what the hell has been going on?
shit's been weird.
saturday was a repeater, some trashy (and i do mean trashy) girl tried to get me to let her come over and "sleep on my couch"... she was too drunk to drive, had her friend's car... almost EXACTLY like my last experience with a nightmare girl. i dont know this girl, just seen her around. i said no.
"all my friends left me, and i was gonna go with that guy, but i don't trust him."
"so why should i trust you?" i asked.
"you shouldn't. you shouldn't trust anyone."
"and so i don't, and therefore you can't."
she still tried. too bad.
insomnia, mang.
hung out with a tweeker friend a couple of weeks ago for a night, did as the romans, sleep hasn't been right since...
count me outta that scene.
been working every day, but the place just doesn't get to me anymore. sure it goes against everything i believe in, but i won't let it get me down. school is going well... really digging creative writing. we're doing poetry right now.
my first poem:
Far Away Places
Silent and solemn, he appeared, dressed in black,
this sight of my father, the first since hed passed.
With his voice in my thoughts he said Dont worry, son,
its not yet your time, your work is not done.
Climbing to conscious, my eyes cracked aware
and I glimpsed a surreal scene.
I leapt back into darkness and into a prayer
for escape from this frightening dream
where hoses and tubes converged on my brain,
and highways of needles merged into my veins,
the morphine drip sent me floating to space
as restraints on my wrists held me firmly in place.
Into light once again, but all was unchanged
and I cringed in confusion, I could not explain
what occurred on the path, how Id come to this place
or who dealt the blow and stole 10 of my days.
I abandoned the key, locked in moments erased
and tried to make sense, through the opiate haze,
of the stern, cold shade of the sterilized white
that surrounded the crowd of familiar faces,
and the tears of relief that fell at the sight
as I made my return from the far away places.
thats enough for now.
shit's been weird.
saturday was a repeater, some trashy (and i do mean trashy) girl tried to get me to let her come over and "sleep on my couch"... she was too drunk to drive, had her friend's car... almost EXACTLY like my last experience with a nightmare girl. i dont know this girl, just seen her around. i said no.
"all my friends left me, and i was gonna go with that guy, but i don't trust him."
"so why should i trust you?" i asked.
"you shouldn't. you shouldn't trust anyone."
"and so i don't, and therefore you can't."
she still tried. too bad.
insomnia, mang.
hung out with a tweeker friend a couple of weeks ago for a night, did as the romans, sleep hasn't been right since...
count me outta that scene.
been working every day, but the place just doesn't get to me anymore. sure it goes against everything i believe in, but i won't let it get me down. school is going well... really digging creative writing. we're doing poetry right now.
my first poem:
Far Away Places
Silent and solemn, he appeared, dressed in black,
this sight of my father, the first since hed passed.
With his voice in my thoughts he said Dont worry, son,
its not yet your time, your work is not done.
Climbing to conscious, my eyes cracked aware
and I glimpsed a surreal scene.
I leapt back into darkness and into a prayer
for escape from this frightening dream
where hoses and tubes converged on my brain,
and highways of needles merged into my veins,
the morphine drip sent me floating to space
as restraints on my wrists held me firmly in place.
Into light once again, but all was unchanged
and I cringed in confusion, I could not explain
what occurred on the path, how Id come to this place
or who dealt the blow and stole 10 of my days.
I abandoned the key, locked in moments erased
and tried to make sense, through the opiate haze,
of the stern, cold shade of the sterilized white
that surrounded the crowd of familiar faces,
and the tears of relief that fell at the sight
as I made my return from the far away places.
thats enough for now.
I love the poem btw. Good job. I loved creative writing. Also glad that you are abandoning Tweak as it is EVIL.