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| Look past the misaligned freckles, the oversensitive nose, and the translucent mustache solely to find that all my chapters begin and end the same as the ones that preceded. It raises the question "does he perpetually stay still intentionally?" No, this is not my sole intention. I have a longing for my life to be a certain way, and though I strive for it, I get nowhere. I have been stuck in the same spot for 4 years. Paralysis- a state of helpless stoppage, inactivity, or inability to act. "trembling idle hands holding me there" (A) -D
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| My wonderwall collapsed, throwing bricks at this skeletal being once made of stone. The rescue workers and construction crews are rubbing their absense into the pale skin covering this skull. The night preceding this day was endless, dragging on for weeks, only leading to despair crawling out of unnecessary reflections. Despair disguising itself as a troll that hides in the caverns of the mind, only coming out when deemed necessary. But by whom? Only itself. No being can trust trolls, not even themselves. The star of our solar system, ineptly named the sun, decided to take a stroll along the course of this wednesday. Glorious? almost. A bitter cold chill lingers at the ankles. Only at the ankles, abusing the marrow, marrow is weak. So are we.
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| Its 10:41 am and the nicotine hangs softly in the air of this brightly lit springtime apartment facing north, peeking its face at the golf course. A place of elegance, quality outings, and bullshit attempts at feeling important in this world. The most beautiful sounds in all my life are gracing my face and dancing merrily in the hallways leading to my eardrums. The morning has handed me it's vivid colors, inducing deep reflections on the less than satisfying start to two thousand and seven. Though I have been more than content with my unconventional life, there is a struggle in the cranium of my framework, which has survived twenty years of wear. There are thoughts pounding at the westward side of my skull that rattle my bones with the frail hands of unsettlement. There is an oak tree outside that offers kind words by means of its sheer awe-inspiring beauty. And let it be known that I'm a sucker for enlightening words of comfort. Beauty. The lone oak has a full tank of it, dead limbs and all. Part of this incredible creature has died off and yet it is still so very captivating. It will unfold new chapters with every new branch sprouting from its strong body so full of heart. Two thousand and seven, I have lost limbs and grown new ones. Content: to be satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else. Content: a place that this soul has desperately needed to be for so long. I have my golden ticket.
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| Intergalactic Bargaining
Dear star, you havent quite burned out yet. Your wounded limbs and sightless eyes make you my favorite. Every wish thats escaped my carousel mind has been addressed to you. We can take them, i'll bring once useful limbs and you supply the soul my friend. We'll take them down. Hey kid, you aren't quite dead yet. Your heartless shell and perseverance make you my favorite. I got all your letters, I wish I could read them with my molten eyes. Star I must confess my will to push on fades as I suffocate more with change. Please I beg of you, clear my lungs, heart and control tower of this rotting disease and i'll construct your new limbs. | | |
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