Everyone's Favorite Subject...(Tuesday, June 19th, 2007)

...other people.

Funny that now that I'm free to do whatever I wish, I see other people as nothing more than expressions of desire, greed, lust, or excessive needs. Can't determine how much of this is being caused by my own sense of elitism or if I'm just now allowing reality to sink it.

I think it's funny how two closely connected people can lose what they have over these expressions. I think it's difficult when lust becomes entwined with intimacy. Problem is, I think many people believe lust negates anything else involved with said intimacy, when in fact lust born of intimacy is the best, most fantastic, true and gentle manifestation of sexual desire on the planet.

I can't help but hate you. Thank you for just being another woman who destroyed a wonderful thing in my life. I hope I don't meet many more of you, but with each encounter I begin to suspect the integrity of people is the most subject to change. I'm not letting you get off easy. You've gotten that too often from others in your life and it's about damn time someone held you accountable.

Not that it will make any difference, since you don't talk. Fuck you.

*Sigh* I'm just rambling on like the troubled graduate I am. :D Don't think that diminishes the intensity of what I'm saying in the slightest.

Where Do Dreams Go When They Die?

...and what happens to the ones that were never born?

One-Way Schizophrenic

It's so hard
to write about crying
when all you can think about
is baby seals dying,

your lyrics are messy
'cause you're making them dressy
instead of admitting
you're writing about crying.

Come out and say it
and then we can talk.
Until you do that
I'll continually balk.

I Am Online and You Can't See Meeee!

I am an anonymous user,
and although you might think me a loser,
remember that I am unlinked,
an island of thought in an Ethernet sink.

Tied to no webpage, nameless and scent-less,
nothing to find me, Face-less and Space-less,
friend-less and careless, blog-press of idleness,
strengthless and stabled by words in the darkness.

I Am Troilus

You know why my room's so clean?
It's 'cause I spend all my time in it.

Not alone in a house - alone in a cube of flat planes.
Six shining surfaces surrounding silver sightlines.

I live in my head, in my attic, and pretend it's full of fun.
No people, no animals, nothing but my dusty personals locked behind the door.

Books and games, some decades old, adorn crusty boxes,
strewn in loose collections 'cross the creaky floor.

A roll of the dice produces pangs of memory, easy and blue, happy and hard.
But the games ended long ago, and I stopped winning when I was five.

Momma used to say, "If music can drag you up and keep you down,
then don' listen to the bad and the sad."

Daddy used to say, "Son, if a woman can make you live, remember she can kill you too,"
like some Frankenstein mad scientist with their finger on the red button.

But I beat them all to the punch years ago.
I know my own punchline, and that ruins the joke:

Wed Queen Mab and fly, like the green fairy, away forever.

Siren Wailing

I hate hearing you laugh.
IT's fake.
HE doesn't want you.
STOP trying so hard.
NOT everything he says is hilarious.
IF it is, you're ruining the joke.
DON'T make humor about puddles and mudbaths.
FUNNY is common.
CHUCKLES are common.
HAVING someone make you laugh is truly rare.
KEEP it that way, and stop messing up the show for everyone else.