It seems to be a year for transitions. I've quit my job, and am applying to various schools in the hopes of bettering myself. While adversity may have struck me down in the past, I will strike at myself no longer, and am prepared to attempt a measure of success.
a little voice likes to creep up out from the recess of my gray meats and utter epithets and derision. it spat out a slur; "coward!" it said, "pathetic. weakling!" only lacking the conviction, as it was myself that said it. All these thoughts take shape in the faces of friends or enemies. It's difficult these days to tell the difference when a harsh tone and a cracking whip can be an act of kindness disguised in unpleasantries. Creature I am, and comfort is poison.
maybe just addiction.
On all fronts I am conflicted, and detached. My heart exists in another time frame, lodged somewhere between now and that time when I in my self delusion felt it necessary to sacrifice all for one. I've lost my passion. I've lost my love. I've even lost my sex.
Look how happy I was..... Perhaps not.
My face says more than my feeble words.
Pathetic weakling speaks.
All sighs, and whimpers, and lack, and loss. A collection of cliche's to mask or make up the facade that will define me thus. I am and have always been a fool. Every moment, of every hour, of every thought ticking time, meaningless seconds, just words without backing or value, what is this? value has no place either it just comes into being and slips out again much as everything else in this place. Forgotten! That's the fear, Forgotten! I don't want to die. I am, I was. Remember me, for that is all that shall remain, Remember me for I will not remember myself, in time that which made me, that which was I, that which fired off light and molecular tapestry, tendrils out stretched in mathematical excellence will be dust. Maybe not excellence this time. Maybe the pattern failed this time. Maybe I am the error, and to remember me is to allow into a perfect system the virus of self doubt.
all things in their way, crystalline paths set forth in liquid, shatter. I am the virus, perpetuating entropy. Speeding things along, sluicing off the heat of suns, and the power of lightning, and the friction of air. I lay waste.
Or perhaps it is merely that i am .. too well supplied in spirits...
and thus drunk.
a little voice likes to creep up out from the recess of my gray meats and utter epithets and derision. it spat out a slur; "coward!" it said, "pathetic. weakling!" only lacking the conviction, as it was myself that said it. All these thoughts take shape in the faces of friends or enemies. It's difficult these days to tell the difference when a harsh tone and a cracking whip can be an act of kindness disguised in unpleasantries. Creature I am, and comfort is poison.
maybe just addiction.
On all fronts I am conflicted, and detached. My heart exists in another time frame, lodged somewhere between now and that time when I in my self delusion felt it necessary to sacrifice all for one. I've lost my passion. I've lost my love. I've even lost my sex.
Look how happy I was..... Perhaps not.
My face says more than my feeble words.
Pathetic weakling speaks.
All sighs, and whimpers, and lack, and loss. A collection of cliche's to mask or make up the facade that will define me thus. I am and have always been a fool. Every moment, of every hour, of every thought ticking time, meaningless seconds, just words without backing or value, what is this? value has no place either it just comes into being and slips out again much as everything else in this place. Forgotten! That's the fear, Forgotten! I don't want to die. I am, I was. Remember me, for that is all that shall remain, Remember me for I will not remember myself, in time that which made me, that which was I, that which fired off light and molecular tapestry, tendrils out stretched in mathematical excellence will be dust. Maybe not excellence this time. Maybe the pattern failed this time. Maybe I am the error, and to remember me is to allow into a perfect system the virus of self doubt.
all things in their way, crystalline paths set forth in liquid, shatter. I am the virus, perpetuating entropy. Speeding things along, sluicing off the heat of suns, and the power of lightning, and the friction of air. I lay waste.
Or perhaps it is merely that i am .. too well supplied in spirits...
and thus drunk.
You'll be peaking again soon enough.