The Sound Of Noise

It’s been a while.

After reading enough literature to know that the perception within a human is entirely up to him, I’ve started taking it upon myself to revive the flow of life. So now, when driving down the same road, at the same stop where I should rest on the break, I’ve found myself taking my feet off completely. My arms and legs are becoming less and less existant and slowly I’m realizing what it really means to be human. What it really, truly, means to be a perception. When asleep I now remember things. My dreams are more vivid than ever and soon, with continual practice, I’ll be able to perceve in those as well. Eventually, my conscious will always be breaking the horizon and my reality will self-actualize. I can almost taste life. Like when the memories of skys overhead loom closer to my chest and I yearn for the hairs on my neck to singe. Soon. Soon is all I can say. 

The times long before.

So here we are again. I never thought I would be on the other end. You spoke a lot of what I had to prove, or what feelings weren’t prevalent, but a gravity cradled what I thought it really meant. Your words. Unrequited. I could read what you wrote, beyond letter by letter. Yes, I was hesitant. When have I ever not been? Because I knew it could end one of two ways, but surly it would end. Never before had we kept it up like we did once. It was my turn this time: for you to turn away from me instead. Where now my ghost could hang in remorse; me not be the one to have a sudden revelation or reprise an old relationship. I’m glad, if this makes you happy, that you’ve found love and happiness. I am really busy. I work everyday hoping that eventually I’ll be able to come home and see someone who has always cared about me, even when I wasn’t willing to care about her. I guess it’s my turn to toil. I remember what this feeling is like, letting someone in that slightly had been for granted only because you wished a sense of strength. If you gather your blessings too soon, it’s likely you will be withheld or abused. As ridiculous as it sounds, I’ve learned the lesson over and over. Only now it’s because I couldn’t deliver everything instead of being without reason. I mean, it’s obvious I caused this but to what extent could I have saved it, really. I owe it to you and I hope one day I could find you when you’re back again to a place where I am. I’ll be here waiting, just like you were for me. Thanks for your strength. I understand why you were short now, so if after your race you don’t feel the need to call, I’ll get it. But if it’s any consolation, I hope the location of this becomes a testament to it’s authenticity. To show you that in this very moment, that at the greatest of places you wished to dwell, you dwell here now. And even when darkened by the weight of every letter, it is nothing but a place of endearment. If anyone should know this, it’s you.

And there; that void.

It was whimsy the way I remember childhood. Like skipping, and dancing. Those things one thought they did in hindsight as acts of artistic nature. Perusing earth like you’ve known it all before. A picture plastered without motion but that slightly tilts in the minds eye and taunts the beholder. To wonder if maybe then you found a greater feeling in what stare you gave. The pictures still, to this day, drift. A maybe, when I’m looking with a gaze of giants, in a mind unlike what i’m feeling now, I’ll relive them. At least, that’s what I was told. Wasn’t it the same for you? Remember the pictures in your forehead? Remember the times you and that boy, that girl, skipped across the street together? Wasn’t it dreamy? Just work for us. Will give you money so someday you can do that again. You can live as a child and those things you saw, those worlds now foreign to your environment can become inhabitable. But to live it everyday; they scoff like it was unintended. To wish that everything you do could bring about joy appears not only vain, but filled with ignorance. It makes me wonder why though. I mean, for what reason does it mean you’re dumb? What other reason do we have to live?

I once saw a post stating that the only reason to live is for happiness, at the time I thought the post was ridiculous. What many other things are there to live for and you madam have only skimmed the surface you petulant idiot. Happiness is what comes next; following the purpose you exist. So smart one of this age, then answer the question. Well, I couldn’t. I’m more stubborn, hard headed, ignorant, idiotic, than the most of those who wished nothing but happiness. Only now did I relate. Success? Philanthropy? No, those are only to bring happiness. Those are only to stimulate what your senses please the most. To prick the feelings and provoke a response. Mowing the lawn is perfect for show. Why else would one continuously grow and then sever a body to then create uniformity; a pleasant sight at the eyes of others. This marks my property and here begins my existence. A neon light of capitalism stating, “open for business.” A lawn, unshaven, shows no grasp of happiness only by humans. I’m sure the grass would rather indulge in itself rather than your eyes. 

Regardless, one day it will move to the void. When happiness is gone without reprise or remorse. We’ll all, all, one day feel it. So just hold on. By then, you won’t even know.

Those pretentious people in class…

…should probably shut up. Don’t try an act like a visionary in a general ed class. You now little more than others in the room; just because you state the obvious doesn’t mean you’re smarter than those who noticed it and didn’t feel it was necessary to point out.

Shut. The. Fuck. Up. 

Keys

When reminding myself there might be a possibility that I have something different to offer the world, I’m also reminded of the 7 billion others who think the same thing. It’s not likely I’m anything different from others, to think so would be mildly offensive. I lose possessions often, both figuratively and literally, my keys were no exception. In drunken stupor, I find myself wishing my attention to return, not a likely sight in the eyes of the lost. A night filled with wild and the unfortunate lust of a $2.50 Pabst kept me on my the umbra of thought. Yeah, I was pretty fucked up. When I left, I really didn’t know what my field of vision was rendering. Blackness became tangible on my lips; I knew what they meant now. My feet flew to the air and I was carried. By who, I don’t know. I didn’t know where my phone was. Frankly, I didn’t care. Not until I left did I realize that the jingle I had taken notice of before hand was gone. A noise I normally wouldn’t give two fucks over but now it meant the world. Now getting home didn’t matter because I couldn’t get in. I handed my hunger, dispair, and rancid self over to the care of a roommate, who faithfully encouraged me that the loss of my keys was more important than my current lust for J.J.
      The next morning, after a desperate attempt at soberness with several bottles of water, I woke to the failure of a migraine. Eight a.m. had never more cordially given me a, “Fuck you” before it had that morning. So, now’s the time I’m supposed to start caring about my keys again, right? But my dehydration was the only thing my lips could think of. A moment in class; a moment in another; and, in another, I was home. Bam Shazam…yeah, not really. What could I describe my keys of? What was on the key chain other than keys? The orange McD’s tag, of course. So to everyone I asked I gave the self-conditioned response of, “They have an orange McDonalds tag on them???” Seemed sufficient at the time. 
     My friend had suggested maybe I had lost them in the wave of lips. Well, I hadn’t checked so it was likely. He gave me the email and before I knew it I was desperately, yet professionally, asking for any information they could give.
     So to save you the trip to the Lost and Found, I found my keys. What was worse: I was describing them all wrong. No one noticed the McDonalds tag; the logo had since washed off and was barely noticeable. The only way people had identified it was the associate Rite-Aid tag labeled on the keys. Though, predictably, I had noticed the fading logo of a family attribute attached to my precious keys, I hadn’t noticed what directly associated with myself. I couldn’t convince others those were my keys.

Relaxed in Recognition

Breathing at night is somewhat stagnate unless my body says so. The pull from my lungs doesn’t reach out all the way. I can feel the air passing through but I can’t quite feel the entrance. Leaves me wondering, you know? Anyway, so tonight was difficult. A lot has drifted from sights of excitement. Everyone kind of dug that hole. The hole near the end of the semester the rides out when you’re barely watching. All the fun gets to ya. You start wondering if the laughter you hear through your dorm halls is real. Around twelve, you know its not. Well me, my shoulders hurt. Resting on them, the words worth hours of work really puts a burden on the muscle. Ah, but I’m better for it now. All the weary thoughts of today fall slowly to the page of tomorrow. And as nearly garish of a phrase, it really does the job. The next day is just a day of recall. I myself never realize all that memory beings is the thought of yesterday. Moments pass and I just keep creating, keep existing. The recurrence of ideas and thoughts. That’s studying. Life is just one huge ball of studying.

But what recency holds significance?
You study today but will it matter tomorrow?
Sometimes, these thoughts don’t matter for decades. And even when they do, no one wants to listen. You’re in a rock an a soft place. The rocks laid you down and you find you still can’t move. You wish, only then, that instead a hard place sat beneath you. Hindsight is a precious motive. What drives me? and how long since I last thought that was the pulling force behind my life…yeah, recency. Because if I really paid any attention I would remember. I have to write it down for it to really stick.

Where now we are only laying awake waiting,
there are many others fucking the shit out of each other. In every respect of the phrase itself. So keep on thinking…There is a large world to cover. 

Wise Words from Lula Mott

“Is it scary to forget things, or know that memories you once cherished might be forgotten?”

“I don’t think about it because I have a great memory and so if I lose it tomorrow I’ve had all these years of remembering.” - Lula Mott

To the…

And so I’m writing to the future
A place of comfort, place of warmth
A new existence to become to
Where all that listens was unearthed
And Oh she stands on mountains
Holy ghost come down
She’s here now, She’s here now, but where am I?

And so I’m writing to the future
When all that sings will be of peace
All the longing has been passed by
Every wrong behind the beat
So when the heat grows stronger.
Oh, she’ll come crashing down.
And She’s here now, She’s here now, but where am I? 

Those feelings crawl inside my stomach
Not unlike they had before
Troubled winds conduct direction
While pixels cope to hide my bore
And if the wind grows weaker
Well, I’ll become nothing and die
Oh, She’s here now, She’s here now, but where am I? 

united we fail: Collaborations, Songwritting and the like.