fuck

alone, overwhelming, veiled, stuck in a glass bubble where the world is distorted feeling is consuming me and I'm not sure what to do about. With every step, someone's yanking the rug out from under me and I don't know if I can regain my balance this time. I just want to crawl in bed and stay there for months. but only if there is something sharp in reach. oh, not again, and again and again. but it is the only thing that gets me through. better than the alternative, right? I'm going to shatter into a million pieces next time I get shaken. and i feel like i am all alone in this. and i deserve that. i'm breaking. composure gone. I'm done.

i tried. i really did.

i can hear the sound sadtrack mind in my play
its not loud enough. it sounds red but not red enough. can you hear it?
no you can't. turn me to ice so i can feel nothing just like you. shovel the dirt to fill this hole. shallow emotive please.
moderation is excess somewhere/don't deserve any more than the least that i get\
running but they are passing me. everythings passing me
when nothing is in sight i can't even question
because it was me who did this.

it was a good go, i guess

if i would have known that was going to be your response, i would not have gone there. I rather be suffering silently than to know you feel like its effort to be around me. i would do anything for you and i cant bear the thought or handle the fact i have been a burden on you. preventing someone that i care about tremendously from feeling like that, well, that is the sole reason i normally do this alone. i should have known better and known what would be the result of me reaching out. if it was a choice of me getting help and not getting help, i rather not be getting help if it meant you didnt feel this way.
how do we as humans handle that line. who are we without other people? but in the end as Glen Hansard says

"Cry alone, and die alone
Pray alone, and stay alone
Drown out.. drown out.."

we are alone. anything else is just an illusion to make ourselves feel better. strings are attached, contingencies are implemented. and i am done. i'm back to living this facade, dropping in and out of life, staying far away from everyone. do i really want that? no, but i cant take doing this to anyone ever again. and i cant guarantee that it won't happen again. i won't do that to you.
it was never my intention to do this but it doesnt matter because its already been done.

and in all the hungers...

at times a man growing old
plays with a knife
On its edge
the stars shake pitifully

Perhaps he loves this more
than anything in the world
because it can inflict
severe woulds on time

If he turns the night darker
and the silence deeper
it's because the wind
doesnt like him touching it
and because the earth is afraid
at the power of his feeling

A man growing older
is lost in all the forces
he thinks he knows everything about
and in all the hungers
that have sucked away his tenderness

It gets lonely
when the rain doesn't wet him
Lonlier too
when he can't find his way out
of this hour
where sleep
cannot reach

Memory's thousand shapes
seek him out:
an old letter
from a girl long gone
is a door
into the world of nightmares

Because he is afraid
of what he wants to bring into being

And when the man growing old
plucks a flower
he is surprised
at the little darkness
limping out of the bushes

Shadows pass through him

And on the edge of the knife
the bewildered light
merely appears to frown
at a play of fortune
it doesn't understand.

oh, marty

I think people are funny. You never know what you are going to get. because when you think you know, something really strange happens.

like when my friend Marty turned into a sea lion.

don't get me wrong, i like sea lions. but where did Marty go?
now he just makes funny noises and plays with big balloon balls in the water.

come back Marty. come back.

progressive deterioration

Destructively flourish in the silence that surrounds this madness. grapple with my own validity with thought of something beyond my control. So I count whats right in front of me. And focus on the system I've created. The precise arrangement gives me power. False power. I bow though when everyone claps. Ive played my part. But those times, I could picture myself melting into a thin layer of nothing in front of the crowd. My disguise finally off. But instead of the overflow of emotive reality, my response goes to the ones around me, until I can flee inside austere practices. and then i do disappear

you can try and hide

its funny that we think as we get older we are not privy to the chronic condition of human nature. we build up these walls and go on from there pretending to be this hard creature, unaffected. ardent emotion seems so childish. "i know better than that, i know how to react appropriately to this situation as a product of my experience, age & intelligence" but it doesnt matter where you are-when those unavoidable situations of the universe rip your heart and soul apart, the same emotions will be evoked as if you were 5 years old. now sometimes this vulnerability only occurs with your head in the pillow, or in the arms of a loved one. but sometimes it occurs with acquaintances or strangers. however one may seem, they are not above this raw emotive state. and some may look at it as a regression, and say this response is yielded from youth or inexperience but i think its only a reflection of either not yet becoming dismal of the human race or a reflection of being able to rip down the walls that are built as you age. the pure emotion of a child is so sincere and selfless. they dont know whats 'supposed' to be inside those walls yet.