Friday, October 24, 2003

I still feel drained, constantly tired. Just not happy in general.

I guess, as I said, deep down, this is how I feel. But I have been trying to fight it off, since I was sick of being depressed so often.

I'm sure it'll go away as soon as it has come.

Anyways, I went to Target today and filled out the computerized application process they have there. Also got an interview. They are going to call Monday or Tuesday. I sure hope they call..

Also filled out two other applications. My mp3 Player for my car also came in the mail along with the 240 watt speakers. My Dad and his boss are going to install it tonight, should be cool.

My column is being cut shorter even as much as I work so hard on it. It's not even a column, really. It's a story, I'd say. I don't even think it's about getting fired from the job...it's more like a collage of my whole experience there at KFC.

So that will end up getting cut. It kind of makes it feel worthless to even try to exceed at something like that.

I went up to the school earlier today, just got back, in fact, and sat there while people--Ally, Kim, Amy--talked about what needs to be done with the paper.

I stayed for about an hour and left. And here I am.
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Thursday, October 23, 2003

Might as well type up what is bothering me.

My Dad has been yelling at me ever since earlier this evening when we went to Taco Bell.

I think it is because my Mom has been going out all week, every day, every single inch and ell and hell of every single night.

I can't even think I'm so...I don't know. I am not in a good mood at all. I am tired, I felt really, really light headed as I wrote the last poem I just typed...and it was so strange, I'd read the poem and I'd swear things were repeated and they never were repeated. Weird.

Yeah. My Mom has been going out every single night with her friends it seems. She's never home until 12 or so.

So I am getting yelled at for it. I am being told I need to clean my room, get more job applications, and so on. I don't even care.

It shouldn't be a big deal. And isn't.

When it comes down to it I just can't stand anything anymore. Deep down, deep in the deepest reaches of myself I just am sick of everything, hate everything, don't even want to exist.

And this only appears when I'm so tired and all...and...

I can't stand this being yelled at all the time.

Fuck. I can't stand this. I feel like crying but I can't.
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Might as well type up what is bothering me.


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murder me
life munches
murder me.
inside my pain
the bloodflower cruel.
twinkle twinkle stupid star.
how i wonder where you are
murder me.
life munches
chews skin
to muscle lines
then bones.

muscle,bone,skin,
deep in me.
life munches
chews skin.

it's either life
murders me.
or i murder me.
choose neither
and choose none.

fate's wide eyes
through freedom's ribs.
the sleep monster sins.
and bleeds in the darkness
that is not feeling,is not killing,
is not living,nor breathing,nor needing.
just breeding.
just sleeping,justdreaming, just cleaving.
here inside my wall.

waiting for the worms
the barnacle's claw
that is my brain's
wide beady eyes.
fate's wide eyes.

murder me.
life munches
chews skin.
rips my heart.
and eats of it.

wandered in the desert
of my mind,the barnacle's claw
found me, sitting alone,behind my wall
tearing my heart out, blood be red
there i talked to me,my life's shed.

"do you eat oyour heart," i asked
in the most quiet lisps of my tongue.
"no," was the answer.
"it eats me."

"does it be bitter?" for bitter
be bitter as bitter fingers are.
he ate of his heart,after so looking to me.
"bitter, yes. but it be bitter
because i be bitter."

he puked of my heart
on desert granite
and died to my feet
murdered by his heart.
torn to sleep's death.

looking to the clouds
where choirs sing above
of god's greatness clue.
and finding the clouds
to be deep blotches
of wounds.
just sleeping,justcleaving,
tighter than a man's head.
and tighter than a mangled deathbird.
life is live even in the sky
breathing its hoe to space's lips.

what a whore's lips
blackness be.
and eternally the dead man
buried in his grave died deamed
he puked of my heart
on dessert granite
and died to my feet
murdered by his heart.
torn to sleep's death.

looking to the clouds
where choirs sing above
of god's greatness clue.
and finding the clouds
to be deep blotches
of wounds.
just sleeping,justcleaving,
tighter than a man's head.
and tighter than a mangled deathbird.
life is live even in the sky
breathing its hoe to space's lips.

what a whore's lips
blackness be.
and eternally the dead man
buried in his grave died.
kissed by the whore
that life knelt.
that stabbed rustily
in his throat.

tear out my heart
there be a hole in my chest
that will bleed the brightest red
so all can drink of death.
tear out my eyes
there be a hole in my head
that will be the brightest black
so all can drink of death.
tear out my arms
and my legs
murder me.

monsterous monstrosity
the humanity
of life's heavetear out my eyes
there be a hole in my head
that will be the brightest black
so all can drink of death.
tear out my arms
and my legs
murder me.

monsterous monstrosity
the humanity
of life's heave.
endlessly
clutching me.
in my sleeve.
and in my lungs.
the oxygen's cleave
cuts me to life.

shoot out my lungs
and smoke them with smoke
then tie a tight rope
on the end of the lump.
pulling tightly to shove.

life rapes you
into life
then murders you
out of it all.
lovely.
like being a virgin
in the flow of nothing.
then nihilistically life creates
and inseminates a lover's pleasure
to make another being forever.
so i can kiss another lover's pleasure
to make another being forever.

murder me.
grey me.
wrinkle me.
shoot me.
strangle me.
i'm amazed i've survived.
survival saved my life.
the life's clutch that chokes
shall kiss my wounds

life rapes you
into life
then murders you
out of it all.
lovely.
like being a virgin
in the flow of nothing.
then nihilistically life creates
and inseminates a lover's pleasure
to make another being forever.
so i can kiss another lover's pleasure
to make another being forever.

murder me.
grey me.
wrinkle me.
shoot me.
strangle me.
i'm amazed i've survived.
survival saved my life.
the life's clutch that chokes
shall kiss my wounds
and masochistic,make a new moon.

an interstellar birth
am i back,a star,to rot my time.
sleepmaker,take your sweet insanity.
to sleep is to be,for a moment, meaningless.
life's endlessness.
tedium,meticulum,fastidium,
built block by block,by reaction.
by fraction,intention,and inflection.

muder me.
MURDER ME.
MuRdER Me.
i live
to breathe.
to die
to heave
to sleep
to be
to hate
to love
to need
to heed
to be
to intend
to cleave
to cut
to wound
to rot
to decay
to sheave
to kiss
to miss
to feel
to kill
to motion
to devotion
to layer
to care
to hair
to brain

to never
ever change.
to always
be
the same.

to live in the whore's lips.
the anal retentive click.
the dream that dreams
the dream of my existence.

to be gone
to be dead
to not be here
to never feel
to never need
to never shed
to never cry
to never touch
to never learn
to never turn
to never kiss
to never want
to never be.
the most best
of all things.
the whore's lips
deny
and leave me
benign.
leave me
to find.

life rapes you
into life.
gives you an umbilical
dream in the light.
then kills you
in cold blood, in cold night
in cold blood.

life murders
murder me.
life murders
and ends all.

suffering
suffer
suffering
suffer
suffering
pleasure
suffer
pleasuring
suffering
pleasure
suffer
pleasuring
sickness
deathing
living
machine.

the endless
knee of knees.
the endless
fingers of finger.
the endless
hands of hand.
the bodies body of
the land.

living
to stand.

erotically
painfully
so light headed.
so beheaded.
so vented.
so close,so gutted.

break me through
freedom's ribs
so i can end
at love's sin

suffering
suffer
suffering
suffer
suffering
pleasure
suffer
pleasuring
suffering
pleasure
suffer
pleasuring
sickness
deathing
living
machine.

the endless
knee of knees.
the endless
fingers of finger.
the endless
hands of hand.
the bodies body of
the land.

living
to stand.

erotically
painfully
so light headed.
so beheaded.
so vented.
so close,so gutted.

break me through
freedom's ribs
so i can end
at love's sin.

for i need
and for i want.
and so life lives.
to want.
and need.

to suffering.
murder me.

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lights out
on division street

and all the hate that rises through the cracks and pavement
as the temperature falls
(this is where it hits the ground)

lights out on Division St. I'm repeating
'Goodbye' to the memories,
the fever that wil not break.

the night is pouring down, it's not
enough to put this out.

I'll burn up before I wake up on Division St.

this is serious. this is serious.
if this is serious I'll hide my heart in dark parades.

lights out on Division St. I held you tight like an empty bottle but the glass broke and the poison spilled out of your mouth: hello hello...

Hello. Is anybody there? The house turned black and sat in silence while a mocking bird sang:
"lalalalalalalala listen to yourself go on and on and on as if you spoke to someone else...."

If this is serious I'll hide my heart in dark parades, to dance between the scissors' blades without getting cut.

I drew an X on your CITY'S NAME. LIGHTS OUT. BLACK OUT. BLOW OUT THE CANDLE AGAIN. spin the room around. fall down, pass out, get up, I can't keep repeating.

between the footsteps I hear crickets in the trees, a silent army marching through a swarm of bees. a needle dragged across a record, slowing down, along Division St the lights were dying out, endless rows of houses stretched on for miles and miles and miles...

turn the windows black. lights out. turn the windows black.
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la la la la listen to yourself/go on and on and on as if you're talking to someone else

A man with large eyebrows stood out to her from the cliff, climbing up it with not effort at all. Ven stared at him with little care and little interest. She turned around from the man, crossing her shoulders tight.

"Ha ha," said the man to her as he walked over. "Venny dear, now please, do dance with me here upon this very cliff. For I wish to feel you in my arms, and wish to make you smile." The man held out his hand, placing it right in her line of vision.

There was a sudden blur, like spinning fast and endlessly around and round in circles. Suddenly there was not a cliff. And there was not a man.

Venny stood on a marble floor the glimored in the light. And through the light, Ven could see her face, her usual, meaningless face. The dark, black hair stood on her head, matted and fritted around in mangled curls. Her thin eyebrows, fuzzy, sat meek on her face, dancing up on her eyes. The eyes she saw did not look like her own. In them, through the reflection, she could see herself still standing on the cliff, the man's hand in her line of vision, the careless look on her face.

She smiled from seeing herself in her eyes and began to laugh. Stomping the ground, tears began to run down her face, carless, absent tears; tears that a tree would never cry. Tears that a stolid, unemotional girl like Venny would not cry. And even through her tears, she continued to cry.

She cried because she knew what was going to happen on that cliff, with the man. She knew it well.

The man would put his arms around her, force her to dance while he hummed a beat. And Venny would not want to dance, no she wouldn't. She would tell him no, over and over again. Tell him no until she thought she knew nothing--not even his name.

And she watched this, on the marble floor, through her reflection, her eyes. She say the naive, stupid girl struggle not to dance, and she watched as she knew what was going to happen happen.

The man began frantically grabbing her as Ven finally decided to climb back down the cliff. She paused on the edge, preparing her grappling materials, getting ready to go down as fast as she could. And then she had felt a stern hand grab her shoulder like a thin branch. Suddenly all she could feel was pain and hurt.

As she stared at her reflection in her eye, she could feel the pain. And as soon as the pain came, drops of blood began falling on the marble floor. Drops of pain, of wounds. She couldn't see her reflection any longer as the blood continued to drip. She began walking off, leaving the blood on the ground, the memory of the images in her eyes that she could see.

Suddenly she slipped on the floor, fell on her knees, and her arm fell on top of her head as she felt liquid drip onto her. Venny knew what it was, and looked at it, fixated.

There on her arms stood one of the scars she had gotten from the man. It was large, gashed her entire wrist up to the near end of her arm. It was bleeding freshly, and she looked at it for a long time, still on the ground.

She began picking at it

Pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick

She couldn't stop herself. It felt good to pick it, it was like having an orgasm. Only it wasn't.

The sore continued to grow bigger and bigger. Ven picked off half the scar, then finally, as if she had come out of her fixation, she stood up. She was no longer on a marble floor or looking down in her eyes seeing herself and the man. She was no longer there.

Slowly, cautiously, she rolled over on her bed, feeling around for any human forms. Her hand came over a thick, even-muscled arm. She screamed, and pulled the covers off the arm, revealing the whole body.

There he lay, dead.
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What?

I just realized that my last post had a smiley in its title. I find it funny that I never even intend to click the damned things yet they are always there.

I think it'd be a lot better if they actually did what LiveJournal does with moods. They give you a certain set of faces, and then you select a mood from a whole lot of words. Now that is cool. I also think they should have a music detection thing built in as well.

The point of this post is nothing, really. This is a post I'd rather not post. It just is not me.
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Wednesday, October 22, 2003

   I am too lazy to type up a proper post, so this will do.

Mood: Tightly strained.
Music: Coldplay-The Scientist

It's time to shoot this thread full of some morphine. Relieve the pain by bringing on more pain.

There is a murderer in all of us. Each and every one. We all have the potentialities, we all have the hands and mind and intent to know how to do it.

But it is wrong.

To an understood, logical person, it is. Somewhat.

Imagine one's self as a stupid, meek, unintelligent, unintangible creature. A stupid, dumb thing. Do you think morals would ever come into killing one of your own kind? No, they would not.

It would be what nature's way is--survival of the fittest. This said, if we were reduced to that mental level, we would kill one another if so it was needed, perhaps. I am not even talking cave men intelligence--even they have more intelligence than what I am subjecting.

So is that wrong? Again, our mind says it is. But this is the way things are.

But murder is a worse thing, right? Murder is killing one with intent, with no purpose. This is true. It's cold-hearted, pre-conceived, pre-warmed thoughts of killing an innocent person.

How is this different than wartime deaths? These "soldiers" as they be are given an easier death, at times, than a murderer would admission, but this aside, how is that different? It is people being killed innocently, stupidly, for imaginative borders and controls. It is purposeless, endless, human nature. It is all about control, that is what war is. It is a way to make peace from pieces.

This is what, I believe, one of a murderer's motives is: control. Often, murderers are mentally derranged, hemorraged people that have undergone molestation, beating, large amounts of horrid things, and are even oftentimes forced into practices or purposes. They are often lonely people, people that are socially inept, that are driven by what has driven them all their lives: the constant injustices to themselves that, mentally, have destroyed them.

I think they do it to escape; to escape as any other. Escape as a writer writes to escape. Escape as a pagan dwells incessantly in religion to escape. Escape as an athletle excercises to escape. Escape as any other to escape.

It's like anything; it gets addicting. The feeling gets to more feeding. The need to control someone, to have every inch of them on your hands and life is thrilling to these people I suppose. It gives them something that they've never felt before.

Murders also are obssesed, sometimes, with the way blood and gore feels. The way cutting a person, tearing out organs, feeling them in their hands, feels. Because they find the human body interesting, they find looking at organs interesting. They find how they feel or cling or feel to their touch interesting in a sexual manner as well as an anatomical matter.

They also find the cat-and-mouse game, the dog-eats-dog manner of killing someone thrilling as well.

They do it for many reasons, some I cannot even imagine. But when it comes down to it, the root is in human nature. It is within our natures to warrant death to others. It is within our natures to love seeing others suffer, to love knowing that you are stronger than another and have control.

Let me ask you, what is good? What is bad? All they are is things that, over time, have come into society and mankind showing us what they are.

Bad is good and good is bad. What's bad to me could be good to you. What's good to me could be bad to you. Who has the right to say what is wrong? No one, really. There are certain set interdictions and such, but really, they only coerce another form of control that tells you what is right and what is wrong.

Bad is what's taught to us, as we grow, to be wrong. Good is what's taught to us, as we grow, to be good. Even God says that there's a right and wrong. And if we are wrong, we sin.

I do not see the big matter in sin; all humans shall sin, as much and close to God and being great as they be. It is human nature, just as killing is, just as striving to outlive and be better is. There is not stopping it, and I do not believe I would want to be forgiven for them, either. They are a part of me, for, isn't my human natures a part of me? Certainly.

So I ask you, in a killer's eyes, don't they see what they are doing as right? Don't they think it has some merit, some reason? They do, and if you cannot see this, then you are too narrow.

Each of us has the potential to kill someone, and I'm sure some will not stop at saying that they have wanted to kill someone before.

I do believe in original sin in this form. That we are born with murderers able to be made. Lovers able to love. Hates able to hate. It's just that all the things labeled as "bad" by society, and all other humanly devices forces and shows us what is right so it's to where we take it as literally what good and bad are. That isn't right, exactly, in my opinion.

Has anyone heard of the Donner Party? They are a party that were moving west in the US, and got trapped upon a moutain. They ate each other. Are they murderers? No. They were doing what's in their human natures, surviving. But obviously this isn't the main motive from a murderer.
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Tuesday, October 21, 2003

And now, a word from our poetic sponsor...

of course
id like to sit round and chat
and talk bout this and that
and drivel on bout bats
bleeding ugles they are.

driving is such a sad man
and id like to know who amy thought she was
punching the drunk man at his parade.

were such bats.
batty slapped my knee
shes in love with em
k i s s i n g the f r o g g y.
LOVE IT TILL ITS GONE BABE.
i ant and i sting.
dont ever believe
in fantasies.


dont ever believe
in fantasies.

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The realizations of a banal mind.

Mood: Okay.
Music: Coldplay-Clocks.

As I sat in my last period class of Latin, an amazing thing hit upon my head. It sort of cracked there like an oozing egg, all nasal and stringy, running out of my mind as snot may run from an afflicted nose.

Today is Tuesday, I remembered. Earlier I had come to the obtuse assumption it was Wednesday.

I also came to the realization that I have Thursday and Friday off, thus a full 4-day weekend.

And the clouds burst
to show daylight's hearse.
we drove him to his grave,
the man, who had rottened
from the murderer's hands.

just we have realized
that dirth quench the dead.

so bury him.
let him work his head.

===

Anyways, that just came..hm.

Anyways, I just used anyways for the second time. So anyways, what I'm saying is I just realized tomorrow is my last day of school this week. Ita Vero!

I need to get myself a job, horridly, horrendously, afflictionally, obstintatiously, efferently, effusedly, deluxely, and very, very desperately. So that is what I shall try to do in my two days off. A job.

Wish my luck, indeed.

Before I leave, I believe it would be to my advantageous typings to state some new words which I now love. These words are not english words, and they be Latin; what can I say, Latinos just turn me on.

Eugepae [Oohgepi] means Hooray! in Latin. You know how Tony always says yay? Now I shall say this. Bahaha.

Now...this next word is seriously awesome. First, I must tell thee, thou must say t'is word in a very nasal, congestedly constipated fashion. This word's just like that; it's quite the catharsis.

Eheu [Ehwho] is the word I do speak of. Say it like some preppy english man.

EHWHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Okay, so I senselessly cessationed you on some huge, shitty text. At least you now know how much I love this word.

It means Alas, as in a form of regret. I just say it because it sounds so funny.

Eheu.
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