God! That's Good!

Oh no! Not me! I never lost control. You're face to face with the man who sold the world.

Time started: 3:01 pm.
Time of awakening: 12:07pm
Weather: Stormy, it's becoming a usual.
Music: The Night Pat Murphy Died - Great Big Sea
Mood: Cheery, but because of the music I kinda feel like getting mass Irish drunk and dancing on the tables.
Current Thoughts: The guy in the song 5000 miles sounds soooo whipped.

So it's midway through July, and what have I done with my summer? You could say not a lot, but I honestly feel like I'm getting somewhere, perhaps not physically, but my mental condition has improved so much and I feel a lot better than I did when school first ended. Purify the mind and the body will follow. That's the hopes here. My body isn't as healthy as it could be, but once again, better than it was.

Everything small seems to be more interesting, everything sacred, less confusing. The world is slowly turning and I am no longer standing still. I am no longer a sitting duck trapped within my own walls, which I myself built. The fabric is tearing, the tears are drying and the worst of the moment is behind me in a whirl of dark colours which I will one day turn around and cherish. Maybe not today. Maybe not yet. But one day. Everything will be better, and you know, it's all ups and downs. Where's the fun without that?

So off my own inner turbulence. I really feel like dancing. But I can't Irish dance. I'd want to though if I could. I also kinda feel like writing. That's probably what I'm doing here. Trying to satisfy my urge to write. I'm not in the mood for a novel writing binge, I just want to write. OMG I HAVEN'T WRITTEN POETRY IN SO LONG. I should do that. That's what I shall do. I'll do it right now.

Implications of Propriety

An anarchist somewhere is ready to awake,
To open his eyes and welcome the day.
Thankful for the oppertunities he will take,
Already thinking of things he will say.

A seven year old girl gets struck down in the streets,
By an automobile whose breaks were cut.
The paramedics cover her with plastic sheets.
The boy with pliers watches with his eyes shut.

An elderly man breaks down and sobs in dispair,
Thinking of his seven year old sister.
His mother had told him to be greatly aware,
And be sure not to help the strange mister.

This grevious tail of many woes and hardships,
Is a warning to those who tend to think,
That the lives which have seemingly simplistic scripts,
Don't cause terror further down the chainlink.

Ok I'm pleased, although VERY annoyed with my father. I'm listening to fiddles still. I should probably go now... Before I start getting repetitious and such.

Bye!

Update.

I read the news today, oh boy....

Mood: Excited
Time: 12:00 am lol on the dot.
Physical Condition: Tired and sore.
Mental Condition: Happy (There's a first for everything)
Music: Don't Leave No One But The Baby - Alisson Krauss / Emmy Lou Harris
Location: In a chair, in front of a desk, near the front door.
Thoughts: My cat is being special again... I can hear her falling down the stairs... I thought cats landed on their feet. Oh jeez, she's squeaking... I thought cats meowed. Hmmmm....

So there's a breakdown of my current condition.

It's now summer, and I am currently stuck in my house... ALL FUCKING SUMMER. Except for the lovely week and a half out in B.C which I am looking forewards too sooooo much.

I RECORDED A SONNNNNG TODAY!

That's another exciting breakthrough, but it's late and there's no one to share it with :(

Hmmmm I actually don't have much to say, this is pathetic. I shall have to post again soon. I'm quite tired actually and I've barely eaten anything lately. Been too wrapped up in my own world of recording and writing. Bah it's soooo... Laxidasical. Plus there's no food in my house anyways. We're poor.

"And said the government unto the people ' Ye who possesith no money, shalt not possesith nourishment.'" And so it was. And it was not good. And everyone now because of it should hate the government.

I AM ALSO WRITING A TRILOGY!!!!!!!

Exciting no?

Anyways I'm done for now as I have nothing better to say, and I think my joints in my left had are developping arthritis from all the typing.

Night!

Love?

Love is like the cruel winds of winter.

Binding you close.

Stealing your faltering breaths.

Stinging your soul with it's memory.

Fading.

Still you cling to it.

Picking up the shards from the floor.

Wincing as they stab you again.

Dropping them.

Only to try and piece them back together.

Nothing will save you from it.

It will come on angels wings.

Smile and draw you near with it's fallacy.

Endearing encouragement.

Closer, closer.

Reach out.

Strike.

I love you.

Too late.

It bit you with a thousand needles.

Searing flesh and pillaging mind.

Over and out.

Infectious.

You try to run from it.

Evading it with wide eyes and closed mind.

It ensnares you in it's grasp.

Holds you until you collapse into oblivion.

Wake.

Drowning in a pool of your own tears.

You hold onto the memory.

What you thought you had.

If only for a brief moment.

And question yourself.

Was it worth it?

That one moment of complete elation.

Compared to all your sorrow.

Was it worth while.

Every second of it.

Yes.

Hero

Devan is my hero because we speak in prose. I just needed to put this somewhere so as to not lose it.


( * Joi Grey )} --- Birds flying across the sky, throwing shadows on our eyes, leave us helpless, helpless, helpless-- says:
I hope it comes to you like a wave of inspiration

Devan says:
a welcom splash upon my weary eyes, dried by the passing hours of wake

Devan says:
(very nice, very nice)

{( * Joi Grey )} --- Birds flying across the sky, throwing shadows on our eyes, leave us helpless, helpless, helpless-- says:
Ticking slowly as the time goes by, staring holes into the ceiling

Devan says:
for what is the ticking of a clock but an illusion~a lie~something described that never was

Devan says:
water flows from holes and brings sleeo

Devan says:
sleep*

{( * Joi Grey )} --- Birds flying across the sky, throwing shadows on our eyes, leave us helpless, helpless, helpless-- says:
As lakes slowly dry over time that never was

Devan says:
AHA! inspired sleep comes with time~sleep is a lie unto itself until described otherwise!

Devan says:
(bitchslapped!)

{( * Joi Grey )} --- Birds flying across the sky, throwing shadows on our eyes, leave us helpless, helpless, helpless-- says:
Thought sleep may be a lie, within it we find truths of tomorrow and oblivion of today

Devan says:
only the concept of today and tomorrow is a lie ~ but then you're just being cynical!

{( * Joi Grey )} --- Birds flying across the sky, throwing shadows on our eyes, leave us helpless, helpless, helpless-- says:
Yesterday and tomorrow may not exist, but the present will always be.

Yay for random bits of poetry, they make me feel better about my life.

Life. Living. How?

So I have this problem. I can't communicate, I can't focus, I can't feel, and just to top it off I've been sick for 3 weeks, and I have no motivation to do anything. There's no one left to talk to and those who try I have a tendancy to push away and disregard with an air of detatched boredom. I don't know what I should do anymore. I just don't want to be like this. I want to be normal and have friends who feel they can talk to me, or who aren't affraid to approach me. Everyone must think I'm insane, not that I care, or say I'm not, because I probably am.

And then there is everyone's favourite 6 letter word - Stress. My life is full of it. And being sick does not remedy the situation. I'm sure I failed my math midterm. I spent more time coughing and trying not to gag than actually concentration on the problems. As a result I did not finish on time.

I wonder what next fantastic week has in store for me. I really don't want to know.