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Walk through his own boulevard... Welcome to Matt's Blog |
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I know I stole the title from a song by Green Day but only because this covers most of my past and well how I feel now and I guess I'll look into the future too because this is where all my ramblings are going to be held. All the things that go through my mind, so sometimes it'll be completely random and you probably won't have a clue what I'm talking about but other times you will understand. Pretty please don't judge what you read here because this isn't just a story this is life for some of us, I'd appreciate it if you respected that... Oh yeah if you tend to be a bit more fluffy then I would strongly advise you not to walk down this road, this is a story that happened... so there is nothing to blunt the truth. (For Staryl : omae wa mada hanatarekozai (jks)) |
| Look at me.... That's all he wanted, the simple phrase spinning around in his head. Look at me.... Why wouldn't she look up? What was wrong with her?The young boy was siting on the curb side next to his friends body. Her red gold hair cascading still over her bruised up face. Look at me Kayse.... She just layn there... she was a stone girl now... A perfect little angel... she s till is.... |
| Sometimes I look... Up to the skies and I... don't know what I'm thinking. I know I've got an idea in the palm of my hand but I can't quite grip into it. And sometimes I can't seem to put my feet on the ground... My life gets so confused and I lose myself in one moment then don't understand why I'm so cast away... My deepest thoughts are locked down so I can't feel them. I'm safer that way.... Cried myself to sleep again last night.... All the time... every second I feel as if it would be easier on peope if I just didn't exist. People think they know me, then flaunt it just to spite me.... Though they used to turn around, they can't see what I've seen.... Never can never would even if deep dpwn they wanted to understand. I won't let people in any more.... I Guess it's MY weakness.... I hate to be weak but sometimes.... I just can't help the way I act.... And I can't help the way others decide to react either.... |
"No! Come on dont... don't do this... Oh God don't....Please..." frghtened murmers were spilling out into the night. A cry, weak and dying crawled from underneath an indented door, "Is little Matty unsure? Is my bitch a pussy?" "Please don't.... don't... Loz..." Behind a dirty, dented white car... "C'mon whore, be good for me. Drink Up baby." "No... no..." A blond head was turned away, tears streaking it, small body pressed into the wall. his hands pressed weakly against his companions chest, "Please don't..." "Whores don't get choices baby. Undo me." A small sob escaped the smaller lad as he w as smashed into the wall, slender hands fumbled with the buttons of the others demanding shadow. "Don't do this... please... Not like this... please?" the boy was trembling with silent tears. roughly his body was flipped over and his back turned to the other. the words fluttered over his lips in noiseless sounds. "Don't worry baby, I'll go gentle on a bitch like you. Man you like rag doll, so helpless..." the elder boy was laughing slightly, running his hands down, over the child's arse, "So good. You've always been a good boy. Don't fail me now bitch." "Not like this." His body was naked in the alley, "Not like this..." His frame was once again thrown into the wall. Blood snaked down his chin. He never thought this would happen... ********* Somethings happen... even when we don't want them to... |
| Nothing stays the same, and the impure will always conquer the pure... The ones that can ward all their blackness away become the saints... There is no way a person of low status (and I don't mean any offense by that) can ever stay clean, nor can the truelly high. There is no way anyone can stay happy. Happiness comes at a price, a price that differs from person to person. Nothing stays the same. It's like a house, loan and equity... and the equity is the price that no one can touch.... Everyone dreams but for many the dream will never be seen or felt or succeeded. Many dreams are created through giving up another, other dreams are tainted by the cruelties and hardships of life. Love is one dream and it is tainted. The church has done Love a great disservice by making every form a sin in some way, damning a - seperate, population: I am a sinner.... I have been 'tainted' according to the faith. But my dream is real, it is pure for what it is, my own dream for Love... Hated and despised by a vast majority in every country. It's not the same as it once was. It has changed, it has been tainted and bashed and mistaken, lost and bruised and broken. It has moved from the simplicity of a child to what it is.... It has been made impure and yet everytime it is damaged it is reborn... Once Bitten, Twice shy... Bitten Thrice, Terrified.... I don't want to give up that dream but like everyone, I'm afraid of what it does. Of the fact it makes you so weak and so blind, so easily changed and lost. That Love and Lust, so easily confused, marr the lives we lead.... It's strange to think sometimes though that we can follow all out dreams.... I can't do things at the expense of others. Though sometimes my heart tells me I should... It's a form of hurting myself and turning away from the impurity of what I am. Incase people think I have something against the church I just want to add that I do believe in the Faith, but it knocks me back with its colder words of impurity and damnation. |
Facing yourself on your own is hard. Only my mum, my younger sister and a few of my closest friends know. I told them all seperately, when I knew I could trust them. I had a friend who too was facing the dark. He and I became close, I mean it, really, really close. Until recently I was gullible enough to believe that he really did love me.... I know he didn't. he was using me as a tool to fetch his the money to feed his addiction... His drugs. His cigarettes, I was the 'thing'. The money together in his scheme. Jerk is to good a word. And right now, death is to good a punishment. He does not suffer, not even now. he smokes both his addictions and takes his happiness. I suppose one day he might stop. But not soon. I'm his prisoner still... If I decide to find s omeone else he's already said to me that he will destroy them.... I don't know, he w asn't himself... But I can't tell whether he was serious... I distance myself from him now, he won't use me anymore, he can't hurt me. Won't force me into things anymore. Because he did so much more to me that simply take my money... |
Nope it is not a thing about the borrowers... What do you mean yes it is.... Listen on. Listen on. There are these little books about Mostly True Stories by The Little People and one of those has become my little people mantra. 'She said she cried everyday, not because she w as sad. But because Life was so short and the World was so beautiful.' Well I like it and I guess I always needed something to tell me that the world is not as cruel as I see it everyday. Sometimes we look out of the window and there's the yellow screaming tape of an investigation below. We instantly know something terrible has once again appeared on our doorstep and suddenly the world is jus concrete and blood and stone. There is nothing you can do about it. |
| I remember when I used to cut myself... I felt in control.... of y punishment... I had to be perfect. But I couldn't be. I'm not. I'm human. I was so relieved when the blood flowed over my arms, down my legs.... I wanted every time to push a little deeper. I did.... one time.... and i woke up still lying where I was but my sister was..... looking after me. Crying.... She told me "Pointless oniichan.... So Fucking pointless! Why the fuck do you do this to youself." And I cried too.... |
Sometimes things become entangled in lies, secrets, emotions, life. And sometimes you can't escape from them. People do stupid things, no matter how hard they try they will always come out and conquer over what you have pulled around you. Night blankets do not keep out the monsters. The other day, as I sat with all the bleeping monitors singing around me, the rushed in and out of the breathing tubes that weave through, I could not help but feel that the world was infact slowly falling apart. Terrorism is fed by the media, it could not exist with out the speed that news gets to us. Wars are started over oil. Families sink into alcohol and agony, mistakes are made which split you apart. Life is just a game. Yesturday my sister asked me wether I wanted to turn in my father to the police. I said no. Stupid. But somethings just can't be helped. I can't leave blood in the dark but in many ways I can't let what he tried to do to her go unnoticed... |
| Tenement blocks that stretch up into oblivion and miander down every road nearby. Broken glass and rotting left overs litter the streets where the gangs of teenagers have left them weeks before. Dull aching grey tarmac and concrete, no sign of life except the sad tired faces of the occupants, - that's my family and our thousands of neighbours. I walk, slowly down the cold streets. My blond hair flickers in the wind, falling across pale skin and cerulean eyes. It whips through my dark clothing sending a chill down my body. I carry my guitar carefully, but keep myself as inconspicuous as I can. Attention will only summount to being hurt and that is a lesson well learnt to most people in the area. My friends and I simply call it No - Mans Land out on the streets because as soon as you're out there you're on your own. No one notices me as I walk, a few stares come my way, but nothing comes of it. I don't know what I'm thinking, except that don't know what I'll find in the place I call my home. Dark, dimly lit stairs run into the pale orange glow of the lights. Thirteen floors, the lifts not working... Thumping noise grounding through one of the doors. Unwanted and quiet I slid through shadow into the rooms of a place I call home... It's not a home... but it's where my family live... Filth greets me as I press further into the dreary flat. The smell of the great unwashed wraps me in its tendrils of rank perfume... Alcohol and mould, sweat and puke... For a second I gag, hardly daring to breath in the muck filled air. The ritual is shattered, a scream... her scream... Muffeled but it's so close. I round the corner, banging through the door. My father has one hand over my sister's mouth, his own slimey face is pressed into her neck, his tongue retracts into that hole he calls a mouth as he pulls back. "What the Fuck! Let Her Go!" I stand rigid, guitar long forgotten somewhere in the hall, so much for safety today. Harri gasps as he lets go of her mouth, slipping to her knees, tears streaming her cheeks like a miniature yangtze... Her eyes look straight up into mine, begging for a forgiveness that came unbidden and silently praying that I'll run... But I can't run.... Not whilst he has her in his grip. "So lil faggy boy has come back to play?" "Let her go." "You want me to let this wench go? Well maybe I will," He dropped her wrist and she scrambled away from him, her nerves shattered, "But you're not going anywhere." ........ Matt Dragoon Master   |
Never turn away from the darkness because it will chase. Turn around and escept it because that way you can live with it, minus the fear of being caught. I was told that by my grand - father, he and my dad had argued for years and so - I guess in his own little way he already had me figured out. He and me were like two peas in a soup dish, we wanted to survive the boiling waters but if we could not we would dive to the bottom and finish it off nice and quick. However he died. Earlier than we thought, only the year after we moved house. I was eleven... strange how time flies.... |
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