Fucked up life.

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WARNING

This is a blog post of me bitching about life. If you don't want to hear it, don't read it. You've been warned.

END WARNING

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A few weeks ago, I texted an old friend of mine because she popped up in my thoughts. She said she was where she thought she'd be at this point in her life, and I have to say I agree. I'm at a breaking point right now, myself, and I'm not sure what to do anymore. Here's a list of my current grievances with life.

1. I'm stuck living at home with my parents.
2. Said parents do not have AC, and have not all summer. Texas summers are routinely over 100 degrees, and the nights, though cooler, arn't much better when the insulation keeps the heat from the day inside. In other words, I'm slowly cooking every minute I'm at home.
3. Being overheated all day has caused minor dehydration issues throughout the day, as well as making me feel sick whenever I'm home for more than an hour. As well, being in the heat all the time has severely crippled my appetite, and I haven't eaten more than a few bites of food a day (if anything) in the past month. I've actually lost weight to the point where I need new pants (and I'm already skin and bones.)
4. My laptop hard drive fried, and in order to repair it, I need to buy a new copy of Windows 7, which runs around $200. As well, I lost literally everything - resume, portfolio pictures, personal documents, everything.
5. The majority of my friends have moved to Austin, which, while great for them, leaves me lonely more than I'd like.
6. My California trip, which was supposed to be my graduation present, was postponed again. It was originally planned for June, then got pushed to July, now it's late August/early September. We'll see if it even happens at all.
7. I feel as though I wasted 4 years of my life at college. I am in absolutely no way prepared to work as a professional Audio Engineer. The internship I did did not help and has left me jaded to trying another.
8. My car is in exponentially increasing bad shape. Upon driving home, it has decided it wants to shake violently every time it idles, to the point where I no longer feel as though it's drivable.
9. I will likely have to quit my new job, as it's a delivery job and my car has decided I don't need money right now (it's very, very wrong, I desperately do.)
10. I'm broke, there arn't many jobs coming for Austin, and see above for the problem with my most recent job.
11. I'm completely head over heels for a girl who sees me strictly as a friend, with no signs of that changing. This, perhaps, is nothing new for me, except this girl is in a whole other league than most of the women I've been attracted to in the past. As cliche as it sounds, she makes me want to be a better person, and I'd rather be just friends with her than date anyone else right now.
12. I've lost more friends this summer than I've made, which is awful considering I was actively trying to make friends all summer.

This summer has completely shaken my entire concept of Karma, as I've been nothing but kind and generous with my friends, my family, and strangers. I try not to talk about my problems too much, and hugely appreciate the people who've listened when I do. But, seriously, this isn't right. I'm tired of life stomping and kicking the shit out of me when I've done nothing to deserve it. I just want things to be normal for awhile, not good, not bad, just normal, because this "Let's see what we can do to make Bobby more miserable" game it's playing is shit. Thanks for listening, hit me up on my cell if you want to talk.

END BITCHING

Blacksmith

Copper wire
Golden chain
Silver lining
Full of shame.

Precious metals
Cracked gemstone
Furnace forged
But cast alone.

Stirrup and anvil
Hammer and tong
Blacksmith's err
Though never wrong.

Battle

Chasing demons
Chasing fears
Chasing thoughts you've fought for years.

Stand for battle
Stand your ground
Stand for those who aren't around.

Fight for forgiveness
Fight fair and kind
Fight for solid peace of mind.

Resolve the difference
Resolve your hate
Resolve yourself repair your fate.

Death, regardless
Death is near
Live your life or die in fear.

Rebecca

Vices, vices, everywhere
But not a virtue thought
This fucked up world
This fucked up life
A pretty trinket for the night
Give up your good
Embrace your fault
It's lonely out there on your cross
Let pleasure reign
Cave to desire
Find yourself in squalored splendor
It's just one evening
You will recover
Taste the whip my sweet endeavor.

Word Vomit

Thoughts are cancer
Spreading fast.
Find a cure
Fair physician.

I can't take these thoughts,
I can't stand my mind.
The pills make me mellow
But take away my bite.
I want to be whole,
I want to be at peace.
With myself
With you
With life.

This isn't a life
It's a cry for help,
Unheeded.
Yell from building,
Whisper in ears,
My tragedy is silence,
My salvation buried.

Grab a shovel,
Push the dirt,
Make a stone,
To mark the earth.
I'll come out when I'm ready,
Or die amongst the rocks.

Crystal's clear
And quartz is clouded.
I scream and cry
For rescue unfounded.

But hope is here,
Amongst the rubble,
Shining quaintly,
Tempting loudly,
A reach away,
But I'm too astray
To grasp it all alone.

Lend a hand
or lend an ear.
Help me, please
You'd want the same
And I for you
In a different game
But this is for me
Selfish as it may be
It's not formal
To be normal
So help me please
Before this tomb collapses.

Vanity

Pluck your eyebrows
Pick your teeth
Skin unblemished
Obsolete
Must be perfect
Must be right
Oh you will be quite the sight
When your hair falls out
From too much product
Face in lesions
Tweezers bloody
Skin and bones
And thoughts a'plenty
A worn out shell
Still chasing beauty
Perfect torture
Tortured perfection.

Summertime Blues

Flip-flops
Lemon drops
Taste the summer air.

Face your fears
Retort your jeers
Live life if you dare.

Mostly water
Cannon fodder
Flesh with bits of hair.

Filled with smoke
Until you choke
Pain that you can bear.

Sleep til noon
Talk with the moon
Stars the show they care.

Storytime

Before the humid night turns grey
And the crickets chirp grows mute
Tell me all your favorite tales
Of fancies, follies and pursuit.

Tell me of the massive book
That is your darling life
I'll listen on this sweat soaked bed
With the sun and moon at strife.

Impress me with a fine adventure
Or sadden me with sorrow
The night ends soon and after all
Who know what comes tomorrow?

And with your final graceful lines
The sun's rays break the pane
A final query about my role
Secondary character, or main?

Temptation

Arsenic and Roses
It's such a pretty sight
When you're staring down a barrel
On a long and lonely night

An itchy trigger finger
With an empty fifth of rum
A combination made for kings
A song the beggars hum

This empty night is getting hot
My body growing cold
Its such a shame to walk this path
Escape meant for the old.

Isolation

Isolation is to be stuck in a cage. A cage made of bars. The bars are spaced perfectly apart, so that from any given angle, the opposite side of the cage looks just large enough to squeeze out of. Freedom is just a tight squeeze away, all you need to do is step over to the other side and work your way out. But you can't. It's a petty illusion meant to give you a false hope, so whoever is looking onto your cage can be amused by you chasing the exit. And suddenly, as you cut off circulation to your lower half trying to squeeze through an impossibly small opening, you realize that where you were originally is just slightly wider than your current escape. But it's a lie, the illusion is all around, teasing the condemned.

The cage is the worst form of isolation. It's not because of the limitation of movement, it's because your senses tell you what it's like to be free. You can hear others chatting, your can see friendships forming out of raw air, sometimes, albeit rarely, you can even stretch your hand out and scrape your fingers on the sandpaper of others. The eyes play tricks on you. You see other people crawling from their cages, but you remain faithfully stuck inside yours. This gives you hope. Hope keeps you looking for your escape, but then you see that the others cages were just a single wall, or perhaps a few, and all they had to do was step around them. But your cage is made of six walls - Four on either side of you, a roof, and a floor. You're trapped, but can taste the freedom on your lips.

Hell they say, is what you make it. My hell, it seems, is to be trapped in this cage and watch life around me, while I can only grasp the bars and reach for hands that don't want me.

Morning Dew

Cold air intermingles with a trail of smoke,
Breathing in the morning air with carcinogens.
Bright light teasing behind the dewy trees,
With fog coating the roadways to confuse the morning commute.

Constant shade surrounds me before the sun rises,
Shivering briefly before ignoring the chill.
The chirp of birds is the only music heard,
Interrupted by the crash of a dump-truck feasting on refuse.

The wolves and foxes go into hiding,
Another night of food and frolic past.
Business-suit wearing apes emerge from glass caves,
A firm noose tied around their necks as an invitation to predators.

Paper burns and ash falls to stone,
A leathered foot and morning dew extinguishing it's flame.
And I myself crawl back into my den,
With the wolves and the foxes hiding from the morning light.

December

December has never been a very good month for me. Ever since I can remember, it's always been the month that has the most effect on my emotional state. This is followed closely by January. As such, people who know me are sometimes curious as to why I change so drastically in December - Long story short? I'm not sure. But I can tell you about how I feel.

December is the start of a period of the year where I am highly depressed. I'm not talking sad, or melancholy, or any simply stated emotion, I mean severely and completely depressed. This usually lasts til around mid January, though sometimes crosses into February. I'm not sure of any given cause, it could be the weather change, it could be the drastic reduction of stress from school ending, it may be the simple fact that everyone I'm close to is traveling away until January.

Depression doesn't effect me like most people think. I don't cry, I don't contemplate suicide, I don't do stupid things for no apparent reason. I just lose all motivation. For anything. Going up the stairs to go to bed seems like too much work. Food is in the kitchen, and that's often too much for me to consider eating. Showering? Not likely. And the chances of me making plans to hang out with someone are slim to none. I just cease to care about doing anything, even things I'm highly passionate about. I also become easily agitated. Small things annoy me quickly, and people judging me or not listening to something I have to say quickly get on all my nerves. Similarly, people trying to get me to talk about how I feel annoys me to no end.

Are there reasons I'm depressed? Aside from a chemical imbalance in my brain, yes. I'm consistently low on money, to a point where buying enough food to sustain myself can be difficult (I could ask my parents for money, but I avoid this because I already borrow so much from them, to the point where I feel like a terrible son and person in general.) I'm constantly single, and while it's not hard for me to find someone to share a bed with, I have an extraordinarily difficult time finding someone I connect with on an intellectual and emotional level (I can think of a very small number of people who I think of romantically, and naturally none of these women have the same feelings for me.) My grades are mediocre at best, and I'm always always going to be worried I won't be able to make a sustainable living in theatre, especially considering I can't even get my education in what I hope to do in the future. I don't have many friends, and I know I'm replaceable to all of those that I do have. That is to say, I'm hardly close with even my closest friends, and none of them will be sad when I'm no longer around them. To summarize, I'm poor and lonely and not terribly hopeful for the future.

There's nothing that can change how I feel. I've been on medication, and it does nothing for me (well, it does, I don't feel bad, but my motivations are still entirely lacking.) Similarly, people "showing that they care" has no effect on me, as there's a long history of people who "just want to show they care" and who "will always be my friend" who end up abandoning me entirely by March. It's best to just wait it out. I'll be myself soon enough.

I Want

I want to give you flowers,
Sealed love notes in wax,
With soft candlelight,
Illuminating our dinner.

I want to dance in moonlight,
Holding you tight to my heart,
Breathing in the midnight dew,
Like flies living for the night.

I want to feel the very life of you,
To see your soul in your eyes,
Link souls in an astral chain,
And let the world dissolve around us.

But simplest of all the things I want,
Is for you to see my face unmasked,
For you to know who I truly am,
And want me for yourself.

Heartbreak

Add another name
To the lists of names
That hurt with just an utterance
We loved,
Once
A mutual feeling,
Shared souls linked
Like hands on a Spring morning.

Put the past in a sealed metal box
Protect if from nature
And prying eyes who yearn
To see the world through skewed perspective
The past is sepia toned cellophane
Made music by designers.

Flee not from truth
But the lies we tell ourselves
The life is better off.
We die a bit inside
With heartbreak
A bit which will never recover
We traded stock in each other
Though one party received short.

I'll never be again what I was for you
And you're better off with that part of me.
It was meant for you anyway.

Aphrodite

Musical.
Your words,
Your voice,
Your sweet goodbyes.
Musical.
Praise the silence.

So soft.
Your skin,
Your lips,
Your footsteps as you leave.
So soft.
Run my hand along sandpaper.

Intoxicating.
Your scent,
Your perfume,
The fading aroma on the pillow.
Intoxicating.
Let me breathe.

Delectable.
Your skin,
Your fingertips,
The bitter salt of your goodbye tears.
Delectable.
I crave the tasteless.

Stunning.
Your beauty,
Your anatomy,
Your crying eyes.
Stunning.
Leave me blind,
My fair skinned Aphrodite

Vox

I fell in love with a voice,
Carried by the wind.
Intoxicated by a scent,
That drifted by a breeze.
Gifted with the rarest sight
Of truest beauty, pure.

I fell in love with a voice,
A voice of sweetest song.
She taught the violins to speak,
Inspired envy from the flute.
A vox of saintly melody,
Raining down from heaven.

The breezy words she whispers,
In the distance, travels on.
She'll flow amongst those windy trades,
And grace the earth and sea.
Alas for me, her airy spirit,
Ill matched for my earthbound form

Awake

Awake, awake
Always awake
The sun dawns new
And I'm awake
Awake, awake
Awake

Awake, awake,
The world revolves
The sun spins round
Awake.

Awake I lie
New light breaks free
My eyes burn
Fresh with tears
Awake, awake
Awake.

Sleep is a gift
I cannot unwrap
Though see it
Like a child at Christmas
Out or reach
I'm out of touch
With reality, and dreams
Awake.

Philosophize
Or write a song
Or play a game
It's useless.
Tired of body
Weary of mind
But always
Still awake.

Beyond the Cellar - Part I

After six weeks of monstrous crime, Craig Allistor was caught. My partner, Jon Caleman, and I caught the bastard in the act, personal witness to him abducting the poor ginger child from the street using his cunning “We’ll find your parents” technique. Damn us, though, we needed further evidence, which is why we followed him rather than tagging him there on the spot.

Ten years on the force, and six years partnered together, Caleman and I knew well how to subtly tail a suspect. Neither of us have the obvious scent of a policeman. His cantaloupe-esque figure masked any idea of athleticism, and my painfully dull body and latent balding makes me look as an average accountant. Add in a simple hip flask to the formula, and together we gain the appearance of two old college chums, a merry night of drinking and smoking from pipes behind us, walking home to some horrid flat one of us has.

Nonetheless, Allistor was a careful predator. He casually dragged his target along the alleyways and subtle crossings of the city, and we had to lose sight every so often in order to not give ourselves away. Even so, we sometimes looked questioningly at each other. Sure, he was walking into an area noone would suspect, the most ancient and unused portion of the city, an area long abandoned by the whole of the population for fear of their own safety.

The old factory district, abandoned in the early 20s, when new factories, far superior to these, were built in neighboring town. These eventually shut down entirely, leaving the factories themselves, as well as the housing for the prominent workers, to rot silently. It was one of these houses, probably belonging to an a floor supervisor in the antique past, that Caleman noticed Allistor led the redheaded child into. I pocketed my flask quickly and switched it ably for my service revolver.

We rushed to the nearest payphone at once, planning to call the station to dispatch more footmen to our position. Backup is always appreciated, after all, and who knows what tricks Allistor has in the moldy building which could be his personal dungeon. It was useless though, despite our coin, a dial-tone could not be reached. It had been upwards to three dozen years since these had likely been cut-off, a useless cost of electricity to the city, same as the street lamps which no longer burned.

With no tone, it was obvious there would be no backup for us this route. Briefly, Caleman and I discussed the probability of heading back to station and returning immediately. Having caught a bullet earlier in the year, Caleman was wary to go in to the building in such small numbers, fearing the same might occur again. I, however, felt it unneeded in this case, and leaving the innocent child alone with this man for as long as it may take to hustle back and gather a larger posse could only be detrimental to his health. As well, I feared he would have fled long before we managed to get back with aid. Being his senior, I concluded that we would play the situation by the book, and handle the situation professionally.

Had I let him go for aid, perhaps we would have never walked up those decrepit steps, and perhaps my mind would not be filled with the thoughts I cannot escape.

(Original date 7/23/2010)

In the Movies

Noone's ever made a movie
About a group of young adults
Who travel across the country
In search of adventure
And fun, and bonding,
But end up getting dead-end jobs
Which pay less than minimum
And slowly starve themselves
Out of necessity
And end up hating everything.

The script would be too sad.

(Original date 7/21/2010)

Flee

I moved the mirrors
So you'd go away
Nocturnal night gaunts
Glaring from unknown

I saw you once
Long past twilight hour
Judging with you glance
At miserable mass of man

Taunt me nightly
As tears stain fabric
Scold my mistakes
As a mother a child

Once we were one
My ghost, my tormentor
Apart from me now
I can't bear your touch

Inside me deep
You wait to strike
To remind me completely
Of current transgression

Fleet of foot
And feeble of mind
I moved the mirrors
To avoid myself.

(Original date 7/20/2010)