falling

It is 4 in the morning. The tv is on but the sound is low. The fan blows on level three keeping it nice and cool in my room."Click click click click" then "tap tap tap tap" on the window by my feet. I think it is the tv, but it is something far worse than any fictious program. What is tapping on the outside of my window is desperation. She is dressed with the stench of her past that has now threatened the spring-time of her new forms and shapes; colors and draperies. Yes, she is form-fitted and ready to pursue one of her last momentary lapses of consciousness; this one is item number B14732. Tonights episode is "The love triangle, so now what?"
I get to hear how she has once again betrayed her true love by opening her legs up to another woman. I tell her,"Now listen, you need to think about the bigger picture that hangs on the wall of infinity." She quits her bitching for a second, loads up her right arm as if to hit something, and then proceeds to kick me in the balls as hard as I have ever been kicked before. I fell gasping for air. I could see the light and hear the music. It was truely magnificent and I was prepared. Anything was better than the pain I had at that moment in time.
She yelled,"Oooh, hey, are you ok?" How could I speak, I was a dead man. She fell to her knees as I started turning blue. She kept saying,"stay with me, breathe, breathe!" I finally caught some air and began to breathe. I needed to check and see if I could still pee so I walked slowly and with great pain to the side of the building nearby to see if there was still a jingle to my jangle. There was no success and my life was forever changed and all because I said she needed to look at the infinitive picture or something like that.
I still hear the sound of her foot impacting with great force some things that are very near and dear to me. I still hear the tapping noises in my sleep.To this day if I hear anything that resembles those sounds, I will fall to the ground like a freshly cut tree in the forest.

i push myself away

Never alone you desire to be. You want, you want, you want. Never more alone shall you be than when you fulfill your self fulfilling prophecy. Inside you know there is emptiness. Inside you know there is no body that can help you; the shield is too strong and has far too many bricks and blocks to take down. Your design is such that you can never be happy. Your desires, your wants, are of social design far removed from self. You have become an animal only to be measured by those who seek fulfillment on the big stage. The stage inside is of no consequence as you put yourself together for your daily roles and rituals that take you further and further away from you. 98.2 LLC

How fucking sad is that?

unhappy-by design

The systemmatic voices viewed in disarray limit our capacity, cage our minds, and our souls become sore from shots taken. Because we never allow ourselves full committment to any one thing in particular, we find ourselves seeking tranquility from awkward spots that are not accomodating in design for the often untravelled road of suspects. The suspects are people who seek their personal fulfillments in life that often run contrary to what is considered the norm. The backlash created by those who have not the courage to do the same is often wordy, misguided, and sad.
Never seek advice, or take it, from someone who has never had the balls to be the person they really want to be. These are the real suspects and they do more damage from their dark spots than anyone could ever do from places of designed light.
The systemmatic voices inside our heads are designed for a specific purpose; but the purpose is to take, use, and misuse the void created by our everlasting desire to look better than we feel inside. The emptiness is created by the systemmaticness of our culture and our desire for more stuff-by design. Most people are suspects because they have at the ready, prepackaged excuses for their actions. This is what sad people do and this is why they all walk together and remain vigilant in their desire to be unhappy-by design.