Dying Flame

I want to give up. I don’t think I can talk about this anymore because it makes me sick. So I won’t say a word about these thoughts until I’m ready to do something about them. And I doubt that’s ever again going to mean therapy or medication.

I’m alone when I shouldn’t be. I’ve made all the friends I’ll ever make and they’ve all gone now and I’m incapable of making new ones…lol. People don’t stick around when it gets rough anyway, so screw them all. I don’t want to hear about others and all their friends anymore. At least they have people who aren’t family willing to put up with their existence. We all can’t be that fortunate.

Would rather just not be here to see another face. I got what I wanted. I feel apart. All there’s left now is to dissolve completely.

Conclude

The heat is moved
A village-taken out
You see how well things never work?
How weak we are in doubt?

We’re no safer in the light
Than when in dark and blind
The wrong will always cheat to win
Just wait, give it some time

You see, they let her climb this tree
They let her drop that rope
They’ll hold me here for years and years
Until I’m who lets go

 

Btw, I can’t stop listening to “Paper Planes” from M.I.A. I finally bought the album last weekend and I’m loving the music. Oh, “World Town” is another one, has a sick beat…

With Feeling

I have some new pieces of writing I’m actually excited about. I wish I could feel like this all the time, where ideas feel closer at hand and it’s not as if I’m stuck or empty of thoughts and creativity. Anyway, the first short poem below is about the disappointment I’ve felt I am to my mother…

 

You didn’t know.
I buried my wings long ago.

Your unexpected,
Over blessed baby girl

You should have let me die
I’m not getting this thing right

Now pieces of a painful break
These days shrinking my lungs

Sameness always in front
My cheaply glues illusion

All I owe bleeds the night to
One guilt imposing sun rise

I’m sorry when you hug me
I am numb from skin to soul

All these years have never been.
And I’ve nothing to show.

 

The second one here probably explains itself, being more about the way others close to you tend to brush aside what they see and hear and not take it seriously when they probably should. And about how what they do finally realize about you messing up their world, you becoming their new frustration…But even that interpretation comes weeks after I actually finished it, so take it however you want.

For the Truth

I don’t regret this
Broken stare, and
I won’t forget,
I taste them tearing open

Appalled at my whole life
Those feel of words that flash across your eye
They say to think I’m wrong is right
But still you want into my mind

Yet you’re so scared to see
The changing shades within the haze
You still cannot believe just how
Sick my world is leaning

And as any other fool, not knowing what they do
My darkened presence you’ve excused as weightless
Consuming so few; a spell of common sorrow
—don’t we all go through?

With my fresh wounds
Bright above their blue
Be free and hate me
Better for the truth

 

I’ve finally found the piano solo version of Breathe No More by Evanescence. Click on it below, turn your speakers up and forget the visuals, just listen to how beautiful this song is and tell me I’m not crazy for being such a fan….lol.

 

Language of the Light

I’m coasting along. Incredibly empty. I haven’t gotten sleep. No one’s listening to me.

Puts me back into my past, in school, with a mind right in between snapping on everyone around me or running away somewhere expecting death to meet me at whichever direction.

People talk a lot and wish and pray, but it never feels real when it actually happens. When what you’ve been asking for happens….No body is going to be after me or hoping for me and my future if I’m not.

Whatever…

My brother’s idiot behavior got his car stolen last night…As my mother says, that’s “life in the big city…”

I hate the players and I hate the game. There’s people actually believing the 2012 hype and all I can say is it seems too good to be true. The end of the world, so soon? Yeah, too good–that’s how you know it’s not going to happen…lol.

But I do still hope I’m wrong.

How Long Ago

Run the music, run the words
Calculate my end
My simple complication
Just as silent, just as dead

To live with scattered memory
And bring nothing to close
Fragrant of both failure and loss
To live sorry, to grieve their cost

There are many among us
I am one to get rid of,
When all is cold and without hope
To talk me away from

I’ve seen the limbs, I’ve passed the bridge
I dream the cliffs of high
And no one asks that I save myself
How long ago I’ve died

 

It just gets worse.

On the Other side

Pieces of voice and vision
I’m a decorated lie
Shut me out forever
I am the other side

Its see through skin is so cheap
Of hollow promise and belief
Nothing about this keeps me
They are never as alone,

It’s not worth my questions and
Never worth the pain
But I still hurt and hold you high
And bleed you all the same

While dreaming bits of a third eye
From window’s veil of dying light
This going glow- as each scar line
Is softly swept aside

When the art suffers and there are no words to express, or even thoughts/feelings to need words to express…I think I’m done. I don’t want words or paint because I’m useless to them. I don’t know what to do with these things anymore. I’ve done all I can do. It’s all trash, from here on.

It never existed….

To Sunset

A painting for my mother…

Went to a volunteer interview today. I’m actually very excited about the department I’ll be assigned (hopefully) a position. The collection and research part of this massive and extremely impressive museum in my city. It’s the perfect distraction from the nowhere my life is going and I’ll learn some new skills about something I’m interested in. Anyway, I won’t speak about everything else that’s been going on for fear of it falling apart before it even gets started….I’m trying to keep myself balanced. Don’t get too high on hope and don’t sink all the way just yet. And for that, I’m ready for whatever happens. If the door opens I’m going through it no matter what, and if not–well I’ve got a good fix for that too.

Birthdays….

Are Horrible. Even more so when people, family, have forgotten. But that wouldn’t matter so much if I weren’t around to know it. I just need to be put somewhere.

Get rid of this pain
Put my faith into something

Maybe these pills,
Then I’ll be alright

Or this knife;
Maybe then I’ll sleep tonight

Within this lonely place
I’ve been still with every lie

And as I sleep in dark escape
I’ll wake ready to die.

The Heart

This is something I painted a few weeks ago. I think it goes with this poem alright enough. It’s also the image I have as my blog header.

To Pieces

Soaked by the falling rain
The bottom of a shoe
Always in my face

The live body
The prison cell
Each heartbeat marks
The bars of hell

Release this fury –trace with knife
Along my throat, along my thigh
Those precious blood ways I outline
Tomorrow at the back of mind

Pull my arms and legs apart,
Peel away my veins
Nowhere am I beautiful
My bruised dead face

I dream the open window
My several stories high
I’ve opened everything up
I’ve eaten all my insides

I’m licking at each bone
I bite to pieces,
Here alone

I really don’t have much to say anymore about my life. I don’t see past a year from now. This doesn’t change. I think I’m going to give up looking for a job right now as I don’t even understand how I’m able to function during the day. There’s nothing keeping me together and to be honest I’m having brief moments where I’m all about the details in how to get rid of myself, they’re getting into my dreams again. Things are just so messed up. I should be seeing the good I’ve been given and try to make something of myself, but I can’t get past just not being able to care, just not wanting to be here in the first place. And I feel I’d be doing everyone a favor if I killed myself–sooner rather than later.

But you know already. It’s my same tired story

Quiet In the Dark

This is the painting I finished a week ago. I wanted to show something about what I hold onto. Everything that hurts basically. And like in the one before this, the person represents one greater than what I am now. What I could be, except in this one she’s with dark around the eyes and a black shape for a mouth representing silence. I didn’t plan this painting out too well, but I think that’s why I liked working on it so much. Even though I didn’t know where I was going with it, I worked in detail, so at least I can feel good about that.

I’ve written more than I have in months from my computer being out so many days. I’ll have some of that up soon hopefully. I’m trying my best not to fall apart as I look back on this past year, my birthday being around the corner and all. I didn’t want the circumstances to be the same, but I have not done enough on my part to deserve a change. And another years is just hard to think about right now.

Without

This is a painting I finished a month ago. It’s taken me that long to really understand what I even created, but I think I know now. This is a figure I take as representing the person I could be being taken down. Attacked, blinded by darkness, without arms representing a lack of control, and the white shape of the mouth represents how the words being spoken are always lost to the surrounding noise and confusion (explaining the white, red, sharp background). Otherwise, it’s just a weird and slightly creepy picture that really has nothing more to offer. I don’t know why I spend time painting anymore really. I don’t do it for money or for people to like me. But maybe it’s so that I can feel I have something to call my own right now. As useless and undeserving as I feel, that’s all I can say.

I wrote something to go along with this that I’ll post later, if I can get my computer to act right for once.

From the Rain

Based on another little sketch.

I don’t have much to say really. I’m doing okay. Drawing on my last piece of ply wood is taking up good time, distraction and all that. Oh, and I’ve had another chance to finish recording a song I wrote. With the way my house is, it’s hard to get time where its totally quiet. My recorder picks up everything.

This poem doesn’t have a title yet. I’m still writing a lot, I’m just going slow with editing. It’s like I write then throw it somewhere and have it sit for days, anyway…

The last I wished them goodnight
I’d been writing my goodbye

But somehow the lamp was thrown
And broke into its pieces

Nothing else is life except
Our grief in empty reasons

You are my only friend
Your hands stay tight around my neck

Kill me, I’ve been begging you
And you’re trying your best

Real beyond my trepidation
You have my grave here in this dark

In your soul, your airlessness
At the end of all my lives