Tuesday, January 25, 2005

I am my own stress ball

Can no longer remember why am I so pissed. There are things so out of control the mind rejects access an idea. So sensitive that your own system shuts off. So intense that your world explodes into pieces. Leaving you bloodied and helpless. No, I can no longer remember why I am this mad. Apart from being beaten by a thought, I was murdered by time. Yeah, time isn’t on my side. It stalked me and then stabbed me I wasn’t even fighting. I was just passing by.
No, I’m not fighting anymore. I am tired of fighting all these years and I got exhausted of losing every piece of me. It is futile. I can no longer hold my will. I am stupid. I am a coward. Courage have left me a long time ago, there’s none left in me anymore. I’m so sorry thought you would notice how I am losing myself as I was losing you. Thought you would see how I am changing in every second that I have fought for years. How I wished these sentiments weren’t true. But these things are as true and as real as you and me.
In a world so lost, I have changed between love, lies and anger. I have lost my battle before I even started. I have lost you the day I met you.

Sunday, January 16, 2005

The Old Man and His Dog -Author Unknown

An old man and his dog were walking along a country road, enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to the man that he had died. He remembered dying, and realized, too, that the dog had been dead for many years. He wondered where the road would lead them, and continued onward.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall, white arch that gleamed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He was pleased that he had finally arrived at heaven, and the man and his dog walked toward the gate. As he got closer, he saw someone sitting at a beautifully carved desk off to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, but is this heaven?"
"Yes, it is, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The gatekeeper gestured to his rear, and the huge gate began to open.
"I assume my friend can come in..." the man said, gesturing toward his dog.
But the reply was, "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."
The man thought about it, then thanked the gatekeeper, turned back toward the road, and continued in the direction he had been going. After another long walk, he reached the top of another long hill, and he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate. There was no fence, and it looked as if the gate had never been closed, as grass had grown up around it. As he approached the gate, he saw a man just inside, sitting in the shade of a tree in a rickety old chair, reading a book. "Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water?"
"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there," the man said, pointing to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in and make yourself at home."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.
"He's welcome too, and there's a bowl by the pump," he said. They walked through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a dipper hanging on it and a bowl next to it on the ground. The man filled the bowl for his dog, and then took a long drink himself.
When both were satisfied, he and the dog walked back toward the man, who was sitting under the tree waiting for them, and asked, "What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"This is heaven," was the answer.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "It certainly doesn't look like heaven, and there's another man down the road who said that place was heaven."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates?"
"Yes, it was beautiful."
"Nope. That's hell."
"Doesn't it offend you for them to use the name of heaven like that?"
"No. I can see how you might think so, but it actually saves us a lot of time. They screen out the people who are willing to leave their best friends behind."

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

Carry this Picture -Dashboard Confessional


I'll carry this picture for luck.
Kept in your locket, tucked in your collar, close to your chest.
Make it a secret shown to the closet friends.
Meet me at quarter to 7.
The sun will still shine then at this time of year.
Well head to the inlet and we'll share a bottle there
And color the coast with your smile.
Its the most genuine thing I've ever seen.
I was so lost and now I believe.
And follow me south of the big docks with the big boats,
And tether the boats with rich men revere are so important.
They hire our fathers to steer.
And down to the edge of the water, We'll spill our guts and we'll leave our
fears.
I'll give you this picture and keep it and don't be scared,
And color the coast with your smile.
Its the most genuine thing I've ever seen.
I was so lost and now I believe.
I believe in the coast.
Your smile its the most genuine thing I've ever seen.
I was so lost and now I believe
Now I believe

Monday, January 10, 2005

who killed my star?

I crossed beneath the moonlight of a dark shadowed world.
Helpless and unseen, how I imagined that I was emptied by thoughts of you.
Sleepless and wasted, my mind got twisted only fear comforts the dreaded
monster inside me. Looking for tracks that you left behind, leaving me altered
by whispers blown by the wind of time. And then I realized I could no longer
exist in this forgotten world, filthy ashes of mem’ries yesterday leaved
behind. Unlocking the doors of forgiveness, unlighted and me being deceitful.
Who fucking killed my star?
A voice can never travel the borders of fear, of time and
millions of spaces in between. Glimpses of a satellite traversing the universe
of fools, how can I get hold of thee? For I badly wanted to be free. Beam me
into another space where I can breathe, where my sense would swell of
fragrances of lilac and chamomile, where trees blown by luck and grown out of
happiness, a place serving death to anger and madness.