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My blog, where I store those thoughts rattling around my brain |
Welcome to the insanity of my mind! Please excuse the cobwebs and clutter, I've been meaning to clean the place up a bit... This is where I vent in poetry, give updates to what I'm writing about, or just post music I'm listening to at the moment. I don't really know what to do with blogs so I just go with the flow! Stop in and read some of my nonsense whenever the mood strikes you :) |
I stand before a crossroads Holding a shovel, Covered in mud from Where I buried the dead man He fought with untold fury but I was cunning And slit my throat The man I used to be Now he lies, an unknown grave where the victor stands a blank slate bearing wisdom from another life Limping to the crossroads I forge a new path Scarred from battle Haunted by the one I've slain Rain falls, washing off the mud Baptizing me anew I turn to grey skies Whispering oaths bound in blood A cold hand upon my shoulder His mocking phantom Gurgles you'll never change I smile because I already have |
I would love to hold on To the memories you gave But all I am doing Is squeezing my heart dry You were brimming with conversation Endless topics flowing so brightly Now I would be lucky for a few words What did I do to earn your silence? I almost felt important For the briefest of moments Before I was tossed back To that voiceless abyss Is this a passing interest, I asked but you couldn't answer Perhaps I should have known I would receive more of the same Couldn't you have warned This was going nowhere Before I packed my hopes and made you their destination? Why let me know you and share blissful secrets If I have to forget all the time we spent dreaming? You did yourself a favor by making me feel worthless But I could have done that without any of your help. I would love to hold on To the memories you gave But all I am doing Is squeezing my heart dry |
So she's traded my love for comfort, gives it all away So much for that happy ending, now you make it clear You've got your options, only one way left to go So I'll follow it down She goes straight, straight for the deep end Doesn't hesitate to dive right in Be careful now, be careful now Be careful, be careful now She only comes to me in my dreams So sleep becomes addicting It's not healthy, it's what makes you right It's not healthy, it's what makes you Hold her strings to haunt my dreams |
I'm running from my demons now, Racing thoughts inside my head, Gasping as I pump these legs, Burning pain keeps them at bay. I go until my muscles shake Limbs quake, threaten to collapse But still, I force myself along Because the demons are coming back I hope my music drowns them out But wicked whispers worm within That hissing static sorrow, Shreds my soul with savage glee. That is why I cannot rest Even if my tendons tear I'll run, I'll walk, I'll limp away From those voices in my head |
It's official. I now have a grand total of five unfinished projects. Well, I'm working on one of them and it should be done by the end of this week... So hopefully that will bring it down to four? As of today, I have the following to finish: The Sea of Trees (nearing completion) Earthbound (half-finished but has complete outline) Library of Nightmares (still needs editing and various additions made) Deathless Boy (literally making it up as I go along) The Book of Shadows (extensive notes and research made, but I have no idea where I left off) All of these are extremely promising but I keep getting distracted! Why do I start new stories? Maybe it's easier to create new ideas than to flesh out existing ones... My goal is to complete all of these, but that's an awfully tall order. So far I'm going to stick with one and whittle down each one as I go. Wish me luck, I'm in desperate need of it! There is no reconciliation That will put me in my place And there is no time like the present To drink these draining seconds |
What is it like to be emotionally detached? How do you view the world? Are you able to analyze each situation from a solely rational perspective? Sometimes I feel like it would be easier to live without having to endure these pesky feelings. What are they good for? Bringing me trouble, that's what I think. It would be nice to wake up without having to have inner monologues about nonsense before I eat breakfast. Where is the switch to shut that crap off? Do you believe you're missing out That everything good is happening somewhere else? But with nobody in your bed The night's hard to get through |
Since I joined a class created by Bob's Alternate Realities ![]() ![]() So far, I'm over 4000 words and counting. I think the final tally will be around 6k, but we will have to see. I'm really excited to show everyone and hope that it will be worth the wait. See ya round, folks! I'm going back into my lair now. Don't know why this is happening But I'll do what I want I'll do what I please I'll do it again till I've got what I need I keep swinging my hand through a swarm of bees 'cause I I want honey on my table |
We all bear scars upon our hearts Indelible marks which others left Sometimes inflicted to ourselves They ache and twinge Old wounds, seeping with memory Refusing to scab over Perhaps those will never fade Lingering through shades of time Bittersweet reminders Ghosts that haunt us Creeping in those still moments When daily thoughts have settled |
I was talking to a friend yesterday and the topic of talents came up in our conversation. I remarked how some people were naturally gifted athletes, scientists, lawyers, etc. When I was questioned as to what my skill might be, I laughed and said that I was good at making pretty words. Isn't that all writing really is? Pretty words? Flowery speech? Sweet nothings? This idea filled me with some chagrin, but I found it humorous. Perhaps that's why so many people have discarded reading altogether, it's just fleeting entertainment. But then I see how movies and TV shows have filled that void and then I'm back to scratching my head again. Do you think there's any hope for wordsmiths like us, in a world that treats the idea of reading books like the mental equivalent of eating your veggies? It's a beautiful lie It's a perfect denial Such a beautiful lie to believe in So beautiful, beautiful, it makes me |
So much to do, so little time. Do you ever wonder if successful authors were able to finish a novel because they were social recluses? Either that or they must have some godly typing skills to bust out a novel in short periods of time. It's a skill I would love to hone, in between work and family visits and friends. Sometimes I just want to lock myself in a cabin and return months later with a bushy beard and stacks of complete manuscripts. But life has a way of leading you astray. I shake my fist at you, oh forces of nature! How dare you give me rich experiences to draw from, but no chances to write them down! Perhaps this weekend I'll make some progress... (Disregard the other hundred times I've said that) Put on a show for the viewers back home Hide the truth so they'll never know You hate what you got Can't you love what you got? So smile for the cameras that keep rolling |