Highway thoughts

Driving down the everlasting climb of highway 89, chillum in hand, radio blasting. god i love cruise control. The song playing almost too loudly, but just loud enough, busts into my skull and sends tingles down my spine into my toes. A song almost too amazing to be real, it feels better then being in love. There's a car musical and the cars in front of me weave gracefully between lanes leaving me a clean clear path to cruise down. thank you guys. thinking about too many words to think about. things in the past, present, future. Its always been hard to wake up in the morning. Countless nights having to sneak in and turn off my mom's television because she's passed out with it on. Laying in a perfectly quiet house, hearing sounds of glasses clinking, people laughing, music playing, and too many fake smiles that you can just feel them w/out actually seeing them. I thought i was alone, but i find myself wanting to shout out "SHUT UP!" But who would i be talking to?

~2005

Night Shadows

Just when I think I couldn't be more relaxed, sleep envelopes me. Then out of the darkness a shadow of warmth emerges bringing me a loving embrace. Suddenly I'm fighting sleep just to lay awake with him so close and so comforting. I cherish this moment. Tomorrow I will trade in my morning shower for more time in bed. More time to think about the dream of this stranger. This one stranger that can make me feel so content and so loved. Why must it always be a shadow in the night, never have a face or a pulse. But he feels so real next to me. So tangible. Nobody this real can make me feel so loved. So strange. So wonderful. So unreal.

~2005

Simon Says.

There's so many things to write about until there is a blank page in front of my fact then suddenly my mind draws a blank. Go figure. Trippin on a weeknight is fine; just don't forget your chores. Smoke your drugs and build your talents. Frantically running around the house trying to create another masterpiece. Make sure you study for your dreams. "Simon Says" never sat well with me. Reflected images of what's behind me popping up all over the place. Try to look away but it’s in your mind so you can't escape it. Stop. Check to see if you can still remember how to count, but don't disturb the artist.

~2005

It will never stop.

Why do we really care what we do with our time? Everywhere you go you are going to get bored. You will never stop getting bored. You will never stop feeling hungry or tired or sad. It doesn't matter how many times you try to fill these voided feelings with food and sleep and parties and drugs. They will always come back. You will constantly be asking yourself if you are doing the right thing, or what it is that you should actually be doing. You will always question what you are not supposed to be doing. Is this one of those things? You will always feel restless and yet unmotivated. You cannot ever escape anxiety or irritation. You will always need to cry and some point and to someone. Someone who is wondering when you will stop crying. You will always feel fear. Always fear the unknown. Time will always be right there... staring you down, and laughing. Laughing because you're either wishing it would stay, or just go away. Laughing because you have absolutely no control over it. You have no control over the way you feel. You have no control. Over anything.

But you will always have a chance to laugh. And if you open yourself up enough, you may even fall in love. Regardless of whether or not love is real or lasts, it can make you cheerful for at least a little while. Something will most always come along to make you feel happy; again. And kittens will always be cute.

~2005

YAY

The heart starts pounding as the toes dig deep into the carpet below. Faces chatting with other faces, mouths won't stop working. Eyes darting around the room not really focusing on anything, but just skimming over the crowd. Walking from group to group in a high-paced manner like you can never get anywhere fast enough or get anything done quick enough. Nonsensively chatting about whatever mindless subject pops into your powder burnt skull. Limbs all twitching as if being probed by a taser. The click click clicking of teeth against other teeth. Many teeth clicking on many other teeth. I love this song. I no longer know what to do with myself so i will roam around once more. Not really sure if i can handle much more of this i'm moving around and speaking around so much i just... ... what was that? the bathroom? I'll meet you there.

~2004

Passion

My only passion is writing. But how can you become a writer when you don't even like your own stuff? Always wanting someone to ask "what are you writing". Constantly wanting to share my whiney thoughts. My wine. Always walking fast to look busy, walking with a purpose. They say its the spectator who see's most of the game-- well if thats so, then he needs to get down here and tell me how the fuck i'm supposed to play. We are all animals, all of us trying to prove that we are the better breed. We are all programmed to want sex. So we have it plentifully. Creatures of nature, we can't help but react to our natural instincts instantly... which are almost all the time, wrong. All people can ever talk about is life. Their life. When will we conquer the last 90% of our brains. How frusterating it must be for those of us who do use more of our brains. No wonder they say Einstein was such as asshole. Constantly surrounded by people 10% dumber than him. People who used the word "dumber". If only we could get control of our brain and figure out how to really use it, get a manual. Then maybe we could control our emotions and feelings and no longer be prisoners of our own anger and sadness! Oh glorious day.
Dated sometime in 2004

Bear In A Cave

Becoming way to dependent on my friends for company. trying to get comfortable with the thought of just being by myself. Ironically the day i decide i wish i could just disappear and be ignored by all, trapped in my own thoughts in my mixed up head; my cell phone dies. My only connection to the world. Like i memorized anyones numbers. Now i just need to move. Move into my cave. Then of course, my cell phone turns back on. Living in my lonely cave for the winter, i'll call it hibernation. Always workin. Workin and wishin. Please come with me. I suppose i'll just take the people in my head, and maybe the people on the tv will come too. Signs of Schitzophrenia showing up everywhere. People laughing and talking, music-- music that drowns out all noise around me, leaving me with a soundtrack to my day. Listening to the air and the music and the timer just keeps going. Let's go to a place where kittens grant wishes; just throw your keys anywhere. Not being forced into bed everynight left counting down the 5 days when i will have 48 hours just to waste. Just to get wasted.

Dated sometime in 2004