Filed under: Narrations
For anyone who may care, sorry about the lack of updates of late. Life has been the usual rollercoaster ride, thoughts were numb for awhile, and while I’m admittedly nobody important, didn’t want to waste extra emotional effort on all the bullshit going on.
Anyway, I do have a few lyrical and poetry stuff scrawled on my notepad, but I’d like to try and make music out of them. Being an amateur and a horrible newb, it’s taking awhile :p But hey, gotta start somewhere if you wanna get anywhere at all. And so, I’m determined to at least complete these pieces together with a few friends, instead of merely dividing them into stanzas and saying ‘this should be verse 1′ :p Ear-aches to come, hopefully sooner than later ;) Thanks for reading.
Filed under: Narrations
Just got back from an awesome two weeks in Nepal with Karen…met a lot of interesting people from all over, did and saw a couple interesting things…unfortunately didn’t write there as much as I wanted to but that’s okay. Various updates to follow soon!
I’m falling….falling..falling fast. In that fleeting second it takes for my head to hit my pillow, she has already whispered many thoughts to me. She bends over and sidles close to my ear, I can hear her from inside; ‘Have you had enough fun? It’s time to get back inside your head.’ I picture her taking my hand, telling me it’s time to go home. She closes the door, so no one can hear what happens inside. My eyes are wide open.
God I hate this place. It’s just so noisy in here. I need the silence of the crowd, I need the quiet of your voice, I need something else, anything else but me. My breath quickens, taking in the humid night air, tasting its emptiness. I beg it not to leave me alone. I swear I’ll kill to rid these voices inside.
The metal edge of a knife glistens, stainless steel so smooth that the blood on it rolls down sensuously. The meandering crimson trail it leaves behind tells a definite story about murder. My face is straight, but my heart beats with the anticipation of a madman; Just like every other day.
My eyes flick from space to space at an inhuman rate. I am hunting for the source of discontent, wanting to silence it quickly. But everywhere I turn, I see only reflections of me. Hundreds, ten thousands of me. I try to find the one who brought me back here, but she is hiding behind every mirror image of me, and I can’t get to her. Now it’s just me, all alone in my house.
*Read in something like a Frank Miller movie narration style. About dealing with yourself.
The writing’s on the wall,
But the wall is cracked.
The words bleed through,
Is that good or bad?
*Is failure now set in stone, or is it dispersing?
She gave me her address;
It was page 11 on Vogue.
He gave me his number;
It was layer 21 in photoshop.
I can’t afford such luxury,
So I just live with myself.
*While talking to my friend Brian..We were saying good looking people mostly live on the pages of magazines, and under the shadows of photoshop.
Filed under: Narrations, Poetry: Thoughts | Tags: Poetry, Thoughts, Writing
The word ’should’ should not exist.
The word ’should’ does not exist.
There is no should or should not. Only do, doing, did, done.
I have plenty of sanity up for trade. Pain is not an issue. I want what you have to offer, and I’ll risk it all to know.
If that’s not enough, I have my body and soul in reserve, and I’ll add them to the gamble.
Give me what I want, and I’ll pay you in full; I promise not to regret.
*My friend Karen was asking me what this was about, so I think I’ll jot it down here as well. I have this bad habit of making things human – from objects to thoughts to emotions. In this case, it will be my dreams I have personified and am gunning for/bargaining with, regardless of what it costs me.
Filed under: Narrations, Poetry: Depressing, Poetry: Thoughts | Tags: Poetry, Thoughts
Six thirty p.m.
That’s when I start to feel awful.
I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s the end of the day,
And that means thanks for trying,
But your time has run out.
Filed under: Narrations, Poetry: Depressing, Poetry: Thoughts | Tags: Poetry, Thoughts
I am patient with people,
But impatient with myself.
Forgiving towards others,
Unforgiving towards myself.
Expect nothing from you,
Expect too much from myself.
I say that hope is not to be believed,
So am I now pointing the gun at you?
But maybe somewhere in that harshness,
I’ve reversed the gun upon myself.
