ah the day, of many things, and so few.. the sun stopped scourging my stomach with a heated sickness, and now the clouds are here, setting my mood to a mellow happiness.. my insecurities with my dear love myka are draining from me, with the rest of the bile of past mistakes. and now i am set to love. being optomistic with the whole thing. prior to our meeting she had been with others (not meaning in the form of sex), causing that bitter taste of jelousy when i here such a thing. but greedy it does seem of me.. for she is such an amazing being, and how could i be the only person to experience the bliss of her soul gripping kiss.
and thus my words die with not a thought of anything else to say
so much to do in these rooms of my mind, though they only seem empty, an energy of unseen array fills them like the lungs of a chain-smoker. my soul consisting of only love and infatuation, with not a taste of the vile liquids of hatred. on the room's door of my mind, a ticking beats it, it's a knock that follows the ticking of my mental clock. it never ceases, and never fades even a bit, untiring, this arm which pushes the fist to strike, forever it longs to enter my room, but on the other side of this door, there is no knob. not so rude as to barge in, this who is greater than a mere man on the other side. with a soft voice the figure of a man asks to enter, for he doesn't want to be just a guest, he wants to live in this room with me. though this room is filthy and tainted, the walls are pealing of there white paint. numerous holes in the cieling where the unhealthy waters from the rising fog will drip in. the figure on the other side says he will clean everything of this house of my mind. but see, my love. there's a house in my mind, full of horror to find, of things to make you wish you were blind. in these closets you'll find the rotting corpses of all my attempts to living in love. however there is one to keep, she's always there, but then not. at times a solid being which i can curess and kiss, but other times, she is only a memory, as a untouchable figure which is embrace with an incontacting hug when i'm only hugging air. but this love i will never let go. but that whom constantly nocks at the door of my chamber, has no intentions of disrupting me and my lover. the strange things of memories. you usually don't remember things that happen frequently. it's the unique qualities of the event which one remembers, and thinks back on, in a memory living something quaint, such a thing never grows old and frail of interest. and on lifes yellow brick trail, what we spend a life seeking is only something we'll get after we die. but in life we find a piece of heaven, which is far from material things, it is in love we find the essence of divinity. but i wonder if this lack of trust that keeps clawing at my soul has any meaning behind it. maybe it is my connection with this person, burning with agony to my heart as this love of my is being unfaithful. or maybe i'm just crazy. there is a time in every persons life were insanity intoxicates ones soul.
the human being is a creature capable of limitless compassion, and unfathumable cruelty. each one is no less than the other since they are all capable of greatness. incompatence shows nothing of their being, if they fail for once, that doesn't mean they are expendable. just having a soul means you have complete freedom. if they do nothing in their life that doesn't mean they are weak and never will rise.
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A silence unto the other side of these words, it is intolerable, driving me quite insane in my vim of irritation.But you when you truly listen, somehow there’s always a sound.Sometimes it’s just a ringing in my ears, probably from all the noise I listen to in the noisy day, consisting of hellish screams of whatever that artist is expressing, wile plucking strings, beating metal cans and tearing at the throat on the verge of a collapsing vocal box.And I find this noise to be quite beautiful.Since my parental is sleeping, I’m not able to express my own terrible screaming of the lyrics burned in my thoughts, that of the band Emmure, whom could have quite a lot of meanings within just one line of a song.‘What shall we name our dead son’giving birth to a pile of dead through something they had done.His loves relationship perhaps bore of something lamentable, which she looks on no more.
My a.d.d. causes me to go off subject.My love, my darling, she had inspired me to write a sort of blog thingy from the reading of hers.A beauty of mangled words from her spewing thoughts into what words could speak, however thoughts are too complex for words, this is why the whole display of Parkman in Heroes’ power is an incorrect display of what it would be like to read someone’s mind, for he is hearing words, as if they were speaking in their mind, and sometimes there is more than that going on.There are images, playing, within little clips of the imagination in the background.Quite like in the movie The Tracy Fragments, where on the screen it had a couple of little screenings of other things, like something in the past, animated for a short time, somebody in the same room that was catching her uneyed attention, and also her imagination, of something that she wished for, something that was running through the nerves of emotions at that precise moment.Makes one think in a way, acknowledge more of what it is, that’s within your current state of mind.
Soo, once upon a time, not so long as but a couple of years ago, the devil was quite bored, as torturing peoples souls with lies wasn’t enough.The little saint bitch decided to start an internet service, and since he happens to like irritating people, he made this internet services a frequently tweaked out system, it works for the first months of your commitment, and then it turns into something slower than dial up, to where the point you give up and smash the modem, or just quite the service and pay two times a hundred dollars for this divorce.Yes, and bearing with a cheapy Linksys router, it creates something not even worth trailing.This internet service is called Clearwire.The bars of light on the top of the modem will be indecisive of where they want to shine of their pest of a green, one bar, two, maybe five, then gives up and starts running in a circle of lights as it resets itself, tweaking out, doing this every so five minutes.Only one month to go with this devil of an internet.Five hundred and fourty seven words of nothing in particular. And in so, I am getting quite irritated with myself.However I’m quite insidious when it comes to the internet.This isn’t how I really am…except I don’t really know who I am.I wouldn’t say I’m a monotonous person, thus if I was I would force myself to change.There is a lot of people that are close to the same, they smoke and fuck a lot, a tendency to bitch, and read the lives of celebrities, maybe they have an ounce of good intentions within their sorry lives, that leaves them pregnant on the streets, rejected by her boyfriend, whom she so attentively fucked.
Incidentally I have more of an attention to the opposite sex, and my absorption of the things I ponder, causes me to be more feminine.
My overpowering interests cause me to be quite rude, perhaps creepy, as I peak through my window, watching a bit of the situation across the street at my neighbores house.Talking to someone, the dark clothes this figure in black, so I can’t tell if its her boyfriend whom she just split up with.
For now, I give up my ramblings of lost thought for another day.fair thee well, people whom read this blog who don’t really exist.And if you do, congratulations on tolerating the reading of seven hundred twenty five words.
one thing i can not stand, is hearing people argue. most people will do it in anger to get across their point, and are a little to blind to the other side. i'm all too much for peace. the people here were mainly arguing about the truth of the bible i think. trust that they've never read it if someone says its just a book of fairy tails. sins are sins because they lead to bad things. its the lack of love which is the true sin. how could one affect the past by what they do in the future without means of time travel. i'm planning on adding something of that in my novel. speaking something of love. if there is no guilt involved in the wrongs i do, i won't come any better. why would i want to be released from the weight of evil. in that i would forget about it, and so easily do it again. guilt his a way of helping us to perfect our flaws. it shows we have a sense of humanity. so in a way, guilt has saved the world from distruction. that horrible feeling of killing something, is what keeps it from happening again. as like with your body, pain is what helps you not fall apart. today, i have gotten closer to being angry. strange that it be when it's cold out, and heat has not oppressed my brain. irritation mostly, however that's too much. i think its video games. i grow irritable with them.
