosing sight and getting caught up on human differences and thinking that killing each other would somehow make God happen.

This is all insane to me. In so many cases Jesus gets used sort of like a sports mascot and touted around and treated as if he actually gave/gives a damn about all these PETTY reasons and as if he would encourage actual war and fighting. Anyone who spends enough time in the teachings of Christ realize hoe radical he was and that he was more interested in 'sinners' and helping the downtrodden find their way back.

I'm jumping back and forth all over the place to give some sort of background of my thoughts and to hopefully help me sound less like a person in need of a nice white jacket and more along the lines of a...well certainly not normal person. =)

One of the more common beliefs with Protestantism is that God holds all the sin committed by people the same and to an extent I think that is true. But misses the point completely.

People get hung up on sin.

It's easy , it's flashy and makes for good loud arguments that everyone can be angry about.

To me the question that should be asked is not "What is the worse I can get away with?" or "Why is God such a prick and doesn't like people having fun?" or "What is the worse kinds of sins so I can go hold up signs and go set those sorts of people on fire!?!"

To me the VITAL overlooked question is:

1.What is sin and why does it exsist?
2.Why would God send people to Hell over sin?

Obviously Jesus believed in sin as much as he believed that he was Messiah and was here to deliver people from it...and the next improtant question...

3.Why would people need to be delivered from something? Especially if they do not feel they are in need of delivering of any sort?

I just have been digging myself a huge hole that hopefully i won't bury myself in trying to get out of...

1.What is sin and why does it exsist?

Following what little the Bible actually says about the time before the creation you have God making the heavens and the earth and sometime around those two one of the highest angels named Lucifer began to be jealous (for whatever reason) and declared that he would be like the most holy and then decides to rebel against God and takes about a third of the angels with him, which is where you get the whole fallen angels/demon and tempters and the 'snake' in Genesis that tempts and helps humanity to fall.

Looking at any case of 'sin' and to me the chief problem is pride. This bloated sense that we are self sufficient creatures never in need of anything from anyone, be it human or divine assistance.

So in a nut shell sin as I can best tell is not just telling God no but declaring ourselves not in need of his love and the relationship he has wanted with us. Sort of like a wayward lover leaving and abandoning her groom right at the alter...after they have been separated for years and were finally going to be united as one.

There is something deeply broken and flawed in all people that sometimes just shows as little white lies and stolen candy...but at the same time is the same potential for another Holocaust, another Rwanda and another Sarajevo.

It kills me and makes me physically sick at times but humans have such a great potential for good but we so often stop ourselves and to me that is sin as well. It doesn't have to be the one causing rape and murder...it can be the complacency in our lives that causes us to ignore and not cry out and demand justice.

One last thought...something put forth but Augustine and about the only thing he said that doesn't make me want to strangle him is that, to paraphrase, is that "All sin really is, is good that has been twisted and malformed."

And that gives me hope...that even the worse cold blooded person...that the 'chief of sinners'...me even is just simply twisted in the wrong way...with enough love and grace that things CAN be better...that we aren't helpless or hopeless...but that we are loved.

2.Why would God send people to Hell over sin?

There is no way I can sum up an answer to this because I am STILL trying to figure out my exact beliefs on this...but not just what I want but what is truth...all the same I think my thought can be summed up much easier by C.S. Lewis:

"There are two kinds of people: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, "All right, then, have it your way.""

People love to think of Dante's Comedy and of imps, fire and everything when it comes to Hell...but I think the Bible is being somewhat metaphorical when it talks of Hell.

If God, Yahweh, Jesus...IS this infinite...incomprehensible source of life and light...that EVERY good thing...food, sex, kids, video games, sunlight, flowers, kittens, air, stars and everything good comes from him then can you imagine what the absolute worse thing in creation would be?

Eternal separation from that light, that life, that OXYGEN of creation...it is more than simple punishment...it is humans being so twisted that we begin to see light as dark and HATE the light because it burns...and I believe what is started in us here on earth is what we become in eternity...that if we have started to become like the Light we become light...but if we embrace the absolute darkness we become tainted and transformed and would hate the presence of God if he even offered it to us.

That is why there is no salvation for the angels. They are pure spirit and when they fell they instantly became riddled with the cancer of sin...and because we are half spirit and half flesh...we have time to see the consequences of our actions and to see what IS real and what IS truth. Not just the lies we get sold on and our own personal refuges so we can hide from reality.

*whew*

Hope I haven't put you to sleep yet. =)

3.Why do we need saving?

Simply put, the infection that is 'sin' is too great. We can't just beat it with the optimism stick because the nature of reality is that everything is fleeting and our ticket was up before we were born. None of us may have chose to live in this world but for whatever reason we are here.

It's beautiful and sucky and annoying and makes me double over in pain a lot of the time but all the same I believe we are here for more then just the sick amusement of divine chess players.

I believe God choose to come in human form as a Jewish person, a baby who became a man. Jesus was both God and man, an impossible mix of fully God and fully man. I can't say I understand it...life is like that though...full of impossibly good things that make sense because they make sense...if that makes sense.

God has been in love with us since the beginning and the Bible chronicles that...the Old Testament is Him trying to use a man named Abraham and his descendants as a way to show grace...from a small tribe to a huge nation...it is a tragedy that helps to show that humans simply cannot handle the responsibility of the divine.

And then, enter Jesus. This controversial rabbi who all to often is simply reduced to being the holder of a message of lovey dovey bad hippeness. Jesus was radical, he challenged the status quo, pissed off the religious authorities and ultimate died in the worse way possible.

Things would be SO LESS complicated if all Jesus taught was we should love each other and feed the hungry. Sometimes I wish that was all he was about because my life would be so much easier...but it is a lie to say all he cared about was our physical needs.

He fed the hungry and healed the sick to get their attention. To let them know they were loved, to know they were beloved children of God with not just physical ailments but deep seated spiritual needs...that whole sin thing. This seemingly living cancer that would eventually cause them to self destruct...no matter how well intended they were or how many good thoughts they had.

Sin grieves God desperately. So much so that he cannot be around it. You can't mix absolute light with absolute dark and God cannot be a part of sin...so for years the Israelites had to use a complicated religion system of sacrifice in order to try and appease Him but ultimately it failed because God WANTED us to see we can't save ourselves. That we are too utterly screwed to be able to do anything except lay down and die.

So the beautiful thing is that Jesus came and willingly died for a bunch of broken people able to do nothing but screw his message up and distort it for personal gain.

He loves us because He is love and wants us to be one with him. Those who are broken down and ultimately begin the process of being fixed by this love are told to tell others about that love...and we have failed.

Horrificly failed.

Just one look at a 'Christian' book store and all the absolute rubbish on the selves is enough to make me want to vomit. We theologians TOO OFTEN try to pin God down and define him in every way so that we don't have to serve someone who makes us uncomfortable and someone we can turn into a mascot for hating the modern day lepers...you know people who are gay, that have AIDS, those who smoke, people who are Muslims...all of these 'terrible' human beings that we somehow feel the need to judge.

I know it is not my place to carry around all of the failures of the church but I can't help BUT. I feel this guilt...this impossible weight that has to be fixed by God...but at the same time the responsibility I feel he is giving me to teach others and show them there is a better way then all of this rubish.

I hope I haven't gotten too off topic and put you our like a light.

Thanks for reading this and I'm going to feel like an idiot if I sent this to the wrong person. =)

You know...for someone I barely knew you have shaped me so much...more ways than I think you ever realized.

Every single piece of information analyzed...torn apart...built again and reanalyzed...what does it all mean?

It means I love you...I can't see or feel or hear you but I love you...almost as much as That Guy I suppose.

What are You getting me into here?

Another Day

This fragile breath cannot sustain,
while this frail hands seek to clasp life.
Contrary to popular thought,
I'm not okay.
I have tried lying through my teeth
but this time,
everyone but me bought it.
Threw in the chips
bought some prime time slots.
If you smile just enough
everyone will believe the lies.
Maybe its only pity
but who only knows such things?

You know, those pills...they look...quite nice today.
Yeah.
Today they are nice.

There is so much I believe in that I do not believe in or know.
Or understandingly know that I do not know.

The words of wisdom are folly
or that the air is full of lies
or that the rain falls in circles
or that this life is...
...just what it is.

There is such a strong streak of independence,
it runs here and there.

It is almost damning as it is life,
the relief of self into this...
...being of what is and will never be.

It demands it self be subtle,
yet at times it screams as is.
What is and will never be
as it lives and breaths as me.

Angst laced unrest is such a fun term to think about.

Especially considering the awkwardness of the world.

How self absorb the thought of self is, in and of itself.

It is hard for me to process or understand the stuff going on in and outside of my mind...the process of being...the thoughts of seeing...thinking...desire...want...all of these unknowable extremes of life and then some.

What is?
What less?
What more?

It all is and nothing more than will ever be.
Left and right turns.
It is all philosophical in their own ways.

I'm not sure who I am right now...or what is going on.

It is more than being tired...it is deeper than you or me.

This is it.
This is real.

Charlie Brown and Music

Just like I wrote December 8th, 2007 I am still the Charlie Brown of the music world, or at least in my world.

When I got home I had to run to the gas station shop to pick up some meds for my step dad...and while trudging in feeling and smelling like crap, I searched for the right pills and had to ask the girl behind the counter where they were.

Then the kid behind me asked how my band was doing.

Obviously this brought me up short.

Turns out he was one of the kids that I substitute taught last February BUT he was also one of the kids at the last 'concert' I performed with Tubbs and James under the moniker of 'Forgotten Purpose'.

Now, obviously I am not used to having people seem to even care about my personal endeavors, much less random teenagers, so I did what any other self respecting idiot in position would do...I lied.

I said things were slow but good, that school and work had us all tied up but overall we were good.

Why do I keep clinging to this fool's gold? This false idea? This absolute idiotic idea that it matters?

News flash folks! The dream is dead!

If I can be pretentious enough to quote John Lennon:

"The dream is over
What can I say?
the Dream is Over
Yesterday
I was the Dreamweaver
But now I'm reborn
I was the Walrus
But now I'm John
and so dear friends
you'll just have to carry on
The Dream is over"
-John Lennon, "God"

It's over.
The party is over.
I was a washed up, never was musician about the same time I became a washed up novelist.
It is all a load of bullshit I tell myself so I can sleep at night.
I always have the dream of maybe getting to play with friends again, make music, write songs and try to make a difference. The idea of writing words can somehow affect people and help them.
It is lies.
It is over.
Good bye.
Get the hell out of here now.
There is nothing to see.
This is just a walking car wreck waiting to happen, so pass on by because I do not care.

Some Days

Some days I just hate life.
This is one of them.

I feel so alone.
The distance is killing me but not as fast as I am.
Every half lie wrapped in a false breath.
The shadows play across the room
like a bad cinematic.
Every word you say
I quote to you,
just as you think to think
to say what you think you think
will make me happy
and placate your mind.
Not to mention your ego.

But, what do I know?
What can I say?
I would rather just rest right now,
in whatever shades of pain I have to embrace.

"To some people the church is their ticket to respectability, a certain bourgeois point of view, a safety net for when they go to bed. My idea of Christianity is no safety net, a scathing attack on bourgeois values, and a risk to respectability."

-- Bono

It is Finished (For this year at least)

Sometime Sunday morning, I forget the exact time, but I copied and pasted my latest manuscript and pasted it into the magic word counting machine on NANOWRIMO's website and cued up Queen's "We Are the Champions".

I clicked send.
I clicked play.
I saw the rather large "CONGRATULATIONS" message and laid back on the bed luxuriously bathing in the glory of Freddie Mercury's vocals and my own insane literary glee.

It has been a rather insane month that I only vaguely remember. A few of you were there to encourage me, to pick me up when I fell out of my desk chair weak from too much caffeine and too little food, you were kind enough to flatter me as needed and then threaten me with death when that was not enough. You saw past the grammatical issues that I still do not understand (The day I actually understand comma splices, the actual use of semicolons and how to properly pronounce hyperbole will be a key sign of the apocalypse; you have all been forewarned.) and saw a cause worth pursuing.

You were all godsends and I have to thank you all, every word of encouragement is worth more than the lower gasoline prices...

((crikey i have to finish later...stupid work ~_~ ))