Eulogy

There was someone I knew for a short, but long time. Someone who was different, much different than any other person I've ever met. Not because she liked a certain kind of music, nor because she liked art. Not because she liked ice cream and french fries. Even though she did.

She made art out of life, out of luck, out of time.

Unlike myself, she was always running out of time. Running out of life, and never had any luck. And all of that shaped her, and ended up changing me too. She lived, like there was no tomorrow. Because for her, there might not be. Maybe that's only half true, but I'll explain that later on.

I first met Alex through a friend of mine, James. Crazy fellow, always known for breaking rules intelligently. Someone I admired. He'd talked about her like he admired her, and I felt I had to do the same. If James admired anyone, they had to be interesting.

I wasn't wrong.

When she stepped onto the train, I didn't believe it was her. She was dressed as if she was just working on Wall Street.
First words are sometimes a very good judgement of someone's character.

"So, who's this statue James?"

We ended up going to a racing meet that night. I didn't have a car to drive, just tagged along for the adrenaline. When James uncovered Alex's silver BMW Imported Twin Supercharged Silver X5, it was just as astonishing as her initial appearance.

"Re-built it myself."
"I'm impressed, Alex."
"You would be."

I'd driven with James before. A man who knew the limits of his car and his driving. Wrecklessly safe.

I decided I'd ride with Alex. A decision that would change my life.

It was the first time that I've ever had a conversation with someone at 130+ miles per hour, completely calm and regular. The first time that I've heard someone quote Niechtze while listening to a russian piano sonata, with their life coming so close to ending. But not. I grew to know that feeling, to love that feeling. I rode with Alex for at least two more race meets, and each time it was the same. She was able to outwit me in advanced conversation, without losing focus on keeping us from being wrapped around a tree.

It was poetic how she handled herself, how she drove, how she lived. Beautiful poetry. Vivd, deep and meaningful to those lucky enough to witness it.

I watched her stand up to guys that had cars far more powerful and maneuverable than her. And still come out ahead. Why?
Had she lacked the fear that plagues us all? Fear of death? No. That fear was greater in her, than in anyone else I've known.

One night, doing many times over the speed limit in upper New Jersey, she told me.

"I'm dying... Much faster than you. Or at least I hope so. For the first time in my life, I'm actually afraid."
"If you're afraid, then I'm much more afraid. Because you aren't afraid of anything. You're strong though. Much stronger than
anybody I've met. And smart as well. You can't go wrong either way."
"You are so naive sometimes."

It made sense, in an odd way. I didn't realize it at first.

She called me one night, quite late. She said she needed something, and that I should come up to meet her at New Paltz. It was a long drive, but I was willing to do it. Why? I guess it was because I felt urgency in it.

We in a parking lot next to the southbound Interstate. Me, in my beat up 92' Honda. Her in her amazing, new X5.

"Follow. And try and keep up, if you can... And Phil... Watch your back okay?"

That night we raced, and I pushed my car faster than I ever have and ever will again. I far exceeded it's recommended limits, the state's recommended limits, my life's recommended limits. Instead of letting the adrenaline take over my mind, I listened to piano sonatas, and mulled over existentialism.

Our paths intertwined all over that Interstate, flying at incredible speeds. So close to death and yet so alive. Unbelievably alive. Weaving in and out of unsuspecting road warriors, people stuck in monotone.

I was freed from the bounds of being afraid of death. I accepted my life for what it was. I accepted what little time I have, what little time we all have. We continued until I reached my home, almost over two hours.

We stopped in a field on the side of the road. We sat on the hood of her car. She hugged me.

"Thank you, Old friend. I feel like someone finally understands me. All I hear is how sorry everyone is. I wanted to live, that's all. And I have. Thank you for being my companion in that, thank you for risking your life all of those times. Thank you for everything."

I said this to her, and I'll say it again.

"Thank you Alex. Thank you for showing me that living like there is no tomorrow, really is so much better. Really is an amazing feeling. Thank you for not giving up hope, not until the very end. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for this trip, especially. And I'll miss you, deeply old friend."

She had an art out of living, out of savoring coming close, but missing. Savoring the terribly good luck that we all suffer from.

For Alex, never let moments slip away. Live, because you can and she can't.

I'll miss you. We all will.

Until we meet again, old friend.

White

I lie back in your kitchen chair. It creaks from my weight, as I lean onto it's aluminum legs.
The sun is shining through your dusty window. The room is bright with whitewashed walls.
And you glimmer in your white dress. This white world is blinding me, but I remain blissful.
Your eyes reflect the bright light into mine. Destroying my thoughts and erasing my memory,
with pure beauty.

I sit motionless, staring at you as you smile back at me. You love your power over me,
you love my defenselessness. I can't help but love it too... I can't help but love you.
Your long hair moves as you slide open the dingy window. The light intensifies,
until you turn from white to shimmering golden.

Your smooth skin beckons my touch, and I cannot resist the urge. And arise from my chair,
in one swift motion you are in my arms. Our lips dancing to the serenade of the moment.
Something inside me, somewhere tells me that it's okay. The eternal sunshine of my spotless
mind, that's what you are. That's what you'll always be.

Who am I? I don't care. Where am I? I don't care. Why am I here? Even in my deep amnesia
I know. My fingers touch my reason for being here, my lips touch her too. I can't help
but lose myself in you.

"My greatest apologies madam. But who am I?"
"You are mine, and that's all you need to know."

You move out of my embrace, and spin yourself around. Your dress spins up, and so
does your hair. You pause for a moment, and everything begins to spin. In my head,
in my eyes. My world spins around me.

I fall onto your cold white tile floor. My body is deeply numb. You run to me,
and start to scream. But I can't help but smile, and touch your face one last time.

"What is better than love's bliss in death? Surely nothing."

Everything fades to white, and then to black.

"If there is ever an image I want burned into my eyelids, into my timeless memory, the last image I'll ever see, it is of your face. You are too beautiful for words. Too beautiful for me."

deaf

I've always dreamt in silence.

I've always wished the world had a mute button.

Hidden on this universal remote.

But not for the sounds of the crashing ocean,
The sounds of moving cars,
The sounds of trees bristling in the wind,
Nor of animals calling.

Just the voices of all of the people.

I never want to hear my name called again,
Never want to hear the chitter chatter of the worlds inhabitants.
Never want to fucking touch another person.
Or see their emotions dripping off their face.
I know I'll be able to alienate myself when I'm deaf of your sounds.

I'll never have to worry about broken understanding
Never have to hear your voice call out to me again.
Never never never.

I don't want this man I'm attached to,
All I've ever wanted to be,
Was cold and unaffected.

Naked

No One has returned for a guest article.

I've come to an epiphany. I've come to a great realization.
I've found out something I've known all along. I just had
to make it official and real.

The truth is, it's unbelievable how much we toy with our imaginations.
People who understand this are so much better off than people who try
to hide it.

Mostly because, there is only so long you can hold something like that in.
Without showing cracks of what's actually going on in your head.
Open your windows would you? Let some light into that dusty imagination.

Imagine everyone naked, it's much more entertaining on a day to day basis,
and it'll help you feel more comfortable around new people.

Never forget, that we're all sluts and fucks. Even if it's only in our heads.
When has that never counted? Embrace it within reason, and you could never be wrong.

Break down those walls, and shake your butts. Why not after all?
What have you got to lose? A reputation? In the end,
Life's short, and sweet if you know what rocks to look under.

I've spent too much time mulling over my projected image as a person, and not enough time doing things.
Don't make the same mistake.

After all, what have you got to lose if everybody is already naked? ;)

Food for thought I guess.

i guess i've sealed my own fate.

karma has a funny way of coming full circle eventually.

maybe i'm being vain.

i can't help but think i do deserve it.

maybe i've forgotten why.

it'll come to me eventually.

fade from your life

all those sleepless hours,
laying in bed,
have got you no where.

your ideas are all trapped in your head.
with no place to go,
but into tainted oblivion.

take another swig baby,
and let those bad memories
fade from your third eye.

let them flow out,
like blood from a sliced vein,
splashing out onto paper,
leaving deep red stains,

take another swig baby,
maybe they'll finally find their way
to your fingertips.

you think you're made of steel
when you're really made of glass

they can't see you like i do,
they are all trapped in their own metaphor
scratching on the glass of the windows to their heads

wishing somebody would take a peek
or a picture

take another swig baby,
and let those bad memories,
fade from your dreams

fade from your life

games

the world plays games.
it's a little known fact,
but a heavily experienced one.

should you give up hope?
not in the least.
just give up hoping for what you hope for.

hope for that which you will never have,
and obtain what you wanted all along.

maybe i'm crazy,
but lucky too.
lucky to be unlucky.

i enjoy the ironic game i play.
i guess i'm shooting for an impossible score.
or maybe i'll get just what i'm after, after all.

Outlines

I can still see your eyes through the hair in front of your face. The beautiful windows into your mind, that I could lose myself in without even realizing it.
The skin on your shoulders is soft and smooth. My fingers dance along your body, hugging your curves, accenting your beauty with an outline.
Your hair falls away and exposes your cheek. My lips find their way to your face. Slowly caressing your neck and along your shoulders.
"There are too many places to kiss, and I've only got one pair of lips." I quietly whisper in your ear. My lips find their way to yours. They are luscious and full.
Your beauty is deadly. My fingers run along your neck, down your shoulder, slipping off one of your spaghetti straps as they travel. "Hi there." You sultrily say.
"Hello beautiful." I reply.
Lovers we remain, in the simplicity of the moment. You cause the world to stop,
with just the raise of your hand.
I cannot help but want to touch every inch of your body.

My alarm clock always steals away these incredible dreams.

Sullen Boy

I open my eyes to the sight of my own ceiling. My cell phones happy alarm chime mocks me. It's chime always yanks me from this place, I'd never like to leave.
Dream or otherwise. I kick off my blankets, and swing over to the side of my bed. I place my glasses upon my face, and the world around me comes into focus.
My room is messy. Shoes strewn about the floor around my bed. Cables hanging everywhere. Clothes littering the ground. My apathy towards this local cleanliness
has never benefited me. But it's kept unnecessary stress from me. At least that's my justification. The ground is cold on my bare feet, despite the summer heat that had crept
into my room during the night. I enter my bright bathroom, my eyes ache. Still not accustomed to this world again. As I brush my teeth, I'm still running the images through my mind.
I open the maple wardrobe in my corner to pick something to wear. My face stares back at me in the mirror.

I slip on some clothes and walk up the iron spiral staircase. Light from the morning sun penetrates the windows of the main floor. The mahogany colored walls covered with
pictures of my past. They remind me of the family I used to have, before everything changed. I pour myself a bowl of Cheerios, and open the fridge. A tiny bit of milk remains,
possibly just enough for that small bowl. I finish my cereal, and place the bowl into the almost full sink. I check myself once more in my mirror, and then exit my home. My dark blue
car waits for me patiently. I open the door, and get in. The ecstasy of my dream visits me once more, and I pause for a moment. Just trying to remember what I'm doing in here.
Driving to work. Right. My car starts up happily, just like every other morning.

The road is a place where I truly feel like I belong. The anonymity and irrelevance is incredibly freeing. I spend hours in my car, but I don't dread the trip. I enjoy it.
My arrival at work, is awkward and slow. As it usually is. I walk with my head down to avoid having to say hello to my co-workers. My shyness has always kept me safe
from moments like that in the past. My workday drags a long, monotonously, as each day does.

I leave the building, and look up into the vast sky. It is a deep gray. Moisture looms in the air, clinging to my skin. My limbs feel heavy on my slow walk back to my car.
My car returns to life happily. I slide it into reverse, and pull out of my parking spot. My car rolls forward, and away I go.

My car quickly accelerates onto the highway. Immediately I'm immersed in the music coming out of my car's stereo. It covers me, covers my skin, wraps my body in a blanket
of vibration. Goosebumps form on my arms as the adrenaline of the moment captures me. Courses through my veins. Circulating through my body with extreme speed.

The purple and red dashboard lights of my car blur as I lose myself. I breathe deeply, slowly. Forgetting about my monotone job, my monotone apartment, my monotone life.

I open my eyes, slowly. Warm liquid flows down my face, covering my clothes, covering my body. Immersing me, it it's waning usefulness. That's okay, I think to myself.
I don't need you anymore anyway. The cold steel crushes the life from me. My lungs cannot take this great weight upon my body. Finally, a worthy metaphor.

Through the red veil over my eyes, I peer up through my cracked sunroof. The sun shines through. It's warmth reminds me of the beautiful world above my head.
I'll miss that warmth.

Relax

Look up when you walk
Because there is so much to see above our heads
So much to get lost in

We're always so wrapped up in our lives
Sometimes we forget to step back
And enjoy the sky

Look up when it rains
Let the rain drops roll down your face
Smear your make up
Melt off your mask

We're always so wrapped up in our lives
Sometimes we forget to step back
And enjoy the sky

Let it take you away
Far far away
Just for a moment or two
Relax

Costume

All of those people stepping into freedom
With masks and fabric and paint
Hiding themselves, or are they?
Showing the world they aren't afraid
To pretend and imagine
To laugh and be themselves
It's here personalities flourish
It's here inhibitions lie discarded on the floor
It's wonderful here

It shouldn't have to end so early
Life should always be this way

Maybe it can be

You shouldn't be afraid anymore

I'm in here.

The humid air feels like sludge wrapped around my body.
It feels thick in my lungs. Sweat clings to my eyebrows as I peer up into the bright day.
The sun is on it's decent from the sky, after a long day of feeding plants and burning skin.
I wipe my forehead, and step down from my front porch. My brown leather sandals crunch
as I walk on the cracked old sidewalk. The plants on my block are flourishing in the rich summer.
They're beautiful, comforting and serene. They remind me just how beautiful silence is.

A small silver car drives past me on my block. I've always loved the way cars make that
whoosh sound as they pass by. It reminds me of growing up. Sometimes I would sneak
out after my parents had fallen asleep. I would walk down to the interstate. I would use
the hole in the fence, right by the yellow pedestrian sign. I would sit in the cool grass
by that road. And I would watch and listen. Whoosh.

My block is one of those stereotypical small town blocks. Cars passing through are seldom,
due to the fact we we're adjacent to a main street. My blonde haired neighbor smiles and waves.
I muster a feeble smile back. I think about when I first moved here. My mom saying "That woman
looks like she's drugged up on something." I remember the way my room smelled when I first
moved in. I remember feeling so much like I didn't belong. I remember my long walks alone,
late at night. Smoking cigarettes, and befriending the darkness of the night. I remember
the streetlight that I would sit under, near the abandoned building. The way it blinked, on those
cool nights.

Even though the day is almost over. The night has yet to come. I look forward to the night.
It's my safe haven. Somewhere I've always sought refuge from the events of the day. I cross
the torn up street and walk under the cement underpass. The cool shade it brings feels good.
A man in a orange reflective vest salutes me as I walk through the construction site. I salute
him back. Finally a greeting I can return without feeling awkward. The pieces of the destroyed
building litter the yard. Like a battle scarred solider, the building still stands in part. Refusing
to succumb to the efforts of the tireless workers assigned to destroy it.

I enjoy the poetry and simplicity of this scene as I move through it. At the edge of the construction
site there is a small fence. I remove my sandals and throw them over it. I scale the fence with ease,
despite my feet being unshielded. I slip my old sandals back onto my now dirty feet. I walk through
the lush green grass. The blades of grass tickle my dirty feet. The sun now golden orange, begins to
fade into the horizon. Light collapsing into the earth, to bide until the moon takes it's rightful place
high in the sky. I part the low hanging branches of the weeping willow, and enter the amazing
room it creates. The golden light of the sun barely penetrates this beautiful place. But just enough
to remind me that the sun is still there. Looking for me, wondering where I escaped to.

The boughs of the willow are thick, leafy and green. They keep the room they shield a secret.
My secret. My sanctuary. The room is lined with the vivid pink pedals from the willow. Like fallen
children they lay, their time has come and passed. The cool air wraps around me like a blanket,
cleaning off the sludge of humidity. I walk deeper towards the center of this great keep. I run my
fingers down the rough bark of the willow. I lean against it's trunk, and slide to the ground.
My sandals fall from my feet, and onto the dirt. The ground feels cool against my body,
as I am cradled by the tree. A breeze lightly blows the branches of the willow, their light conversation
lulls me to sleep.

My dreams are sometimes more vivid than reality. Sometimes I am trapped under great weight.
Sometimes I am attacked by poisonous beings, trying to still the life I hold on to. Sometimes
I am falling. From great heights, hurtling towards death with unimaginable speed. Sometimes I
don't dream. I cherish those moments of limbo. Those moments of blankness keep me safe. But my
dreams in this place are not terror, or fear. They are not death or loss. They are of my warm bed
during the winter. They are of my family and friends. I cherish these dreams more than my blank
lonely ones. They are of my dreams, they are of my acceptance of life.

I awaken to the same lullaby that I fell asleep to. The light bristling of the branches in the breeze.
There is very little light left under the willow. It has changed from golden orange to the deep blue
before nightfall. I feel refreshed, I feel reenergized, I feel alive again. I slip my sandals back onto my
dirty feet. I stand and feel the blood flow through my body. I spend a moment, and breath deeply.
"Good bye." I whisper, for no one but my keep to hear. I part the branches in the same place I entered.
I step out of my keep.

I turn for just a moment, looking at the great Willow one last time. This will be the last time I will
visit my sanctuary. The last time I will dream peacefully, knowing that I'm sheltered by the willow.
I'm reminded of when I moved from my first house. I'm reminded of the way I cried, and pleaded
with my parents to stay. I'm reminded of the way I still visit that place, because I know I left a piece
of myself there. That's just the way I am. I know I'll miss it.

The grass tickles my dirty feet the same way as before. The humidity has depleted from the air,
it is more comfortable than before. I hear something from inside the willow. I turn around quickly,
afraid at first. Then calm. Staring back at me, is myself. Just a shadow really, except for my eyes.

"Hey." I say, and salute.
I salute back, and nod.
"I'm in here." I say.
"I know." I reply.
"I'll miss you, dude." I say.
"I'll miss you too. Be good." I reply.
"You too. Don't forget, Okay?" I say.
"Ok." I reply.

I watch as the outline of my eyes fade back behind the branches. I turn back towards the chain link fence.
It's clinking and clanking is friendly in the falling light. The battlefield is quiet, it's combatants home with
their families. Done for today. The building has survived another day. I salute the building, in honor of my
own metaphor. The tunnel of the overpass is dark in the evening light. I walk slower through it to avoid
tripping on anything.

My stereotypical small town block is just as I left it. The houses have their living room lights on. Families
eating dinner together, talking about their days. What they did, how they feel. Eating the spaghetti
and meatballs, american style. Small town style. My brown leather sandals crunch on the old sidewalk.
A sidewalk traveled by many, but one that I would never travel again. I reach my front path quickly,
even though I was savoring my walk home. Tomorrow I'll leave, and never plan to come back. I'm happy
to move on though. I'm happy that I'll be able to make new memories, and find a new sanctuary.

But I'm never going to forget that one. Never going to forget the piece of myself that I left there.
"I'm in here."

I am slanted.

And you are too.
As the facts of life are about true, then we're all a little bit slanted.
We've all got that deep dark side.

It's naivety to believe that anybody is pure.
The molten hot seam between the two is incredible.

Too many people dance upon that seam, trying to find a balance.

And others, fall victim to each of it's sides. Both equally deplorable in full.


W'y c'n't a'y'o'e r'a'l'z'e.
You don't need to exist in the realm of constants.
You don't need to be pulled in between sides.
Torn apart, down the very middle.
You can just be you, and that's all you'll ever have to worry about.

Someone over the rainbow...

I've been looking for a worthy adversary for a long time.

Someone who thinks in opposites of what I think. Not always but sometimes.

I've been looking for someone who is maliciously intelligent.
Not blissfully ignorant.

I've been looking for someone who is smart enough to peer through the swiss cheese holes of this world.
And occasionally take a bite.

Who is apathetically ambitious,
Knowing the world is just one unfinished equation, but is trying anyway.

Someone who is looks much deeper into people than normal.
Much much deeper.

Someone who isn't afraid to live or die either.

Someone who understands why we are all so complicated,
Why everyone is stark raving mad,
and yet accepts the finer points in people regardless.

Who enjoys the simplest things in life,
Like fresh air on a crisp fall morning.
Or how beautiful green forests look in spring.

Someone who talks to themselves, inside their head, but with pictures instead of words.

Someone who can be alone, in a crowd of people, and love the anonymity.

Who understands dreams, realistic or not.

Someone who is open ended, like me.
Open minded as well.

Somebody who sings for the sake of feeling the music, not really caring if they're on key or off.

Who enjoys sleepovers, for the shaving cream faces and pillow fights.

Somebody who knows what being alive is, but resents being human sometimes.

Someone over the rainbow.

Ignorance is bliss I guess.

Have you ever wondered why pricks live forever?
But the good die young?

Good people spend their time thinking about why they lied, or cheated, or wronged. They're smart enough to realize what it was they did wrong, and try and justify it. It drives them crazy.

Pricks spend their time thinking about themselves, simple, easy people, and thus an infinite circle of thinking about themselves, is created, and they never worry about anything.

Good people are compassionate towards others when they realize they're hurting or vulnerable, and don't take advantage of the person when they are in that state.

Pricks are manipulative sons of bitches, that really are only compassionate when it allows them to achieve something they wanted or needed.

Good people are usually smart people.

Pricks are generally stupid but a worthy adversary is extremely smart while being malicious.

chimera

chimera

the mind runs circles around itself
in this place
in this time

i cannot access the words to describe
the wonder of this anonymous world
of shapes and colors,
and interpretations of perceptions

falling into thoughts about thoughts
imagery paths and self-induced hallucinations
i couldn't tell you the length of it all
not even in a million words

you could wish to think it was true
and hope to believe that it would,
as much as you want
but in the end
in the very end
it will never be real.

lionize

lionize

you are amazing
astound me with every step
with every word
with every letter

my eyes get lost in yours
my world would collapse without
you

and yet there is so much mystery
behind those beautiful eyes
i want to explore you

and yet i can't bring myself to move
frozen in this limbo
in ecstasy

until you finally deem me worthy
and wake me
with your soft lips
and incredible eyes.

Tired

tired

i'm so tired
so tired of your insecurities
of your leeches sucking the life from me

i'm so tired
of our memories haunting me
all of them i wish i could relinquish
but can't

but won't

i'm so tired of the mudstains you leave in my car
right after it was finally clean

i'm so tired of the way that you can't see through me
that you never could
and never will

i'm so impossibly tired of how i'll never escape
this infinite loop of feelings

no matter what i do.
i do.
i don't.

Peel the tape off my eyelids
I think the brainwashing is complete
All I have plastered across my brain
Are pictures of you

All with running ink
Impossible to forget
How the sun shines off your face
How your hair tickled my cheek

I think the brainwashing is complete
Because the only word I can muster
Is your name

And I utter it in pure ecstasy, forevermore.

Rocket Through Paper

I've been hiding behind the posters of your face
That litter the walls of my mind
I've been hiding from my impending doom

Soaring at me from afar
Protect me, oh please

I can't protect my self
From charred skin and shattered bones

These paper thin posters can't save me anymore
Life's assault threatens my every breath
Protect me, oh please

Protect me, Save me, oh please, oh please

Wake me

I've been too busy dying all the time,
To really appreciate the importance in life
The caffeine hangovers and serotonin hangups

Save me from the infernal machine
Wake me

I've been too busy sleeping all the time,
But my eyes are glued open
Red and dry, their pain is haunting

Save me from this demonic contraption
Wake me up

I've been too busy living all the time,
To die underneath a purple sky
Oh how beautiful that sunset was

Save me
Wake me

what a beautiful person.
did you see them?
beautiful.
did you see what they did?
amazing.
did you see how they did it?
elegant.
did you listen to them speak?
eloquent.
infatuation is so easy.
when you're a hopeless romantic.
or maybe just hopeless.

ghost trails2

take a picture.
every day everyone moves so fast.
we don't stop anymore.
all we have are pictures.
to capture moments.
it's too bad we're all too fast.
all we are, are ghost trails.
flashes that used to be human.
except for me that is.
my life is an epic standstill.
a beautiful standstill.
take a picture.
i am no ghost trail.

The wind gently moves the locks of hair on my forehead
as I stare out across the water
the busy skyline of the city reflecting off of the bright sun
it's rays shimmering across the green water
I sit patiently on this cracked piece of slate
as the world goes through the motions around me
I sit and wait patiently
as planes fly overhead
people walk their black dogs
and drive their cars
talk on their cell phones
mediating with the world
with life
they continue to move around me
I wait to
slip into the water
and let the beautiful green engulf me
as I relinquish my life to it
let it fill my lungs and course my veins
for I mediate with you death, my old friend.

What if I'm making a mistake?

http://xkcd.com/

Zeros and Ones

I have stood at the top of our never ending networks.
Our cross linked mass storage and super powered systems.
Our glowing screens and flickering cursors.
We are all just zeros and ones, floating in this domain.
And my digital self moves much faster than most.
Our clicking keys interface us with this world.
This world of On and Off.
Not maybe, possibly, perhaps or probably.
Just On and Off.
If only this world was so simple, I would move just as fast here.

Nothing at all.

I drive the streets a night
Long after most have fallen asleep
I drive in a post apocalyptic world
Where no one remains but myself
I listen to my music
The only relic my great civilization left behind
But I'm not nostalgic for the days of crowded sidewalks
Or busy streets
This infinite loneliness is fulfilling
It is amazing beyond all imagination
To have hope for nothing at all
To have hope for nothing at all.

Untitled

They told me I couldn't be real...
I sat on the shelf for too long.
My expiration date has long since come and gone.
And I sit gathering dust...
Waiting silently and patiently.
Eager to be touched.
Used even...
Wake me up from this nightmare.
Touch my fake heart.
And see if it comes to life.

People are people.

The explanation is a lot simpler than most people realize.
People are people.
Thats pretty much it.

Now, Hold it right there. People are people?
Yes.
People are people. They will act and speak as they do.
Specific to each person, but as a group they work off of one another.
People, (Not gender, race, or anything at all specific...) are run by their own faulty system.
A mixture of impulse and insight.
A raging war, each side brutally fighting the other for control.

But there are impulsive people and controlled people? How can you make such a judgement like that?
People are people.
People will slip into each side, with many different results. Good and bad.
We're all relative. Every single one of us.

You know what I think?
People suck.
Every.
Single.
One of you.

But here's why my statement is one of my favorites.
People suck.
Is general, and unspecific.
That means that this has nothing to do with your gender, race or anything at all. Just simply being alive, and awake.
I hate your impulses, and I hate your control.
I hate your ability to see, and your ability to be blind.
I hate your uncaring, and I hate your caring.
I could go on.
There is no bias and no discrimination.
Thats because hate, is just as much relative as anything else.
Thus voiding everything I just explained.

Alone.

I walk alone.
I do not leave trace of where I've been, no footprints or tracks.
I walk through the drifting snow.
Trapped in blue and white limbo.
I let it enfold me.
I smile a cold smile.
I wish I could tell you, just how I am.
Trapped in this state of forced emptiness.
I wish you could see the hole where my heart never was.
I wish someone knew this bursting feeling inside me.
I wish anyone knew.
But they don't and never will.