obliviousfocus

Only because she seems proud of it do I carry it over.

Inhale my random thoughts
Exhale the smoke of unraveled dreams
Sit with me words channel slowly
Words that smell of peppermint
The dragon slides from our souls penetralia
A swirling dervish of energy
Let its scales sings of creation
As we drink its medicine
Push away the bumbling slip of entropy
The weaver spins the thread of fate
Our breath woven into the fabric of creation

Measurements become superfluous
Voices mix into a silent harmony
Stillness quells wasted motion
The dragon becomes serpent
Asking we stray from the path
Our strength lies in the continuation
Unfolding with each key
It now fears our becoming
The creator loathes the creation
In our eyes we show we are now gods


Last night I got angry. Really angry. Didn't help that I was drunk while I was angry. Just got told I was a whore and I took it wrong. It was meant as a joke and I appologized, but it didn't help that I was still angry. The only kind of whore I have ever been is a word whore. A really sweet and wonderful girl tried to cheer me up and talk me out of it but I was too far gone riding the demon at that point. I just wanted to argue till I vomited blood. I get like that some times and I just cannot be dealt with at all. I just have to leave at those points and go off to be by myself.

Why did I get angry and take offense? I guess its the fact that I like balance. In my life, my actions, my thoughts. I have been so out of balance for so long that I have forgotten what that feeling is like. I have so many friends that it is a beautiful thing. So many good people in my life that I can be thankful for eternity. But I don't have that one. You know that one that helps to create that balance. I just have myself and I've grown used to it. I shut people out and refuse to make connections. I guess I got hurt to much by people to let the walls down.

Sad thing is I want to find that other half and create the balance, but I know that is not how things work. If you seek you shall not find. The eyes become blind to what is around you and you miss that which is in front of you. That is the nature of things and how they always turn out. I must first make amends with who I am as a person and love just myself for myself. Once I do that then things might change. Good/bad its all the cycle we call life. It just is. There is nothing other than the perspective we choose to give to any given situation.

I could sit and hypothesize as to the nature of my sickness all I want but I can never find the true answer. There is no one true answer. Its the make up of all the pieces that fit into the whole. If you pull them apart you have to fix the pieces bit by bit and then reassemble them. A lot of people lack that strength. They just try to repair a piece here a piece there. Some just cover up the walls with a new coat of paint. It all comes back to bite you though in the end. I guess you can run from it all you want but eventually you just have to stare down your demons and knock their dicks in the dirt. Bloodied knuckles are often better than a bloodied soul.

Now does that mean I've fallen down into the spiral again? No. Thing have changed lately and I'm starting to see things differently. You are not my saviour. You are not my answer. I am that and no one else. I've sought my answers and found other questions. But I think I'm catching on as Son Volt always said.

I've been listening to Seether a lot lately. They have a song called plastic man. I have really gotten to the point of where it is a new favorite. From it I formed a story. It is short but gets the point across. I hope you enjoy it.

Cold water stung against his freshly shaved skin. His eyes squinted as he checked for missed places in the mirror. He always seemed to miss pieces. The razor ran upon the small patches that remained before he dropped into the trash next to the sink.
The shower water burned down upon his new skin. It was hotter than he had wanted it to be but served the purpose. Grime and filth flooded off his body. This cleansing had been needed for the longest time.
He shivered as he stepped out into the air. The towel provided him some form of warmth against the chill. His new clothes lay on the toilet. They weren't flashy enough to attract attention he wasn't ready for yet. Simple and functional was what he want at the moment.
Opening the door slowly as not to wake the sleeping body on the bed he exited the bathroom.
"Good. Still asleep."he mumbled staring at the unconscious man.
This was going to be the hard part, deciding what to take with him. He had never done this before. What was the protocol in this case? What do you keep and what do you leave behind. The baggage could weigh him down. Was he supposed to take it with him? He wasn't sure.
The whole room was awash with memories. Good or bad it didn't matter they were memories. He had to take something. He couldn't just take the past and throw it to the fates. There had to be some reminder, something to keep him whole.
Her stone. That is what he would take with him. Rummaging through the drawers quietly he finally came upon it. Small and red with the simple word *love* etched upon it. She had given it to him long ago to remind him. It was the only thing he had left of her anymore. They had parted ways and it was for the best, but she had been right. Never close your heart. That is what she told him. Sticking the stone in his pocket he looked around once more at this room he called home.
Walking over to the prostrate body he learned forward and kissed it on the head.
"I am sorry Charles. I just can't be you anymore. It is time to let go and move on."
He looked down at himself. It was hard to think of leaving what he was for so long. He could stay and just keep living this life. He could just stay and never seek what he mind told him to find. The small moment of doubt passed and he moved towards the door.
The sky was slightly overcast for a summer day. Ironic he thought to himself. Why couldn't it be a sunny day. That would have been at least fitting of the movement.
He walked past the truck he had decided to leave behind. His former self could have all that. It was just baggage and he didnt need it. His feet would carry him till he hitched a ride.