Copied this straight from my blog. It seems to be something that causes me to write an unnatural amount. It exhausted me to write, but whatever comes will come.

I also noticed that it makes me sound like I'm trying to sound smart. Honestly, though, I don't understand the crap that flies out of my insensible mind. Enjoy?


March 7th, 2010

Oh, sweet, sad life,
the unending painstakingly, difficult decisions
that I must suffer at the hands of cruel fate,
and the manipulative watchers,
which wherever they are,
watch and cheer me to insanity,
as I close my eyes each night,
let them appear and disappear at their will,
while I wilt and fade at my own expense.
And they, those cruel creatures,
smile and dance a sinful tune.

I've known years and days and light,
and been taught all that is well-common in our so-called reality,
and in this I've found nothing,
not a single piece of proof to ebb me on,
in this wasteful search that cannot leave me,
as if I were swimming, in the endless sea.
I hold not onto driftwood,
as a "sane" human would,
but to the millions of particles of salt in the water,
pray that they keep strength,
put belief that they, can hold me up.

And to whom shall I disclose my foolish religion,
While miles upon miles of death lurks by,
While their unending clutch on life,
Makes a mockery of my whimsy, shameful ways.

I do not attest to truth, and strength,
Nor do I plead a good sanity of mind,
I only ask, why the reason,
Why the details and nitpicking,
Of harmless, calm and nurturing nature,
When all it could cause if a rupture in balance,
A breaking of my own frail living.

I have known no cause of hate,
But felt it nevertheless,
I have seen good and bad,
But worse will come, just yet.

Give me something to feel,
Something that I can place trust in.
A lurid domain of hell and silent pain,
Which you cannot see or understand, sits at my feet.
I feel what no one else will dare to feel,
What only the accursed can see,
And why, you may ask me,
Would I choose a life of hardly living,
And I will only watch you,
In your trepidation of the unknown,
Your closed off marketed, high-end built society,
A bubble of simple truths and faults.

Reason. The one thing that detests me,
Has left me long ago. And now I see,
But with only half the sight,
Twice the scent and all the sound.
Tell me, now;
Am I right or wrong?