Quote of the Day:

“Humankind cannot bear very much reality.”
-T.S. Eliot

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell I'm doing here?
I don't belong here

She's running out the door
She's running out
She runs runs runs

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here

Pain and the Frail Gifts from a Forked Tongue

If feelings can be ripped, torn and destroyed
then why do they persist to nag my heart?
Such lies, such pain, such frailty of conviction
and I morn this loss?

A fool and bastard I am,
of every sense
cut off and rejected,
thrown back to the pile of filth
and hate that courses through my veins.

Do you see this blood,
the sins of my past
passing and moving in shadows
crying out to I,
a cry that I should cut
and let blood pour
staining this grass
that has been my bed
in these stages of delirium.

Do you know hast?
Do you know hate?
Frailty that reeks
of a stench of rottenness
that all I ever was told
were mere lies,
pleasing to the speaker
and knives which rake upon my heart,
such a dark and deprave coal
that is no thing more than I.

Do you see this tripe,
this disgusting
verbose vomit?

I am but a creep
such a lowly insect
with a festering wound
just out of my reach.

Can I blame a nymph
for her sins
of being as she is?

Tis unbecoming of a man
to blame problems on others
when the problem was me
and all I can say is I will stand
and might die with dignity,
dignity that left the house of my father
and here I am.

Blood that is mud in my veins
and horror upon horror,
I know not the story
nor can I handle it.

I wish to be more, be more than I am
but it is nothing you will see
for my heart is closed.
This demon seed has been planted
and it crystallizes
and become a diamond.

Rough, hard, unbreakable
for your tendrils have grown deep
and all that I pull
makes the pain worse
and soon you will have a marker
if you care to dance upon
the tomb that will hold
these rotting bones.

Hold a mirror up
maybe hold it close
to see the bones under the makeup
and hollow the promises of a woman are made
such vain lies
I ate and dined on
for I believe the impossible
forgetting that fantasy
will never be reality.

Trust,
faith,
honor,
respect
such laughable terms
amounting to nothing more
than diarrhea of the mouth,
such a revolting pile of shit
that I only have myself to blame for.

I crushed and destroyed bridges
just for something that was a lie.

Bitter?
I?
Nay, just one whose virgin eyes
were ripped open
by the gaping hole in my soul
and for daring
to open my heart to such fables,
such indiscriminate lies.

Look closely,
count the vowels
and see the pain in every symbol
every frail postulate
as it may be my last.

These words must burn,
must face the fire of correction
for the only fool as me
in and out
in and out
and soon to say goodbye.

Do not blink
for you may miss my exit,
crashing and burning
and unable to cope
with how harsh reality is
and shall ever and forever be.

It is, it is.
Thank you for it,
thank you for the pain
because I feel grace
where I would not have.
You ripped me apart
calling my life sin
and demonstrating
every fault
and every sin
making me see
and feel why humanity
should be purged,
ripped from our place.

Why such games?
Such a Divine Madman
holds back
not destroying us
and yet here we are.

Goodnight, good bye
and fare well.
Do not let the door hit you
as you leave
and know there is no return
and never a second chance.

This heart is closed.
A diamond forged
from the pressures and pain.
See the caricature you created
but do not touch the strings,
they are nothing more
than rusted barb wire,
created in the tumble and fall from grace
and rusted from the bitter hot tears
I was told to never share.

Good riddance to a waste of space,
farewell to my ocuping this pain.
I do not want this
and refuse to carry it any more.

Shadow boxing
and fighting my own shadow
because I am who I am.

I can handle being single
because I have to.
I refuse to lead others on
and crush them and treat them
as play things
just to increase my self worth
and because I can stand the silence.

Having my dad and grandmother
ripped from me
by distance, disease and death
just made me darker
made me more silent
and forced me to abandon the lie
that the good people get rewarded.

We will stand, fight
and die horrible deaths.
Not for a stupid gold road
or mansions
but to be held and have our tears wiped away
by one bigger
so much more beautiful than you can know.

Pain is what opens the path to God,
sin costs blood
and I would bleed all of mine now
just to be closer
to feel the love I scarcley believe is true.

Maybe in several thousand years
of healing
of pergutory
and grace making me new
I can look in your eyes and not feel pain,
not see the rejection
and contempt for the bastard I am.

Goodnight,
farewell,
let the pain be as it will be
for I am who I am.

Broken, bloodied and dying
but more alive now
than I ever was.

I think I enjoy writing and playing villains because it allows me to tap into a really dark side of myself that I normally do everything I can to avoid showing or being a part of.

However...mad genius is at work here...

Quote of the Day:

"Fanaticism consists of redoubling your effort when you have forgotten your aim."
—George Santayana

"the farther I fall I'm beside you
as lost as I get I will find you
the deeper the wound I'm inside you
for ever and ever I'm a part of

you and me
we're in this together now
none of them can stop us now
we will make it through somehow
you and me
if the world should break in two
until the very end of me
until the very end of you

all that we were is gone we have to hold on
when all our hope is gone we have to hold on
all that we were is gone but we can hold on

you and me
we're in this together now
none of them can stop us now
we will make it through somehow
you and me
even after everything
you're the queen and I'm the king
nothing else means anything"

Yes.

I am that guy who will go do something or get something at 2am, 11pm of any other absurd when I already have a half million things to do.

I'll even do it without so much as a thanks.

Just because of love.

I want to learn how to love even those I do not know...those whom I hate with that passion...but even more so, the same passion God has for the lost sheep and the ones who have become wolves and preying on other sheep.

Even if it means taking a Shepard's staff and striking to protect the innocent and those being preyed upon.

I want to show love that is beyond my capacities and beyond my beliefs and is straight from the lips of Christ.

Why is it so easy to be angry...bitter, jealous...feeling these rush of beings at once.

There is good, wonderful and beautiful things in life...

It is just hard to see things from before...with a more naive approach.

I suppose the trick is learning to not trust, trying to give everything in the right manner to find an ace to keep up your sleeve...

Time to mentally check out of reality to do some serious writing...

Certain people...yeah...certain people.

Being alive is nice though.
Woo.

So much joy and apathy spun into one day...

Quote of the Day:

"No, no, no way, Reinette Poisson? Later Madame D'Etoiles, later still mistress of Louis XV, uncrowned Queen of France? Actress, artist, musician, dancer, courtesan. Fantastic gardener! ...I'm the Doctor, and I just snogged Madame de Pompadour!"
-The Doctor

*Brain explodes*

After both playing and running tabletop games for over a decade this comic made me laugh and cringe just because of how often scenarios like this actually arise:

http://www.darthsanddroids.net/episodes/0098.html

Quote of the Day:

"Grand Viziers were always scheming megalomaniacs. It was probably in the job description: 'Are you a devious, plotting, unreliable madman? Ah, good, then you can be my most trusted advisor.'"
—Terry Pratchett

It is sort of morbidly humorous to see people throw God around as being the cosmic cause for their incredibly idiotic effects.

I suppose there is always someone else to blame...what good would taking personal responsibility do anyway...right?

Part Time Messiah

I really thought I said I was done with this gig.

I drew a line, marked it out and said "No more. No more trying to carry the world, much less any of its stupid little apes that managed to get themselves in trouble and decide to come crying to me."

After all, what can I do?

I can barely contain the insanity swirling in and out of my soul...emotions, thoughts, feelings, chemical reactions, physical actions...insanity day in and day out...so what can I do?

I do not care.

I have tried to do everything and have ended up doing nothing...I am not writing the world off but I am writing the parasites away.

I willingly bleed my soul out to people who are not even worth my trust...so why should I whore my time, soul, sanity and well being just to hear someone bitch and moan about how terrible their life is?

I am human.
I am a sinner.
I, for reasons beyond my understanding, am a sinner saved by grace.

But by no stretch of the imagination does that make me perfect, some sort of all knowing guru who is going to sacrifice his well being for the greater good.

I am no one's hero.
I am barely ranking as an antihero.
I would fit much more comfortable in the ranks of being an apathetic villain.

And yet Jesus calls to me to lay down my arms, lay down my pain, my rage, my anger...my everything and follow...to where?

I do not know.
I do not know so much...and yet the love, the grace, forgiveness...so many things I take for granted, I forget, I throw back into the heavens when I just stop caring and break down...

I am loved.
Even when I am enraged and unlovable, when I do not show grace and I hurt people's feelings...when I back stab them and then I narcotize myself with apathy, uncaring and abject ed hated.

Even when I do not know what to do and I fail.
I am loved, love so dearly, chased after and longed for by some sort of Divine Madman that really should know when to quit...but He never has.

I'll never know why.

But that is okay.

I am loved.

Quote of the Day:

"That old saw about 'to understand all is to forgive all' is a lot of tripe. Some things, the more you understand the more you loathe them."
-Robert A. Heinlein

With all of my complaining, whining and general negativity...there is so much horror, so much pain in this world that my problems are reduced to the insignificant little nothings they really are.

Seeing, hearing, feeling the pain running through the eyes and souls...

And I realize that I do not know how to pray.

Millstones for Sell

The chords around my neck
are starting to choke
wrapping tight
and cutting me off
from whatever else is in this world.

The absence in me
is this gaping hole
this want to be loved
and maybe just accepted
but
I'm not sure it ever mattered
because
if I was loved
would there be this gap
from where you left?

It feel so stupid
to pray
and write letters
so someone so far gone
that I do not think
and maybe I even know
I will never see again.

Why speak of fair
and cry out in pain
to a God
who only seems
to move
only as needed...

My faith may be weak
and bloodied
with so many broken bones
but hope still prevails
moving within me.

I don't have words
and I never will,
no one can understand
nor want to feel
this void
that ever is a part of me.

Maybe in the next Age
the healing will come,
every tear will be wiped away
and the screaming pain
may just subside.

Until then I will walk the shadows,
moving in and out life
as I look,
pray for hope
and falter in step.

The exceptionally sad thing is that the person who actually bothers to believe my lies is me.

Yeah.

Sad.

Quote of the Day:

"...but the cruelest thing you can do to an artist is tell them their work is flawless when it isn't."
-Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw

I just want to stop hurting.
Is that too much to ask?

Faith and hope are bone weary, running out and so tired.

Does it matter?

So many questions, too much time and so much exhaustion.

Hope is there, just too tired and too weak to move.

Sunday was one of the most peaceful evening I have had in months..if not years.
Even just with watching Doctor Who, it was nice to feel apart of something more real that may last word may be the more illinoformed

Quote of the Day:

"The religious persecution of the ages has been done under what was claimed to be the command of God. I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do to their fellows, because it always coincides with their own desires."
-Susan B. Anthony


http://www.thelizlibrary.org/undelete/library/library005.html