Broken Thoughts

I wrote the novel
Now I just have to write the story
If you stop to think about it
I know you’d never do it
The meaning loses effort
As soon as we stop to realize
What it means

What am I doing here?
Wasting time in between the lines

I could run but what does that say about me
What do I care about what people think
Human nature, self-conscious, maybe

Feel as though I don’t matter
Because I don’t
How long does it take to build trust
Don’t know
Lost in my head with a shitty name
Lost in thought but who could tell
Working out the problems is taking too long
Saving up for nothing, can I ask a favor
If I give you the lighter fluid
Do you think that you could provide the light
Didn’t think so but it’s okay
Seems as though only ones prepared
Is the enemy
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Multitasking right now… but you didn’t know that… well, you do now… for some reason WordPress wants all my text to be in grey… not that I don’t feel that way at times… but I want the text to be black… annoying… but considering I don’t have to write the script… maintain some shit… or do anything beyond highlight and change it back… I guess I can’t complain… turns out I just did… maybe grey is the way to go today… 

Broken Thoughts

Living out the eulogy, the funeral has been
Happening for years
Knew you were right when I said you weren’t
Known I’ve felt the same, but I didn’t want too
A lie from
Day one, yesterday, today
I don’t know anymore
Too late to turn any of this around
A long time coming
Long time spent looking the other way
I love you
Each word stings and it feels like this
Is how it is meant to be

Searching for myself and my lost identity
Who have I become if I don’t know myself
A man born into no sleep, an asshole baptized in fire
Where will life go from here
Where are we know if we are nowhere at all
Trapped between my own prisons
Locked away to figure it all out
But I don’t know anything beyond what I’m told
How am I supposed to know
If even I don’t know
Silenced by the thoughts of wrong and right
Torn between what I want and what I need
Two things that will never be the same
Searching for something that has meaning
Through a life of no importance beyond me and you
A man born into suffering, an asshole left rotting
Inside out and ass backward
Which way is straight away from here
Which direction is anything with no directions at all

Digging up the past
Fresh ideas to bury with the rest
Hollowed out bodies, turn to leather
Intersecting midsection, torn apart
Half eaten entrails
Yes, I already know I’m going to hell
Lying upon a heap of burning bodies
There will be no rest for my immortal soul
So, the story goes
I no longer have fears
Dissected, inflicted, sacrificed
God made me and the Devil too
Who should I blame, If I can’t blame you

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Post Script of the Unimaginative

I can see her crying. Tears stream down her face like open rivers with no place to go. She is but a stranger in a sea of them. She is different. She stands out as her tears fall to the ground. No one pauses to help her. A glance and they keep on going. Beyond my very own observation, I am no better. I don’t care. We are all dying inside. One step from our tears joining together.

Her tears only spell weakness in a world so harsh watching someone die seems to be the real past time. Why should I care about her and her problems? I don’t know her and I don’t really care to get to know her. She keeps on moving and I keep sitting. The world turns even in deep sadness. Judgment past in but an instant. Not enough thoughts in my mind to care anymore.

We all live in our own perfect tragedies. Incentivised by our very own pain. Layer after layer added until it becomes too much to bare. Crushing under the defeat of our own simple emotions. We create so much pain to dwell on. When in reality nothing beyond what is in front of you matters.

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We often overlook true pain even when it is staring us right in the face… It wasn’t my place to ask what was wrong… Maybe I could have helped her?… Maybe she didn’t need my help?… No idea… But it was enough for past me to dwell on as I waited for my bus… 

ThreadlessAmazon… You know while you are waiting… Something to pass the time… 

Felling Sorry For Myself Once Again

Hoarder-home

I’m a collector of many things. Things I like, things I don’t need. Legos, toys, pens, pencils, notebooks, trash, books, thoughts, words, and the list goes on. I don’t do anything with this shit. Stare at it as it mocks me. Stare at it as it reminds me of why I have to what it is I have to do. Remind myself when there is time. There is never any time. I can’t sit still long enough to make time. A million things going on at once and not a damn thing done.

A process I’ve cultivated for no reason at all.  My hands can barely get out the words. Broken and hurting from all the work.  A thousand cases in three days wasn’t enough. A thousand reasons to not give a shit flooding into my mind. What am I here for? Why do I waste my time? I’m here to serve and I do it just fine.

Two days off and all I can think about is work. It doesn’t think about me. So why can’t I stop? None of it matters. Every day I step into this place. None of it matters. If I just said fuck it. They’d hire someone else and move on. Maybe it is time I do the same? Never wanted anything they are offering. The money sure we all need some form of it. Health insurance? I’m there so much the only thing kill me is them or myself.

Could be worse. Could have to hunt and kill my own food. Make my own clothes. Build my own shelter. Invent my own vices. It could be worse. I could have to learn how to live.

For those of you paying attention… I didn’t get to my post 5 Words I like and One That I Hate this month… I have a draft, but it is shit… I was going to post the draft… Release it from my mind… But the story I want to tell is a story I want to tell… So next month… give it some more time… Ran out of time this month… Work is dragging me under once again… hints the post today… If I can’t give you the post I wanted… at least I can give you the excuse… It seems as of late that I am full of them…