did you really just ask me to see a shrink?
08/13/2009 07:44 p.m.
The one emotion that rides the every fiber of my being doesn't limit my mind from trying to smile or forging friction 'caused by kissing the forehead with honesty. Just because someone is depressed doesn't mean they want to be any other way. If you don't believe the theory put it to trial. Find The make up in a cynic that lies within realism and the innability to imagine a world of Infinate limitlessness. when The full moon rises it pulls on the water that we are mostly made of but we don't have to be more interestingly affected by it than the tides. Maybe we will all just pull back and forth manically, but if you give us a pill to change who we are it sends the message that no one likes our thoughts ideals and our ultimate id. Fuck what you think, and realise that you're stupid. realise that we're all stupid but if we put our heads together only a small few of us will be able to disquinguish the true right from wrong that is in each individuals feelings urges and morals. Satanism makes sense, and if the world ends in 2012 I don't want myself to walk as a drown Smiling when The harsh realities of the crumbling shit framed houses fall around me sending me to where I would never want to go without A false sense of placibo-based sanity in a bottle. Somethings should be embraced, rather than feared for no reason and once we realise this therapy will be looked at for it's true narrow minded second rate racist-like tendency that it posesses.

Comments (0)

My note
06/26/2009 01:55 a.m.
I must disclaim that my writings are not those primarily of black and white love it or hate it, simply a beautiful tribute to the variety of the world. I try not to jump around like a headless chicken on a trampoline but I simply have to give thanks for all of the variety before my eyes just when looking at this world as without it everything would be unbearably bland or perhaps lackluster. So you can call me a morbid SOB or you may refer to me as a modern explorer of the darker and more interesting side of existence as a vast whole.
When people age there seems to be a natural process involving a gaining of the inability to appreciate anything for its entire worth. As children we are a lot more likely to enjoy things that are viewed, by adults, as simply trivial or even farfetched. When I was a child I was given a bee be gone for Christmas. I shot lizards like a trained sniper off of my fence, and buried them in what I called the lizard cemetery. In my mind I was a hero of a soldier who would destroy the evil lizards before they could harm my allied ants. This was very real to me. As a man I feel that the cemetery is the most interesting part of that small antidote because it is full of mystery. No one knows what will happen after death and that is why I write a lot of my poetry to lead up to death because from there the reader can fill in their own theories or belief’s.
As with the love/hate criticism that I have received I simply say that trying to label even emotions is truly impossible. My writings may have a bipolar-type of theme to them, when looked at by a psychiatrist, however to those seeking art and beauty that is what they will receive.
My only hope is that my writings will bring positive feelings into the hearts of the reader, and nothing more.


Comments (0)

I don't even know...
03/20/2009 10:12 a.m.
so I'm up all night writting. This sucks. THis sucks so badly. I am so tired but I can't stop. it's like an addiction. I know my stuff is really bad too. I just can't stop it. I don't really care what people think I just write because it feels good. this journal entry is dumb. ugh, one of these nights... I'll get some sleep.
I am currently Giddy
I am listening to tiny cities made of ashes

Comments (0)

I've got polar opposites on the brain
03/18/2009 04:43 a.m.
And the frustration is nearly unbearable.
I am currently Frustrated

Comments (0)

Insomnia
03/15/2009 07:59 a.m.
it's 2:13 am in hell and I'm hanging on to a distant dream the likely hood forgoten in a flash of a tear speckled notebook. why does the mind race like the lackluster zombie on speed?
I am currently Exhausted

Comments (1)

tragically about the author
03/15/2009 07:55 a.m.
I’ve never been able to explain the fear that makes me wake up from a terrifying dream twitching violently and screaming in something that sounds like some forged tongue language out of a Georgian church. Never, have I been able to communicate The painful void in my heart that keeps caving in with the sands of surrounding doubt until the emptiness becomes an antidote for those who hate the saying “ignorance is bliss”. And I have undoubtedly never communicated the feelings inside that make me stare blankly at a person’s lower lip while they try to explain their day. It all felt tragically insignificant to me. I know now that I was distracted my whole life trying to fill the gaps in my memory with a sequence of events that made some kind of chronological and simply logical sense. I know now that the answer to my uncountable racing thoughts per second, words, images, and blurry question marks, could all be explained so easily as it rolled off the lips of my father. A smacking sound that came out on the top of my head. I know this now and I’m writing in hopes to remember the sound of forgiveness. The problem however was that I never mocked the sound.
I am currently Detached
I am listening to "vindicated"

Comments (1)

Previous 10 Entries