Word Play Minus the Play

I have such a ridiculous amount of rage right now. Sometimes I have no clue what is going on up there. Why do such subtle and small things cause me to simply almost explode with rage and violence?

I hate being here, living here. There are no words in the English language that can just convey the amount of disgust I have for my egotistical and narcissistical bastard self right now.

I want to rage and rant about being told to do things, being treated like a child...how infuriating it is to not have my pain taken seriously.

It feels like a bad joke being taken too seriously.

A little compassion or empathy to ask?

Not just for myself but for people who actually need it.



There are just parts of my mind and soul that are beyond definition, beyond phrases, beyond comprehension. Beyond the loose definitions of anything around here, beyond the misconceptions and derisive laughter.

I'm just sick of it all and want it to be ripped away. I want the curtains separating the physical with the metaphysical ripped down and torn into shreds. I want to see the existential dread and look it in whatever passes for eyes. I want to take the fear in my hands and unleash visceral hatred and feel the pain of busted knuckles and broken bones and taste the dying blood of something that has been a part of me before I even knew of me.

It's exhausting running in pointless circles, being tripped up on useless medication that does nothing but make me question the point of my next breath. I don't hate the beast I am underneath my wool, I love it too much and do not know how to let go and be responsible with reality.

I'm sick of having to develop excuses for every breath I take, to feel I have to justify every last bite of food I take. I'm fucking tired of having to look in the mirror at you and give excuses for why I'm still sitting in this rotting house with the vain hope that it is going to collapse in on me and snuff out this inexcusable life of mine.

I love to talk about love but am loath to give it.
I am all about embracing this hate, this anger, this lust of desire and letting it run its course until I'm embittered and angry about being angry.

I can keep running these circles or violently end it while I can still choose to choose because choice is the only choice for this imprisoned.

But this, this lethargy, this cancer eating my soul...I'm sick, sick of it.

I'm so tired of pain and nausea and hurting with no purpose or reason other than I simply am.

That is not enough and never will be.

So As

My mind is much too fried for poetic expression.
I'm so tired, oh so worn down.
When was the last time I could breath?
I'm not even sure about direction
or where it was I was heading.

The only thing to cause this much pain
can be love.
The only thing to bring as much pain
is the memories of hope.

I can't imagine time with you
any more than I can imagine me.
Or reimagine things
as they could
and should be.

Imaginative really.
Trying to make thoughts rhyme,
making them fall in line.
Peace, hope and love
just fair thoughts really
victims of apathy.

Close

ειρήνη

ελπίδα

αγάπη

Eh, close enough...

Je déteste l'utilisation de l'internet pour essayer de traduire, mais il est beaucoup plus facile que le simple usage de l'anglais quand il se sent comme je le dis, chaque mot est pris trop au sérieux et que je ne peux plus être moi-même dans ce domaine que j'ai utilisé pour appeler les miens.

Mais Dieu, est-ce que je vous manquez.

Qui est à mes propres faiblesses.

Une partie de cette prison ainsi.

Votre beauté me laisse à perte pour les mots, ces mots fragiles ne commencent pas à vous montrer mon amour ou de mes soins, tout mon corps finis et les brisures de soi.

Tu me manques.

Stress has been building up and unless I take a huge breath and a step back away from this mess...I dare say I will snap again.

It's nice to see snow for once.

Such Eyes as These

Not being able to express
the inexpressible
is beginning to take its toll.
Images flood the screen
and all they do is remind,
remind of the empty
and the shallow graves
that awaits all invalid thought.

It is a binding
a chain around the heart
that chokes with every moment
of the passing day.
All screams and smiles
are just choked
and held in place
in ways you will never know,
unless you know what I know now.
I pray you stay ignorant
just so you can breath.

Even if things could be
this slice of perfection,
then what?
I'm afraid the perfection
would be tainted by my breath
or we would realize
how much we aren't,
our disdain for one another
and that the dream
was a nightmare we now run from.

It's a fear
and a chance.
But it could be more,
so much more.
Past the impossible.

But God,
dear God the pain.
My own hypocritical hyperbole.
God forgive me.
Please.
Don't fall away
but draw near.
Keep me in the night
and take me when I break.
Hold me like only you can
and only you will,
even at my worst.

On Circles of Time...

I keep typing out these words
attempting to explain what they meet
forgetting the point is moot
because you already know.

You've seen the story of my heart
and the ways of my life,
seen these stones rolled away
and seen hearts bleed out love in their ways.

There could never be enough words,
never be enough ways
and never enough time
to just give you everything
that you deserve.
Give you all the words
to explain your finite beauty
which burns from the infinite gift
you have been given
which I can see,
just with one look in your eyes.

Thankfully time isn't just this one way line,
a symmetrical system we can grasp.
If eternity is infinity
then we can be complete, be one
even if that doesn't mean the present time.
Or tomorrow.
But it does mean now and forever.

Just in Hope

If it happens to snow tonight,
just like the news man says
I can always hope it falls heavy and new.
Fall upon this dark heart
with its light dusting
falling from the heavens above.
Falling to make things new.
One can always hope when it melts,
when the temperature of my heart
heats it beyond its points of life
that the water it makes will melt
and fill in the crevices within.

Sometimes just reading someone's story is enough to remind you of the communality we share...and in my case makes me cry.

This is one those times.

I could stand to be a bit less overemotional...

*Sigh*

It Only Comes Out At Night

My soul doesn't sleep at night.
All the darkness does is serve to remind
how alone and afraid the night can be.
A reminder of how my soul,
how it can only have this one real connection
and that anything else is just finite.

There is the absence of light
this fear of all the burning it brings
and the pain it reveals.
All of the ugly scars and the truth
that can no longer hide from me.
All reveled in an instant to the world
all the secrets worked so hard to conceal.

The night hides everything I never wanted
and is given to me in dreams.
Dreams of Hell fire and
of deepest wasters of darkness.
Reminders of the finite little boy here,
that he cannot survive nature
much less his own fears.

It's this night that acts as a cancer
eating at my soul.
Showing every little fault line
and every moment that has cut my heart,
pressing deep on the wounds
making me unable to breath.

It is this night that dares to taunt me
and dares to remind me of my loss.
How this chasm has grown deeper by day
and wider by night.

To live is to hurt.
Memories are bitter sweet
but sometimes so bitter
that I do not know if I was better with them
or without them at the time,
much less now
when all the final nail needs
is just a simple breeze.

Love is not finite.
It has no compromises.
Just that which is imposed on it
to please those it needs.
So that it is not forever alone.
Love mends, builds and restores.
Just as easy as it kills on a whim.
Passionate insanity,
a delusion based in the soul
and carried out by a diseased mind and body.

But it is this coming night I fear.
The night when I awake to find the day has fled
and all is now hidden by night eternal.
That you are nowhere to be found
and I weep alone,
held in place by the nights cover.
Keeping me sanitized
from the offensive perturbation
and protrusion
of love into this night
hiding my soul so sweetly
and with the utmost kindness
found only in the night's dark charity.

Lovely Talk Tonight

I'm sitting here wishing
I had some good news to give.
I'm sitting here and hearing
just every word in every phrase
of everything I never wanted you to say,
to feel the quiver of your lips
moving in slow ways
with resounding doubt.
But better this time than last.

I wanted to say it's alright
or that I'm sorry.
Sorry for crimes I haven't committed yet,
just some words to get your mind
moving elsewhere,
to give them form here.
On an adventure to see,
just so you see how beautiful you are.

It feels too trite to say,
too disarrayed to know
too broken to feel
too many ways
to not know how to say
just how little love
just how much pain
just how insufficient
I am,
and how the future should be more.
So much brighter than what I can offer to say,
offer to do for it.

Out of sync rhymes hoping to make sense
over the snaps and cracks
of a world falling out of place
and it landing in your backyard.
Given the choice none of us would have asked for it
but we get the gifts
of universal fear, doubt and understanding
and grace just
and only just as we need it.

I want to be the one who doesn't care
about the thoughts of others
but it means neglecting
even betraying a part of me
that I just cannot let go of.

It's like I cannot help but look at this mirror
and see what is behind me.
The background is my foreground
as much as I'm your foe.
This odd and needed reversal.

I can't help but want to see some real transformation
to see this fake part of town on fire
seeing everything burned down
and made new.
Renewed with the pain of burning
and being made beautiful again.
To see the location
of your soul
be found again.
Smiles of sunlight
on these blades of grass.
They need you so they won't wither.
Without you there is no life,
no life for the place you are given.

It's not like we're living for today
anymore then it was yesterday
or the year before.
It's not like we're running out of time
just the minutes of every day.

It's not like it's new
we've been through this every day of our life,
every moment before we knew of the other
as if somehow,
we always had this intristic connection
that was made before time began.
That love which shaped creation with words
making us to be who we are before we knew.
Before we knew the potential of life
or the Hell is becomes.
Before we could scarcely hope to believe in hope
or that we can find each other.
The need to know we are both here and there
even when there is nothing in between.
That the longing felt can be made whole,
that the two halves torn apart will be restored.

That there is love to be had,
hope to be found,
love to restore
and hope to heal.

That these thoughts,
these wild whispers of untamed hope
might find life in your breath.
That they may be brought back to life
and set the fire in your heart
so you aren't afraid to ask,
ask the hard questions when all you want is
all that you are never seeing.

There are never words enough to offer,
prayers cried
or screamed into heaven.
There will never be enough verbal expression
or words being written
that can give justice to emotion
and its merest of consequences.

We can talk about sleep
but what about when it never comes?
Like the pause before dawn
except this is looking into an abyss
of self established failure.

But it is more,
more than you
and thankfully more than me.
It's behind you
and inside you.
Waiting to catch flame
and burn ever bright.
Love on its way down to the top.

I don't know how much longer I can just keep holding on like this, in whatever way I'm doing it.

I'm tired.

Just...I don't know how I keep falling back...like this.

Breathing

I'm not sure what I was thinking or what I am thinking now.

Things are so hazy and unsure...different paths...potential...with so much that can go wrong...so many hurt feelings...so much taken the wrong way...I'm afraid to speak much less stand up and make a decision.

I'm afraid if things keep going this way I'm going to just explode and do something rather rash.

But it is nice to say hello...even though digital portals don't convey enough feeling, enough emotion and soul...it is nice to say hello even when things don't exactly make sense and organic matter is failing to do its job.

It's funny...every time I start to feel like I'm going crazy or that the pain is in my head, I just sort of double over and sometimes try not to scream.

I mean, certainly that sounds over dramatic, I haven't screamed...more just low moans of pain amongst wondering why it feels God won't do anything...but it's a matter of perspective. Thankfully this isn't worse, I'm not on fire, right?

The nice comfort I can solace in right now is just moving forward.

In a sane pattern and into a world less known but better than the one I inhabit.

I'm choking on the noxious fumes from this toxicity...that I live in and around...memories that cannot and will not die...reminders of my own shortcomings and forthcoming demise...a cavernous sarcophagus painted in white and pale blue, filled to the brim with books and papers not doing a thing.

Part of the problem is me, no doubt.

But the problem is also outside as well as inside.

I'm not even negative or narcissistic enough to think I can be this bad...but I'm ready to leave it, the pain.

I just am not sure on how to stand up or on walking.

Crawling isn't the worst option at least...

Gargh...

Well that was a depressing punch in the face.

Now what God?

Yes.

Sure.

Okay.

But you should know waiting does indeed suck.

No offense intended.

I'm looking, looking for something more real.

Something that is going to last.

But it is sort of a pity because there is nothing more real than life itself and it will dissolve into the sand with the rest of time.

Oh how I hate pain.

I Hate Money...

...or really the lack of it to be honest.

Goodbye World of Warcraft for the foreseeable future.

Hello writing, self loathing, job hunting and grad school applications!

Oie.

Over the top systematic theology makes me have ulcers.

Bah.

Misc. Demetri Martin Jokes

Defining Guilt

"Let wickedness escape as it may at the bar, it never fails of doing justice upon itself; for every guilty person is his own hangman."
-Seneca


Before being able to tackle such a large and wide range of questions we first have to figure out just what we are talking about. Guilt, like the words grace, hope, charity, love, mercy and etc. are words that are Christian in nature (but quite obviously reaching much further back in history than the past two centuries) but have lost much of their real meaning because of overuse and over saturation in conversation.

People feel guilty for smoking, for eating chocolate, for driving SUV's, for eating red meat, for liking 90's pop music and the list goes on.

Conversely speaking, people openly do not feel guilt over raping, over killing others, over abortions, for lying and causing innocent people to go to jail, for torturing and abuse directed towards animals and so on.

There is a deliberate contrast to that list.

The first list contains things people do to themselves which can be bad but are not necessarily 'evil'. Whereas the second list is composed of things which can be (and in my opinion) are things which people should either feel guilt over or at least require a second thought, a looking into the soul over before, during and after.

The question that is being posed is "Why?"

Why bother stopping to think of my actions?
What makes an action 'good' or 'bad' or a reason someone should feel this horrible and crushing dread sensation?

Let's find a working definition of the word.


Dictionary.com says that :

guilt
/gɪlt/[gilt]
–noun
1. the fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, esp. against moral or penal law; culpability: He admitted his guilt.
2. a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.
3. conduct involving the commission of such crimes, wrongs, etc.: to live a life of guilt.


Guilt is a noun, it is a thing, a state of mind and possibly a state of being as well.


I. The first offered definition of guilt is a state of unquestionable being. An action that violate an either spoken or unspoken law or moral code and the offender is seen as being unquestionably guilty. In other words there somehow and in someway exists this intrinsic part of our being that shouts out when something happens that violates this code.

If a child is about to eat an apple an a bigger child walks up, punches the kid in the face and steals the apple; the first kid KNOWS something has been violated somewhere. He hurts, he is in pain and no longer has his apple. Whether the second child realizes it or not he has broken two very wide held laws that are against thievery and abuse against another human.

This definition does NOT require a person to know of their guilt. All that is requires is that stand accused of this crime in others minds and that a standard has been broken.



II. The second definition is about this abstract, mental anguish of the mind and soul where a person FEELS that they have violated that unspoken moral code. This guilt is the consequence of a person realizing or feeling that they have broken a law or rule and because of either their pain or the pain they have caused there is this interruption.

An example would be if someone was speeding along on the road, flying down it in a sports car pushing a hundred miles per hour and then they run over tire spikes. Needless to say the car looses it's four tires and comes to a literal crashing stop. In a way, when a human realizes they have done something and feels remorse, that same screeching halt occurs. For some it is a light tap on the breaks and for others it is a spectacular explosive car crash worthy of Hollywood cinema.

It varies by person, personal belief and the empathy that one posses towards others.



III. The third and final definition is that of a lifestyle of guilt. To knowingly cause harm and then continue on with life. Sociopaths, professional criminals and the super spiritual are sure to apply for this.

This goes beyond simply feeling and knowing remorse, it requires willful breaking of this law and continually doing so.

The interesting wording of this definition is not that a person accidentally or somehow is ignorant of the law, the person realizes they are violating an ethic standard but at the same time they continue. This pushes well beyond simple understanding and requires a deep delving into the mind, the psyche, the soul, the base reasoning and understanding of that person to even begin to the attempt to grasp at understanding of their behavior.

There are no easy examples of this because each person, each case is a unique example of this state. Seemingly few people willfully subject themselves to abuse but it almost feels as if this understanding of guilt is rampant among those who believe. The guilty are only suppose to run when they think they are being pursued but with the epic marathon being ran one would think most of the population are personally guilty for a genocide worth of sin.



Why do some people feel unable to breath after making a small lie whereas others can easily kill a dozen people based upon their racial heritage and then sleep at night?

There are quite obviously no easy answers in range of grasp.

The very Christian (and a personal belief) of a literal human fall from grace, of us willfully walking from love, peace and grace; and then leaping into the lordship of self servitude is a rather unhappy thought but with enough sincerity one can begin to see the truth of this.

I cannot speak for others really but only make broad assumptions based upon my personal experince. Either everyone else in the world is somewhat like me or drastically different.

Speaking of pain...

"Life is pain, Highness! Anyone who says differently is selling something."
-Westley as The Dread Pirate Robertson, "The Princess Bride"


...I think maybe I quote that too much... >_>

Hmm...

I guess I'll work on those questions in the morning.

In the mean time I wish I felt less...distant and sad and feeling...weird and awkward in my mind...and could just...sleep.

Questions on Guilt

1.Is there such thing as 'good' guilt?

2.What does this look like?

3.What is the cause of it?

4.At what point does 'good' guilt become 'bad' guilt?

5.What are the origins of evil?

6.What is the Satan to man ratio of evil in the world and personal levels?

7.What about those who do not believe in Satan? Is there problems that go unchecked
by not acknowledging his existence?

8.Should people feel guilty for acts they do not commit? Or to clarify the point further, what about events they unintentionally cause?

9.Furthermore why do people feel guilt for things they have no control over or situations where there was no malicious intent?

10.Is there could be a biological reason for guilt?

11.Why do you think people lie?

12.Why do you think Christians seem to be so afraid to have open minds (even if they disagree with the thought) or watch a movie that might not be right in line with their thoughts or hear a bad word or whatever?

Pain:

It sucks but is a fundamentally unavoidable part of life.