Kaleidoscope in Sockets

journal

I need to get on here more. I barely ever write. And now I feel like my creativity is lacking. I also need to read. I need to make this my online, public journal with pictures and stories and a voice. next step is to take pictures of my favorite things, favorite hobbies, and   favorite times and start posting some of my favorites.

today and tomorrow.

I can’t let any of this pass.

I won’t let any temptations ruin what I have.

This is the closest thing I have to family,

even though we are so distant.

Although it’s so hard for me to talk,

although it’s so hard for me to look up,

I feel like this is the closest thing I have to home.

And I won’t let anything get in my way.

And I won’t let anyone take this from me.

This is my most peaceful place, my most humble and comfortable time,

Although I’m to uncomfortable to talk much,

although I’m too scared to say much,

this is the best thing I have to a life.

Open your Mind (unfinished)

I’m tired of seeing pictures.

Pictures of this new age shit I just want to see what’s on your mind.

Don’t get me wrong I love to see the poetry of the eye but I want to hear what’s inside of you.

What’s inside of me and what’s inside of you and what’s inside of humanity.

As humans what we are capable of what beauty our minds can come up with from underneath, what culture has brought for us to think and how to live.

I want to hear your soul. Spill it out and let it leak to me. Let it stain my shirt and soul I want to breathe to it, I want to breathe in every weep and every gasp I want to feel what you have felt. I want to think I want to know what it is that you are knowing. And I want to believe and see what your eyes and world is perceiving.

Open your mind. Open your mouth with a pen and open our eyes with your words. Open your soul up to us and let us sleep in dreams of what you’ve inspired us to believe. Let us awake to find that nightmares are no longer there but dreams are now what we are living, no longer in our sleep but in our reality whether it be peace or it be harmony or it be the cruel truth of this life we live in. I want to know and feel you and want to know how we as humans perceive this life this breathe this place we hate or love that we call home or hell.

Open your mind with the words that you search for and understand what truely makes you unique and discover what really haunts you, and what you love the most and what you desire to be, and have, a world when family comes first and career is something you don’t hate but love and enjoy and something you speak of like it’s so oddly unique but you still love what you do. It’s an honor or truth or something you know will change the world just by you being you.

Please people open your minds and bloom for the world to see and appreciate the beauty and have another epiphany to what we are made of and why we are here for

g'morning.

I can’t smile in the morning, I won’t.
And if I try to, it’s awkward,  crooked, and weird.

I can’t breathe in the morning,  I just can’t.
And if I try to, it’s rough, horse, and unpleasant to hear.

I can do many things during the day, but a morning person, that’s just not me.

scene

How was I supposed to answer that?

I told her that I was hungry, because I am.

But I don’t want to eat, because I can’t.

That feeling you get when you’re depressed just came back up again, bubbling in my upper abdominals.

I didn’t feel like doing anything. Not much, but lay down, preferably in a dark room, and just stare at the wall.

When I asked her what I could make out of bread, she had a wonderful suggestion that would surely satisfy my hunger, but when I started to make myself my meal, my hunger was pushed aside and I no longer felt the energy to do anything, to make my food, to eat it, even to have an appetite, all I knew was that I was hungry, but I didn’t even want to eat anymore.

At least depression will help me lose weight.

I love you... I love you not.

I think I’m in love.

I think I still love you.

But I don’t know for sure.

I always want to see you.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

But when a time of romance or fantasy arises in a pleasant day dream, it is ruined.

I am turned off, appalled, squeamish.

I think I still love you.

I know I want to kiss you.

But whenever a romantic fantasy is played with you in mind, the film burns to ashes, and blows away in my mind.

I think I love you, but I can’t be too sure.

I know I can’t help but think of you, when I think of relationships.

But I know when I think of romance, a topic I can wait for finally, I get sick, disgusted, if it’s with you.

I don’t know why.

I wish it were simple.

I just want to be with you.

But not.

(Thinking isn’t good enough, I must know.)

(Listening to Jenova for classical piano)

*gulp*

Does life really have to be this scary? Or is this just in America?

love spell

How,

Why do I burn for you in my veins?

Your face is my very own personal ecstasy.

It isn’t even an injection; you’re my sick virus running through my body, my blood, my veins.

And you’re calling me, and I’m hearing you in my mind.

You’re pulling me under and you’re raping me in my sleep.

You say my name and it echoes through the city

All the pills I take won’t stop the way you’re haunting me.

You’re haunting me, haunting me, haunting me, in a good way.

And it feels so good; this possessed chick is feeling so fine.

Just fine because this possessed, obsessed chick wants my nightmares to become dreams coming true.