72 Hours on 4 Hours of Sleep...
-Audio-
My mind is foggy again. It's hard to think clearly when my thoughts move so fast. I know that I haven't written a journal since I was in middle school. What did I write? Who really gives a shit? I don't. That life is meaningless to me now. The boy I was is probably still alive inside of me, but surely he's horribly disfigured by now.
Why can't I remember the years between 1995 and 1999? I've never told anyone, but I have only the faintest recollection of those years. I know that I was in the hospital a lot. I know that I slept so little that I began to dream while I was awake. But what happened? And why am I choosing this topic to begin a journal with?
Perhaps it's been dormant inside of me for so long that it's finally coming up for air. Perhaps the key to why I'm so unhappy inside is hiding somewhere in those missing years. Most of my friends don't know, but I live in a dark place that exists outside of time. Inside my mind yesterday was 20 years ago; tomorrow 20 years away. I can remember everything with amazing clarity, but I can't remember those missing 4 years.
I have experienced love three times in my life: Once, for my parents, a second time for the man who should have been my father, and a third for a woman who loved only darkness itself.
I am much more familiar with the lower regions of human consciousness. Alone inside my mind, I erect a mask of cheerfulness to distract me from the torment I feel inside. My flesh is an uncomfortable burden that I am forced to carry every day of my life. I feel like an unwelcome guest in my own body. Sometimes I imagine that I only have to push the air, and my hands will pass through, and into a whole new universe. And perhaps they do...
Am I making any sense to you, whoever you might be? You've picked a bad place to wander, if it's wandering that you're doing. My mind is an endless stream of inconsequential information; of no use to anyone. So if you are a wanderer, perhaps you should see yourself out.
It's been so long since I've really allowed myself to speak that it's nearly overwhelming me. The emotions are far more powerful than I remembered. It's probably safe to say, that time has aged me far beyond my years. I'm so tired...
But I am comforted by the knowledge, that when sleep comes, it will be full of dreams. And when I wake I will be refreshed for a time. I will open my eyes, and step into the world to play my part: Random, loud obnoxious me. Always looking for a laugh...
Is it strange that I make people smile so much, but rarely ever smile myself? I suppose it is. Of course, no-one really knows that I'm not smiling but me. And I know it all too well. I've gotten so good at pretending to be happy that it doesn't take much effort anymore. When and why did I ever decide to pretend? I don't know...
I do know that a day will come, when I will smile for myself; for my own reasons. I know that day will come...
It's come and gone before...
My head hurts...
____________________________________________________________________________________________
-Assimilation-
|
-Audio-
As a boy he entertained,
So many optimistic visions,
Of his future.
The world, a shiny bauble,
Shimmering beneath enchanted eyes.
But as this child grew to manhood,
He would find.
That this world was just a prison.
An incubator for his mind.
A world where one’s existence is denied.
A world, where unfit mothers,
Kill their children still inside.
Still alive.
A world where speaking images,
Command, and we obey.
A world where we’re controlled,
What we think, and what we say.
But it’s ok.
Because we’ve been assimilated,
To live, to think this way.
But, a boy can’t understand,
That numerous, are the esoteric secrets;
Unseen.
That this world,
This sweet seductress.
Lies in wait to kill his dreams. |
____________________________________________________________________________________________
-Sirach 40-
-Audio-
A great anxiety has God allotted,
And a heavy yoke, to the sons of men;
From the day one leaves his mothers womb,
To the day he returns,
To the mother of all living…
His thoughts fill with fear,
His heart,
And troubled forebodings,
Till the day he dies.
Even when he lies on his bed to rest,
His cares at night disturb his sleep.
So short is his rest, that it seems like none,
Till in his dreams, he struggles,
As he did by day…
Terrified,
By what his minds eye sees.
Plague and bloodshed,
Wrath and the sword,
Plunder and ruin,
Famine and death…
As he reaches safety, he wakes up,
Astonished that there was nothing to fear.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
-Disappointed-
-Audio-
Disappointed.
Nicotine stained: my fingers...
Scars of, a hideous life;
A pitiful lack of healthy emotion...
Well, it's a matter of perspective;
These things take time...
So drown it out with disinfectant,
And learn to live a lie...
[Pray for me - I need something to believe]
[Nothing is sacred - Nothing is sacred to me]
Scrounging for cigarette butts,
To still my shaking hands;
Repress my abusive childhood;
Maintain my sanity...
Ignore the bitter evening air;
And stand,
Enraptured by the stars...
As if a change in constellation,
Could bring solace to my suffering...
Or pass a little time...
I'll close my eyes;
Breathe deep...
To suppress this old,
Disquieting...
Obsession of mine...
[Nothing's sacred]
[Nothing is sacred to me]
Disappointed...
____________________________________________________________________________________________
-Obvious-
-Audio-
I’ve witnessed something beautiful tonight.
As I lie here, on the floor,
In this lucid state of apathy;
Existence,
Isn’t what it seems to be…
The world subsists,
In shifting shades,
Of color;
It breathes…
But it’s all,
Fragmentary;
Imaginary...
It doesn’t really hold,
A solid place;
It’s only empty space…
And I cannot fill it.
***
Parallel,
Pastel reflections.
Dancing on the insides,
Of my eyelids.
(This is so fulfilling.)
Circling the obvious again;
Ministering, to my obsession.
...
This is my obsession.
***
I’ve witnessed something beautiful tonight.
As I lie here on the brink of death.
This is not imaginary.
This is something real.
This is the only way,
That I can get away…
Trust me.
I think it’s time to give my mind some rest.
I think it’s time to shed this mask;
This bag of flesh…
Trust me.
This is the only way to cleanse me.
This is the only way, that I can be,
Me...
(Trust me)
____________________________________________________________________________________________
-Psychosis-
-Audio-
Another time around the bend;
Maybe things will turn out differently.
I’m staring at my own reflection,
And it’s grinning back at me...
Ripping out my hair, but unaware,
My thoughts are gathering again...
Traveling the road,
Of lost souls...
...
This will never end.
***
I know it’s dumb, but I can’t help it.
I’m regressing, I can feel it...
There’s no outlet, for this madness.
It’s finally creeping, back behind me now.
And,
Somehow, I sustain it.
But I can’t maintain my cool composure.
And as I feel it,
Ripping:
Time is nothing;
I’m still slipping...
And I can’t contain it.
(shit)
I can’t arrange it!
(But it’s so warm and comforting)
It’s finally killing,
What’s inside me now...
***
Even though you can see me,
You don’t really know me...
...
I’m so abhorrent...
***
Drooling on myself;
Disgusted with myself...
My mind is fogging,
(Without end)
Traveling the road,
Of lost souls...
...
Just to see it again.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Depravity & Discord-
-Audio-
Life-blood, of a system, that crushes its components;
Moving hand to hand, through the freedom land.
Where freedom, is nothing but a myth;
Spoken ear to ear, through our bleeding lips.
Leaving vile stains on our fingertips . . .
Watching TV shows, wishing we were rich.
While the rich men, squander all their riches on whores;
Secreting piles of semen from their open pores.
They command, and plan, and build on, all the land...
Why put the homeless in homes?
. . .
When we can build a nation on their bones . . .
***
This isn’t something new.
***
Welcome to the new age;
Forget the last page.
No-one likes a sucker;
Have some supper.
And forget what the bad men told ya;
Just smoke what the good man rolls ya . . .
And close your eyes;
Act like you’re surprised,
. . .
When they put another product on the shelves.
Freedom of speech?
Freedom and rights?
Freedom,
To swallow all the fuckin’ lies!
From the men you picked,
From the pick of picks!
While you sat at home,
Stroked your fuckin' dicks!
On the “World Wide Web,” all alone . . .
Another slave.
Feed from the hand of the freedom land.
As if it comforts you;
As if it pays your bills.
Well it made them up!
And it fuckin’ kills.
Uncle Sam,
Is just another symbol!
Lady liberty;
Just another bimbo
Who sits so high and haughty on her wall.
And like Babylon . . .
We’ll all be there to mourn her when she falls.
. . .
. . .
. . .
And it makes me sick.
