Rituals.

Some personal favorites. According to Einstein's theory of relativity, Chuck Norris can actually roundhouse kick you yesterday. Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table. Because Chuck Norris only recognizes the element of surprise. When Chuck Norris falls in water, Chuck Norris doesn't get wet. Water gets Chuck Norris. Some kids piss their name in the snow. Chuck Norris can piss his name into concrete. Chuck Norris' calendar goes straight from March 31st to April 2 nd ; no one fools Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice. Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried. Once, while having sex in a tractor-trailer, part of Chuck Norris' sperm escaped and got into the engine. We now know this truck as Optimus Prime. Chuck Norris was originally cast as the main character in 24, but was replaced by the producers when he managed to kill every terrorist and save the day in 12 minutes and 37 seconds. Chuck Norris can speak braille. If you spel

I am the bride’s head Severed from the body I live in the future, Where science cannot follow And I seek out the prophetic god The one who’s seen it all I ask for his hand in marriage And he gives me my own (even though I had left it behind) So I reject him For he gave me what I already had I continue traveling the distant path In a small clearing I come upon a witch (She has a sugar house) Seated on a stool in the front yard Tending a burning, boiling, black pot Snacking on a child’s bones I am the bride’s head, hesitating So she asks me what I want “A place in the sun.” And she laughs The wolf, who is the moon, has eaten it And it will not be back till it rises over the horizon The end of night Which she assures me will never come As long as I am looking at the world through my own eyes I ask to borrow hers She screams And cowers in her house Licking her fingers clean I cry, a single tear, (I was misunderstood) And continue on my way The woods play tricks on my eyes as

I've been busy. I mean, I've actually been busy. So naturally, I've gotten nothing done. Night.

Pulling Teeth. Seriously, pulling teeth.

I'm suffocating. This was the one job I did not want to do again. I never wanted it in the first place. And now, here I am in khakis and a collared shirt. I feel like I'm choking. Literately as well, because I hate these cheap, crappy shirts with giants collars that swallow your neck. The sleeves are annoying too. But at least they had my size. Man, this sucks. And I know, be grateful for what I have. And I am, I swear. I'd just be more grateful if I got something else. And I know, there's no rule against looking for another job while I have this one. But who are we kidding, we're talking about me. I imagine that everyday after work, I'm just going to come home, kick off my shoes, rip off my shirt, and veg in front of the TV until I drag myself to bed, and then drag myself out of it in the morning, and start all over. : raspberry : Man. I have to go.

Stuff. Crap. Whatever.

How about instead of having celebrities tell us who to vote for, or tell us to support the person they support, or suggest we're stupid for not agreeing with them, how about we just have celebrities who tell us their opinion and then tell us to form our own? Wouldn't that be revolutionary? And I suppose there are many out there who would want it to go a step further, skipping the part where celebrities tell us their opinion at all. But, for me, it really doesn't matter whether celebrities speak or not. I wish more would speak intelligently, but that's my personal opinion. It'd also be nice to have celebrities who are famous for skill and talent, rather than being famous for being famous. But then, I'm not a celebrity, so I doubt any one's going to listen to my opinion anyway. Anyway, I just don't feel it's very responsible to say "Vote...but only for who I tell you." More like "Do some research. Then vote." Although, I'd have

Minimum wage in Michigan is $7.40 an hour. Figuring to work 40 hours a week, figuring taxes to be about a third of your income, an individual is expected to make less than $800 a month. The average, decent apartment (and this is probably a conservative estimate) in Grand Rapids is about $500 a month. For one bedroom. How, exactly, is a person supposed to live on $300 a month? I mean, I'm sure some people out there have figured out how, have managed to stretch their dollars. But considering the cost of utilities, phones, gas, etc., how exactly is one supposed to eat? What does someone do in an emergency? I mean, think of it, car registration and insurance in Michigan is required. Registration, for a one inch sticker to place on your license plate is about $80. If, after rent, you only have $300 a month, and you're already stretching that to the brink, where is $80 supposed to come from? It's paralyzing to think that one person cannot, or barely, survive on a full-time job. A

I am down the watership sinking my body has failed my mind I am tethered my feet are buried in the earth while my mind seeks the wind to fly, a kite on the breeze and gone gravity perplexes me, that it will not cooperate when I ask so politely to lift above the air the tarpits grab my thoughts with metal, bone, flesh-stripped claws, existed a thousand years waiting for these words I will never say, buried in my mental grave pointless sticks, I stab myself I do not bleed I court the other side, the yellow lines crossed, flirting with the disaster that never comes, tempted by metal smiles and varnish that drives away I covet the heights, my gods, the temples others built for other creatures I shall never meet, and I see the end, the edge of the world rushing towards me with the speed of the sunset I am forbidden in these places, rejected by the society I do not, never, seek Regret, this constant companion the voice of the republic whispers through the dark shadows of a house I cannot lea

Anubis, the African King The Jackal-headed man Has left me a message in the sand Shall I read it, my good friend? I know what it will say But there’s a chance that I am wrong If I read it, I will know But if I read it, I will know Shall I read it, sweet sovereign sister? The words that dance like samba They speak of you And all the ill that you have done All the lies that you have told me As we walk this desert, hand in hand Shall I read it, kind and gentle lover? With all the lies exposed The knife in your hand That I see your shadow raise My back I give to you Shall I read it, violent partner? It can be our sweet lullaby The sands that tell me all I’ve ever needed know The hourglass that holds them close Shall I read it and tell you what he told me? Of the life that awaits you Of the path your carve Of how you deserted me Of how I cannot be mad, because you walked with me blind, and I changed the course of my feet Shall I read it and hear him scold me? Shifting between who I am and y

Sitting, darkness, dream Sleep, sleep Mindless sheep Sleep Led to slaughter Lead me Take me Wish to be Warmth of wool Smell of blood Salt water Taste Gravity reversed The up Brings down Smashed Against ground Broken Wheeled Intensive care No one Cares Broken Wheeled Cliff Gone

Not sure on the name. My head splits Growing legs and walking towards the sun I think My words are broken Quicksand falls too slow like snow Piled upon the ground like mounds of the dead dying in the sunshine, flesh burnt from this scientific allergy My head splits Growing legs and walking towards the sun Dali elephants that dance in the morning light Flitting from the flowers where I can drown in the dew I hit the atmosphere and burst into flames My body breaking off into space My head says no, shaking side to side like spastic seizures, like all I can say is this word I don’t mean, like all I can say The change is inadequate the transformation impossible, divinely spawned, divinely spurned Rejection lancing into my veins like ecstasy that kills me on my first attempt The numbered dead death The burning facts fax and figures My figure I figure My hands words are broken Yet they tumble waterfalls from my tips Disconcerting this disarray this attempt at meaning above meaning below being

Sleep eternally To break the spell of memory This work of art that I am locked inside The papers burnt in a furnace’s fire No one will see the misery of my mind The world escapes subjugation to my brilliance You shall never know what you have missed And I shall never be missed The glory of this coat I wear Absent of the recognition I deserve Accolades Acolytes Disciples Deception The liar and her burning tongue Which only speaks the truth Build in me The power to defy you Build in me The will to use it Give me the power to destroy The cities you have built The towers to your infamy The vanity of vanity I am the Goddess of the Night If I were a goddess If I were the night I cultivate the greenery around me and twist it black in the pot I look out through the sides of my eyes Cleopatra make-up to make me sinister To reflect what I am The Witch of the Grey In tall twisted towers that watch the world with silent eyes of cold and heavy rock I wait as the world builds on me and snap only whe

The mother lives in me With ice in the corner of my eye I am the harsh winter The burden of snow in a shifting world My place has come undone beneath my feet I have been speared The breastbone broken Thrown back Bleeding on the battlefield, the victim of the hunt The mother lives in me Cultivated by choices I haven’t made That I cannot claim as mine I have tended a green garden of a thousand different plants Sometimes the vines strangle me Sometimes the fragrance smothers me But I have never failed to return As regular as the sun I have learned alchemy From these, my children I have perfected the potion I daily ingest The mother lives in me I know because I cannot go These plants are delicate So I cannot trust another The air blazes burnt orange Filtered by fallen leaves I hover between imagery and meaning A kite On the breeze Unsure where I will go The first frost is coming soon And what omen does that bring? The Mother Lives In Me And I cannot say why I am distracted by these summer

I am the hungry caterpillar I sense in me the potential to become something new But when I look in the mirror I am constantly surprised that I’ve yet to transform I am waiting in my cocoon My hard shell I have eaten pesticide And sleep in a coma I crawl out of my grave to a great, grey graveyard surrounded by the tombs of those who’ve meant nothing to anyone, least of all to me But they are my kin The ignoble dead and dead alike rise up from the ground with unbending knees We lurch to the east and await the rising sun Bursting into flames as the line touches us A nauseating display of pyrotechnics My breath is caught in my throat at the rollercoaster’s plunge The clack of wood The crack of leather Whipped by the scorpion’s tail I am poisoned These words are in a foreign tongue I cannot understand them I will not comprehend tomorrow what I have felt today Each day I’m born Each night I die My skin is burning with a fire I cannot source I roll in the dirt I claw the flesh from my bones B

Not sure how I feel about this one. The supple grip of sinking waters The cold, cold grip of icy fathers The call of cigarettes and lighters The matches I light beneath my burning hand I cannot break free of this cycle that I cannot comprehend My mind is chained to a physical form Everything I see I detest The disgusting human flesh LED flashes in my positronic brain A purple scent drifts behind my eyes Flashes of a black and white face The destruction of a map So I cannot return to this place Torn like paper are my paper-thin walls Obvious has replaced the irony I cannot give what I do not have And I could not give a damn

It’s a cruel, cruel summer _____ The day that I was born I wake to burning skies Orange and copper that tears the skin from my bones as I stand naked in the light I stand bare against the summer sun and dream of waves that can wash me away The ground has pulled me close The sky has pushed me away Gravity claimed me as a child and clipped my wings I have been deceived about my heritage But it is too late for me to fix Bright eyes speak to me through darkness Glints of Gleaming and hints of the horrors yet to come Beyond the horizon lays the ocean Beyond the sea lies the edge of the world that I’d hoped to see Beyond the horizon lies more horizon, always on _____ its side. Always lying down under the weight of _____ hopes and dreams the travelers before me have _____ abandoned, hoping to make it one step farther. And around the next bend lie their corpses and I find _____ myself among family. My kin The Elephant Graveyard relocated The night. The darkness. The light of the moon. The

If I don’t go now I could die If I don’t run I could die If I don’t find the end I will meet my end If I don’t hurry I will stop If I sing I will dance If I spiral I will fall If I fall I will die If I die I will soar If I question They will answer If I tell They will anger If I tell They will not care If I tell I will lie If I I will I won’t I could I might I’ll never If I try I will let it all down If I go down It will be in flames If I burn I will cry If I cry I will live If I live It will all begin again The Sisyphus Hill

I lay side by side with my dog Like I would with a lover I pet her while I rest To give my mind rest from the anxious thoughts that swell The desire to sleep cast by the expulsion of my emotive thoughts Soon my mind will play tricks on me and call them dreams Soon my mind will play tricks on me and take them away I will wake in to a new day And never know I felt this way I feel the need to explain But I reject my need to make you see it

I have been insulted By myself I have no response For everything I say Is true Direction I am climbing I am scaling I am making my way up the ladder I have a long way to go

My mother didn’t tell me this Days like this She saved it for another She didn’t believe in this when I needed it I got the empty hand The open hand She might as well have slapped me for all the damage she has done simply from her failure to do anything at all

My father didn’t tell me this Days like this He saved it for another He didn’t believe in this when I needed it I got the empty hand The open hand He might as well have slapped me for all the damage he has done simply from his failure to do anything at all

I am the Downward Spiral The Bird of Prey and this Cyclonic current will burn me to the ground I cannot pause my pace and run the rampant wheel I am Cloaked and seek the shadows with a full-on spotlight I fear the footsteps _____ dread the tread My hair is a wheat field _____ my hands, the wind Is this graven image enough to save me from my crucifixion? I am the Downward Spiral I am Volume II I extend beyond my borders _____ i break my spine I am Fine His words are haunting All words are haunting _____ when you’re haunted I am the Rabbit I am the Falcon I am the vehicle I am my own Destruction I am the Gong _____ perhaps, the xylophone _____ I am not the Walrus I am not the bane of your existence _____ just the bane of mine _____ and yours. I am not the soul nor the shell _____ i am the space between I am not the police nor the criminal _____ but i will be beaten I am, I am not I think, therefore I rot _____ unable t

_____ When shadows dance and burn with a thousand _____ wicked thoughts, you will know half of what I’ve _____ seen, no matter that none of it was real _____ No matter how I feel _____ The knife severed the nerves _____ The God of my Universe has killed me _____ My body broken on the bottom of his endless pit _____ I speak in words that ring red _____ For my head is filled with air but my lungs are _____ filled with blood Someone else’s hand is in my head _____ Blocking the thoughts I’m meant to think I’m seeing colors I have never seen before _____ And cannot name _____ Looking like all the rest But the feeling he has left me with is freezing _____ The functions slow and numb Nothing I feel makes sense _____ And everything I say makes too much But it is not enough Enough of what I’ve seen Too much of what I’ve done Buried with the muddy shovel I’ve left in my trunk The sidewalk ends _____ A wall a cliff The storm rages outside in Build _____ in _____ Crush my throat with

I am the literal literature The scientific hand I have scoured from my flesh the parts that do not matter, and the rest I have dressed and called the improved. I am subtlety With sarcastic trim I am the byproduct of your brilliance I am the cost of removing pesticide and have an optional evil laugh I am stagnant I am I am I am Not a statement of my existence But a mockery of my sentences I am the hammer I am the nail I am crucifixion’s cross I am the Savior

Darkness stills my hand Where once it encouraged it A fog encompasses my mind Confusing my thoughts with reality Questioning my existence As though the world wonders if I am truly here Musical notes echo through caverns in my mind that, once filled, stand empty and dusty, lost to the ravages of time, of the crime of forgetting, victims of a master mind Gunfire and violins push me over the cliff’s edge And as the wind rushes past my face, I close my eyes They have deceived me in the past So I can only hope my other senses will compensate I cannot imagine and create at the same time To be engrossed in a world that would inspire another, but paralyzes my pen My hand is gone My arm is numb By my own words I am stricken dumb A spell upon myself A curse To wander without taking steps Through hallways of death shrouds Through clotheslines of black linen and sunlight as dark as night, forsaken by the moon I wander in trees the size of buildings Cities of pedestrians and foliage Blind an

Why did you build me Broken? On legs I cannot stand Why have you instilled me with Hope? Dream a future that cannot come I have been granted visions of the glory of the universe with no method to reach the stars I have been given desire with no hope of satisfaction My hands quiver with bloody rage as I smell the fear in the wind It is the past that has run ahead of me And I just recall it now Kneeling in a pile of dirty clothes Staring at a bin of garbage while my mother washes dishes I made a pact with you I swore an oath And I’m sorry that I failed But I cannot see when there is no light I cannot breathe when there is not air You do not speak So I know only silence And I feel nothing but the space in my chest The hole where my soul should be My heart merely keeps the beat Pumps the blood It offers no sense of life What agony you have brought to me Selling in the shape of knives Blades that I have plunged into my breast I have slit my throat I have cut my wrists But my blood is too fr

The truth has scattered with the gods The stars have walked away Times howls at me from a distant hill Calling me forth to lands unknown where I am unknown Someone has lifted the music box lid I cannot name the song But I know its tune, echoing off cavern walls The secret route to Hades, beckoning me in Every word written with the secret hope of truth Seeking the black hole beneath the page The road of no return Death in black cat’s form The bad luck ‘cross my path Broken mirrors For I shatter the paper that lies, no matter how reflective No matter how true, glass lies Tapestry woven with deceptive thread Once I hoped But now I know This cannot be true

A thousand broken words A billion disconnected thoughts twisted on a single thread Knitted as the fabric of humanity The pressure of a steam engine The magic of the atom bomb Controlled madness taught to dance The tune forgotten, we unravel into infinity Dropping into depths I cannot stop these words I cannot escape these songs For they are all that exists to explain the thought The moods set to music determined by the moods I’m in The diamond circle Unbreakable Louder to drown the hate Louder to drown the fear Burning like napalm to clear my mind Make me deaf, if you cannot be bothered to speak Take the knife from my head Put it in my back Let me bleed Killed by mediocrity

Everything spins in my head Everything I am Vicious angry swirls Nothing staying long enough To be cataloged To be counted Fleeting moments of delirious happiness Worlds I should be in Things I should create But my hands trembles as I reach Dreams of mine I cannot claim My life’s work just to see clearly But they are fog and greyest smoke Deadly nightshade burning behind the irises of my eyes As though inside is the place I cannot look Though I’ve spent my days locked in my own head Oh bury me with all these sad sad thoughts The embarrassment The shame of the inability to excel at connectivity When a single cohesive vision is all you’ve ever sought To have given up all else Because this is what you wanted While perfectly aware Nothing you’ve started has ever finished Fearing the failure of the neverending Facing the mockery of being good at something that grates in your teeth Facing the mockery that you’re not as good as your eyes told you To see your thoughts on paper To see dis

:raspberry: Brakes suck.

I can't wait till someone comes up with the technology that will type what you're thinking. Because, I have a lot to say but I don't really feel like saying it right now. So, yeah, feeling a little down right now. Adios.

Went and saw "A Dark Knight." Honestly? I'd consider it a near-perfect movie. Will it be one of my favorites? Not sure yet. But definitely incredible, enough so that I think I'm still in shock by how incredible. And Ledger, Best Joker Ever. Really, all the casting, perfect. This movie was so good it makes up for 99% of the problems I had with the first one. (still can't forgive the "can't kill you but don't have to save you" line). So good, I might actually pay the money to go back and see it in IMAX . Just, sweet.

Of all days, I hate this one the most.

I feel tired. And all that that implies.

Just a few of my thoughts on the show, because I had some points I wanted to make. I like the show, but honestly, I'm not terribly attached to any character or episode. I'm not sure I can even name an episode, let alone a favorite one. But on the whole, thinking of it as one un -mini mini-series, I think it's all pretty good. I think the writers have done better at the beginning (when there was no end in sight) and end of the series (when they have a specific place they have to stop). It seems a little lost in the middle. I think it's interesting that no point has been made of the fact that Hera is not the only half- cylon child. Tyrol's kid is too. And with all of Tigh's confusion between Six and his wife, it's made me wonder if maybe his wife was a Six. I mean, Tigh's aged, so maybe he was married to a Six and she aged too. And she wouldn't have been one of the Five because, there were other Sixes. It'd be an interesting point. Although, as

Have you ever seen a face or had an idea that gave you hope only to have it die when your own fears and doubts stab you through the heart? (Rhetorical, because I know the answer is "yes".)

I'm feeling very downtrodden. Well, actually, I was feeling better because I was doing random research on Wikipedia , which always takes my mind off things. But I had made it a point to post and "downtrodden" was the intended topic. Thus, again, I feel downtrodden. But because I was feeling better, I don't feel like talking about it. So " niah ." (me sticking my tongue out in, well, the closest thing is contempt. Well, sort of. Contempt for the idea of moaning about my feelings, and I suppose apathy (as usual) for your opinion on it ("it" being whatever your opinion is on. Doesn't matter, because, well, apathy).). On another note, try iMesh . It's fun. On a related note: Sorry Fitz94, my power went out. Music: "I Kissed A Girl" ~Katy Perry The Klaxons (specifically "Golden Skans ") OneRepublic (specifically "Apologize," either by them or the remix by Timbaland ...if there's a difference, I can't tell.

Wha -ha-ha. Wha -ha-ha. WHA -HA-HA The Cup is Ours. It will Always be Ours. Other teams just keep it warm. We are Hockeytown . We are never bad, just unlucky. Or we've lost to a team having a slightly better season. The Red Wings win the Stanley Cup against the Pittsburgh Penguins (and I like them too). 3-2, Game 6 of the series (4 games to 2) Osgood kicked Ass. Woot .

They say God has a plan for everyone. They say God knows everything: past, present, future. All that was, is, will be. Could be? Does suicide throw off the plan? But wouldn't he have known? Did he plan my life, knowing I would fail, just so he could punish me for failing? Am I an example to others? Or knowing I would not make it, does God have no purpose for me? I cannot feel his purpose. But most often, I cannot feel him. Are they connected? Can I know my course in life without knowing the God that carved the path? Does consciousness exist in others? Am I the only one? Am I supposed to be conscious? Or am I flawed beyond repair? Am I flawed because of Adam? Or was I created this way? Does that make me a mistake? Did God make a mistake? Did God, knowing I would fail, leave out the purpose to my life, thus making the failure the purpose of my life? Can God microwave a burrito so hot that even he can't eat it?

In a land of dark and anguish, I have ruled with a broken heart. Thus, in a broken land, I am unextraordinary When I know I should be. Thanks, to those who are to blame. I confuse dying with hitting "exit" on a computer game. I think it amounts to the same thing. But I fear it's just as permanent. If suicide won't lead me to the gateway to the life I want, then I don't it to lead anywhere. I'm sick of you.

I have nothing to say. I wish I did. But I don't. I have no job to exasperate me. I have no friends to delight me, or annoy me, depending on the situation. No customers to annoy me. The only person I really talk to is my aunt, whom I live with. And we are not friends. And as much as she or I or perhaps both would like it, we are not sisters and will never be that close. I am a burden on her. Her husband and I don't really get along. We have a few common interests but exponetial differences of opinion. I don't know what he thinks of me, but I know it's not good. And for my part, he reminds me of my father. I wish I could say he's nothing like him, but I can't, and I'm sorry for that. But the way he speaks to me, the way he makes me feel: it's very similar. The harshness followed by generousity. It is my father. It is me, as well, I can admit that. I wish I couldn't. But I am what my father made me. I am not cruel, as he was, and neither is my uncle. B

So, obviously, I changed my profile and picture. Well, obvious in a relative sense. And if you scroll down, you'll notice I posted a ton, and I do mean a ton, of poetry (still hate that word though, such bad connotations .). Read it. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. Hopefully it isn't obnoxious. And don't forget to use the ratings bar I stuck at the end of each one. Oh, just a note, by "A Gothic Dream," I mean the architecture and historical period, not the current cultural trend. That might not make any sense, or any difference, but it was my intention. P.S. There's no ratings bar. Music: "Kiss You Off" ~Scissor Sisters "Love Song" ~Sara Bareilles *Farewell Salute*

She opened her mouth and smoke billowed like morning fog, pouring out of every limb, like blood soaked sludge, the floor wet with her disgrace, crimson proof that she was human, filling the air with a sparkling, ebony, star-soaked stream. She did not move, tears showing that she lived while she was wishing she was dead, the spit-upon half-dead, dwelling between the lines of existence, a blurry footnote on the world that despite all her efforts, all her reaches into the darkness on her left and the brightness on her right, never bothered to acknowledge her existence with anything but scorn or neglect, offering not even the joy of both, worthy of only one emotion at a time. It was all in her head. A nightmare that showed her so frail that their pebbles, cast like stones though they weighed so little, broke the crisp husk that she wore, crackling like airy wood hissing in the fire. She could scream at the top of her lungs in a bellow to shake the sky, a thunderous exclamation, an edict of

A Stygian Flight The Welcome Here is wearing out This house is not a home The sanctuary of this invitation is building a wall inside my heart I cannot guarantee that this is progress The faded garden path Flawed architecture As though I should have known earlier As though I should have been able to detect That they were a barrier against me As though all these choices stood before me But the devil spun me ‘round Screamed in my face And a demon changed the backdrop Locked in a cave Till the sunlight distracted me Till the sunlight drew me out Given this moment It was beautiful Golden light and greenery Blue skies that let me go Fresh air tempered by freedom And the perfect peace of mind But then began the whispers Behind my back Directed at my spine Like daggers White hot hate Scalding my skin Boiling my spinal fluid Tapped To run through the veins To eat at the heart of all I am To inspire decay through the grey matter A poisoned root Has wrapped around my bones Drilling through and ea

They Tell Me I Told Them So. I was a child. Once. I thought things I thought should never be I misunderstand the organic nature of my personal depravity The world is rippling in front of me When I close my eyes I see the waves The world is tearing apart I sway when seated and drift when stand My mind is anchored but just in sand I am not news-worthy I am losing myself here too A heart of darkness opened to civilization I am the monarch of a lonely lost tribe. I am the only one And even among my own, I am a distance I try to weep But it is a dry heave I cannot name the emotion that builds behind my eyes But I do not have the tears to push it out. Pain is a knife in my back. Stuck. Forced to be nice Forced to feel concern I look at simple objects and feel miles away. I stand on rims and my mind slips over edges Backward to dream, drift out of location Forward to embrace oblivion I used to think that all it would take is the Perfect But now I am torn Depression says they won’t exist Insan

Primordial I am the middle ground I desire neither hot nor cold Tepid greets me best Neither wrath nor joy, I cannot hate I cannot love I am not black I am not white I would be grey But I lack the skill to choose one thing This nor that Here nor there I am not anywhere I am everything that is nothing Surrounded by choices I cannot accept When moving I do not think When thinking I cannot move I am myself only when I stop to remind myself that I have made choices before But those times are rare Hidden by the choice to make no choice To walk the tight, taunt rope I am not left I am not right I am not gone But neither am I still here Stagnant and brewing Salt water The source of life And it’s destruction But what? A future A past I cannot go I cannot stay I cannot express But the bottle is already full I cannot cause myself pain But yet I remain, living in it Hypocrisy There and back again I cannot finish what I’ve started It is a wonder that I’ve started So slow to move Seeking silence in

Infernal The bandits raided Demons who stole my heart I am left vacant A showpiece For all the things not to be I am Titania Attended I am a Wicker Deity Erected Burned And failing to take notice I have not danced naked in the summer rain But my mind is free I will ascend Rising through spheres Divine nations The future I have seen Striving for connections because they are all I have The value of them lost to the horizon A black hole event Swallowed hearts Sitting in my throat The foam at my mouth Made of words I cannot say The shotgun would do it If only you had the heart Demons stole it Pulled it through The slices in my veins And I found myself the better for it More able to endure Demons stole it Demons stole it This thing that didn’t work This thing of hate and wretched sin This thing to stoke a fire Venom And the snapping scorpion tail It is only poisonous if the barb pierces your flesh and pumps you full Tiny little molecules that fly to central organs Screaming and shutting dow

Version Aversion I fear this circular device How will it change me? Between activity and depression I am dead Fronts of heat Fronts of chilling, chilling storms Converging Collisions Mixing and winding about to create this thing I am Synchronicity I fear this circular device How will it change me? Will an alternative be formed? A distinctly separate individual that I am cannot recognize Incapable because I cannot comprehend this new lifeform? Or incapable because I have ceased to exist? Would this person match that person? Would they be capable of these words? Would they be recognized or dismissed as peculiar musings that no longer fit? Could I swallow it every day This change An unacceptable motor function A shattering experience To create new life Would the creation be better accepted than the creator? Would only resemblance remain? A semblance Would I give myself a funeral If I could see my own death Would the offspring give the eulogy If it were capable of speech Would you like the

Amphibian I have Changed I have Become something new There are things you’ve failed to recognize For which, the blame rests with you But there are things which I have hidden To protect myself Not from you But from other influences Those are not your fault I am adaptive Highly so I sigh And say very well And acquiesce Because it is easier than changing your mind I often choose what’s easier I am seeking an environment where I fit But I do not wish to muddy the waters where I am As such, where becomes what And I lose the criteria I am drowning I forget to breathe I am holding my breath I exist because other people imagine me What they wish, I will become The great and powerful Djinn The great trickery of your existence is held within my hands

Burning Fueled by this dry, gasoline ache When I cut my skin It hurts But I don’t bleed My head tells me to stop My brain denies what my heart seems to need My jaw hurts And sits unset It remains one of the things I’ve said nothing about And yes, I have an excuse. But no one really cares Move Push Please Please wake up Please go to sleep Please pass away as it passes you by. Thoughts will not form in my head My pen lies still And rests though it has lost no strength With nothing to regain There is activity around me But I take no part I seek not to stir And remain silent Unquestioned My mind is awake My foot sleeps And neither seeks a purpose There is numbness That creeps up my leg And crawls down my spine I am voiceless I have nothing to say I seek solitude when surrounded And when alone I wish you would seek me out I have worlds waiting for me Unfinished Unpolished Filled with the half-born Waiting for my focus When I have none to bring to bear I wish to exist always With pen and pap

The Failure has entered a new realm A place of many people she cannot compete against Joy has nagged her to be this thing _____ She must refuse Attempts are made for a time But The Failure gives no reaction And soon the people leave Replaced by the small mutterings of inspiration They speak words The Failure can understand But without tongues, Their voices are lost The Failure must stand on her own _____ It seems unlikely She is restless for her life to begin But The Failure fears her Story is being told in another place Oh, The Story is supposed to say so much To guide The Failure To be a beacon But perhaps in wishing it to be so many things The Failure has missed what it is The Failure stands upon the staircase No one says her name She descends deeper than the steps allow The Failure is greeted politely when she forces the introduction But soon enough they leave her side Her ability to slip unnoticed is remarkable Though no one will When The Failure seeks attention she fails And when

I am the Queen of destruction The Queen of Ice And I revel in my seven sins My Throne is my Sloth And I slump forever in it The Mirror is my Vanity For I am haughty beyond measure The Crown is my Lust For I know you crave it The Window is my Envy For I do not have what I could The Apple is my Greed For I will always want another The Mouth is my Wrath For I will always speak my displeasure The Coin is my Gluttony For I have many more than I need But I do not care She is the Queen of Ice And her Kingdom is a Broken Mind A Story. A peasant came to see her _____ wrapped in burlap skin On a chain behind him, he brought a lion _____ scrawny and ragged with all-consuming hunger The queen stared from a crystal throne, _____ basking in the light of satisfaction The sight held no interest for her _____ And she turned the coin in her hand _____ Making eyes out the corner of her vision _____ Flirting with her own reflection The man speaks _____ In his ragged beggar’s tongue She cranes her head __