Wednesday, July 13, 2005

The Chronicles of a Stranger: Suspended Chronology.
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The world is changing…
We can’t all see this change but to me it is so clear that it starts to become scary. I see people at ease, living their daily lives in comfort that everything is just normal. But something is amiss in the ever-present wind.
I can feel the change just as the wind flows through my hair. I taste the impending danger…
Maybe I’m just being paranoid; it’s a flaw that I’ve suffered from since I was very little. I never believe I can trust anybody…I have the fear that I will always be stabbed in the back, its happened every time I let my guard down. I built a wall around me and don’t let anybody inside. Someone I knew in high school once told me “hey we’re friends” after I had told him that I didn’t have any, then I replied “we’re just two guys that hang around one another sometimes, we don’t talk nor even have any social interaction at all” he then said “but that still makes us friends”, I promptly replied “the only thing that makes us friends is the fact that we aren’t enemies”.
I accept who I am…maybe I’m just waiting for someone to backstab me so I can further convince myself that I have no one. The complexities of my mind spur on enigmatic notions…people just don’t understand what’s going on inside me, not even the shrinks can understand.
I am running away from a problem that I don’t want to fix. I don’t feel fear the same way everyone else does; the only fear I do have is to be lonely…ironically it seems that I live a life of fear.

My world is changing…
I am starting a new world and I fear what is to come, I always believed I was so strong…all others did as well. It’s not easy becoming a one, leaving all you know to start something of complete oddity to you.
I find myself drinking much more these days…people are afraid when they smell the remnants of single malt whisky on my breath. Its not that I like drinking, it’s just that I have so much on my head at the moment, strange that a large aspect is my future. I hate alcohol, but it puts my nightmares at ease and it keeps me warm when I am alone and the days are cold. All I need is the touch of warm hands…like when I was a child and my mother used to hold me in her arms…her soft hands were smooth as marble yet so lovingly warm like the rays of the sun on a warm spring day.
Those days are gone now.

The blood pours from my mouth,
On my hands I see those teeth.
The ones that I lost…

At first I didn’t understand those dreams,
But now all seems to be so much finer,
As though the course see salt was ground to refined grains,

Triple schemes seem the order of the day,
But the nightmares all come from the heart and black,
So none of the writings seem important,

Old dreams of obscurity come to haunt me once again.
They won’t leave,
I don’t expect them to either,

But to my heart where the wolves feast,
Those ones make the burn all the greater,
The glass isn’t empty…


Seems like my poetry is has taken a bit of a fall in quality whereas my art takes leaps and bounds, even though I lack the right inspiration,
All I think of is her…

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