Explanations.

Aching heart provides contradiction with circumstance to open. Undiscussion of each condition that led to this padlocked box of hopeless romance. Unwilling to unburden yet aching to burst. Wetting cheeks at the very beauty of the first reckless occasion. This is why i keep it vaguely hidden honesty. And the danger that it brings. I don't know if i dare to open my heart to failure that's why i dare not lean in to caress you. One split second skin contract pupils dilate and fate becomes the plank i walk on. Sharks circle. Every step becomes harder to take. Emotion. Linked to past experience. Pain. Allow yourself to feel. Maybe. I dare not tie you to my heart. For fear of. Sharks circle. And the water is too deep for what it is. I'm tied to the memories. I can't shake the circumstance. Yet I can't stop pursuing you. I'll be the moth flying at the candle. Scared of burning its wings. Yet aching to be held in the light. Hanging from the words. Still glowing from your smiling eyes and not even ashamed of that fact. You and the music. Intrinsic. Empathy. Feeling. I want to know every idiosyncrasy. Before the sun comes up and i have to go. Days later and I'm still floating on the moment i became aware i was talking animated and you were smiling through a pint glass not allowing our eyes to unlock.

Said himself "its just a shame that i'm so ugly"

You looked beautiful, as the wind blew out the flame, over and over again. As another sneaky sideways glance revealed. This cigarette isn't even lit you said, you rolled your eyes, if i had worked courage to tell you, those were the prettiest eyes, you'd think i was cliched. I only know the truth, I keep it locked inside. We are just sick and tired of this town and i know. That we could just cling on, to each others skeletons, until its time to go.
As we discuss the memories of our lifestyles. For me at least i feel (and i can feel!) comfortable around you. I caught your stolen glance whilst i drove us home as slow as i could go. Your eyes shined the reflection of headlights glistened my inner smile cried I drift from stranger to acquaintance and I dare not open this because last time i time i let myself feel i am lost for the words. But its not just that.

I don't believe a girl like you would want me.
because
self deprication,
is ugly.
and i can't pretend,
to like me.

extreme sports

the generation gap. It shows with different tabloids. Disparity between figures. Six million. Quoting the same report. Replace Europe with Corporation. Replace Immigrants with Executive. In a boardroom we've never seen. Such affluence we can only dream. They say the trick is to keep the un-herd scared into compliance but not into panic. Feeling within the moment of a snap decision. Follow a guy who looks like he knows what he's doing. How many times this week did you listen to that confident man? Its the fear of not being in control that causes resentment. In my lifetime its been spectrum to megadrive to wii. Its the twenty years between black and white and colour TV. This internet birth affected how we interact. Now all our drunken secrets are databased. They scar the eyes of strangers. A conflict of interests develops over time. Openess must prevail. Undiscovered tissue builds up. Till you cannot feel them scratch the surface. Till your exes share pictures of next weeks conquests with unwittingly vacant eyes but don't they look happy feeling good for her lack of shame. and i've lost any beat i found i've stopped to see the picture better and i'm forgetting to puncuate on this race through the sentiment as this is my release as modern life IS rubbish and these words need to escape so i can stay vaguely sane i'm not on good form all the time somedays i need to hide away somedays people say you're in a much better place than six months ago we were close to saying something but we know that you can't tell people they rebel they sink further down the spiral and you mean me not some people and these words flow out of me i'll air it i won't share this with anyone sure you can find it through an obvious link but you gotta check there and care enough to click and find and click again so if thats how you ended up at my new now then i'm proud that you care enough or if its just helping resentment to build up then i'm ashamed for your lack of shame preach only love and the world will love you back i was told i fill the rooms i inhabit with scowls sometimes you just don't catch me at the right time and its cathartic to air my dirty shame out into this empty space without fear or perhaps unknowingly in these crosshairs and you know right now i don't care last time i set up a counter so i could see who'd been where but i haven't bothered this time because i'm not writing for you if you've got this far just see it through its escaping with no premise of anything no graces like looking at the floor when i could be locking eyes like telling stories of the person before the accident because thats just not me. It took a long time for me to figure that out. A clear before and after. I heard it was better to breakdown and fall apart early while you still had time to put yourself back together. jigsaw pieces cover falls undoubtedly and i'll show you a single cardboard picture of a car headlight as thats all i remember i'll tell you of the event with a smile on my face and i guess you could call this councilling how did this become about me? was it elliott smith that led me here. i hope he's happy up in heaven now. i read vonnegut say when you are happy you should say "well if this isn't nice i don't know what is" as to acknowledge the good that you spend dark hours dreaming of, and i believe him.

One comment and I'll sink like a stone. One comment and I'll take myself to the brink, throw myself off, and I'll sink like a stone. One comment and I'll sink like a stone. Did i not say i told you so? Words are signposts. I wear your hidden agenda's like concrete boots whilst treading water. I'm hoping that these words are escaping now replacing signposts with my own. Double standards with nothing but love. If they were to think it. They would be saying it. I always fill in the gaps i always, always paint by numbers, filling in the gaps. I always forget that this game has rules, that my appearance to others is different to my perception of myself, that is the nature of the game. To remember oneself amongst a crowd is to forget, that shared knowledge is a glimpse of clothes and accessories, the movement of whose hips to which scattered beat. That is all. No knowledge of past procedures. No knowledge, no desire for any entity other than the self. Perception is linked to appearance. Judgement is made in an instant. I guess i should wear red again tonight. Danger. Danger. They don't all consider these things. Remember you are insignificant. In the grand scheme of things. You don't need to drink to fit in. Fuck fitting in. People always say be yourself but then expect you to be the same as them. Don't be drawn into an insecure house because the door is open. You have your own safe place. Let the music lift you. Let the crowd drift through. The world is beautiful and these monsters drag you through their eyes, empathise, but beware. Stay strong in the face of it. Don't let anyone put you off or drag you off course. You have your own path to walk and each decision that you let someone else make for you every time you sell just a little you are walking off of ityou will wake up lost you will you will you are will you will

Its hard to process the facts we take for granted as part of our daily existence

Myself tossing and turning through the trauma. Seek to avoid it, did i find a stroke that fit, thrashing wildly through the now thick air. Just breathing is wild. The complex chain reaction sparks all i can comprehend. The struggle to stay afloat is the focus. Time seems slow but its relative to other humans. Fly past but on average its similar, on average its terrible, because collectively it all adds up.

thedramallama

Seemingly insignificant glimpses of larger dreams. Imbetween stoned sleep and the fear of getting caught. Running through empty streets with jagged breath crystallising. Nails scrape airwaves catch reflection in shops window. Pause and watch the steam rise. Shouts echo round corners as distant fights edge closer. Air gets too thick to breath. Tears of rain leave lines like prison bars through vision. Balance settles for submission. Each breath weighs a ton as the oxygen sits like granite in your lungs and the stumbling tear stained irony of existence hits home.

god

the miracle is not that god created us,
its that we created god.
god is love.
and
we are savage beasts.

Hiding place.

it starts today. no more second chance. no more tide, washing lines, in sand. Consider this a hiding place for my sketches. i'd value your feedback if you take to time to read them. Beware, more will appear, in time.

Mentors from my psyche visit in the night.

Becoming aware as the fogs rises around you. Becoming aware of where you stand, of your posture and your purpose, although paths are as yet untrodden. Decisions seem easy to determine.

A recurring dream character put his hand on my shoulder and said "You are the self loathing man, you must realise that path leads to nowhere. Son its a road to regret, protect the boy, the innocent child from the mob. Use the anger that thrives in you productively, let us see what you can achieve. If only for inner peace you must start listening to your inner speech" And that blonde haired child was by my side looking up into my eyes as we walked down Victory road in late September the leaves fading to brown as the oak tree filtered shards of light from the slow orange sunset.

Figures loomed shadows all around as the sun went down. Dream characters that always tell you their name but you never remember. Less the face, more the feel of them that remains familar. So they become our subconscience symbols. The angry man, i forget his name, approached us. I just knew to be afraid from the last time, unbeknownst to me his role had changed, and this time he came to save us. Running past us oblivious, headlong into the sillouette of a man emerging from within the oaks darkness.

I saw that tie dyed junky face lurching over a fence on the outskirts of town and with my new lease of life helped his child over, engaging him in conversation, thus began a battle for the bottom feeder. As often in our circles the search for validity comes from true depravity. Talking debt drunken motives, the cloud like haze of drug desperate situations, each point raised led to another dead end. Another morning coffee forgetting. Another now from then. "But you get fed, we are not the same" It was goldings lane, muddy puddles like sinking stairs in elm street nightmares, engulfing my struggle to run. He crashed a bottle on my crown "it cannot hurt if there is no blood" and there was no blood, like my body was in shock. It just took time to sink in, what was truly happening, for my skull to start bleeding. With Skagface screaming, "I am leiston"

Steven's suburb seemed different as i stumbled towards its sanctuary like the morning after the night the moon rose and blood played on the stereo. Except his hedge was a fence and the back gate was at the end of the drive. I still don't know if he was in. I awoke with a start and went in search of caffine.