aspie ranting |
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If I seem a little distant or incoherent, it's because I am. I am not a NeuroTypical and I have no desire to become one. This is simply the area in which I stim my creative impulses. (WARNING: All entries are either ENTIRELY TRUE or ENTIRELY FALSE and anything claiming to be one of the latter is, in fact, one of the former. There are no exceptions to this rule.) comments, marriage proposals, and death threats can be sent here 
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Saturday, February 28, 2004
whispering artifact (stranding twines of the looseness in between your fingers) speaks to me in silken[listen, days are nights and nights are mornings]voices i breathe to[believe]touch [between] your fingers. o, but these eyes you look through [i see inside through] away outside you lock: forever lives here, tomorrow breathes[hopeless endeav(our)]the closeness you still in moments. [i could live in] Orbits hold for eternities and seconds, and the remainder of the time is spent remembering of scents and sounds, but the best was your laughter as your eyes proved I was alive; You are sculpted in my heart. Created, you were sculpted from stardust, and light from heaven's eye, and I could only dream to live within the orbit of such the rage of grace that is so savagely you. But you hold me nonetheless with the gravity of no words, no truths to feel, or fail. And so we'll fall apart for lack of promise and want of change: need for it, And our orbits may needlessly collapse. To which sphere will the spirit cling when her own is but taken by the night and given over sacrificially to the light from your sculpted hands? The storm begins to pass For all the absences and anger, they will not feed us, nor will you remember how my heart felt in your hands. I fall, escaping the way you command me by your eyes. I lose myself adrift in search of the love behind those eyes and the heart that once knew; even the stars can hear it now - you once loved me. Tuesday, February 24, 2004
At first touch contact avoids direct intrusion love lost in contagion and silent analogy depths of chaos the calm of an illusory balance lost innocence and lonely pennance for I am one day the Pariah for I am one day the Parousia fear is borne of guilt, guilt of this rebirth. Tuesday, February 17, 2004
There are worse things to give up... worse things to lose than your life. just one way to believe, to trust; to try to prove love Sunday, February 15, 2004
I'm the last breath of the four winds that blow and I am left breathless for all that I know. All that I've done and all that I've seen is a muddle of things that I wish could have been. A smile on my face is a dream I once had but times have been good and now times, they are bad. the knife in my back takes the life from my days "don't let it get to you, just turn away." Thursday, February 12, 2004
(only outlet at the moment, sorry) every night I climb into my empty bed alone while yours has room for more Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Sunday, February 08, 2004
I stand at the seashore, alone, and start to think. There are the rushing waves... mountains of molecules, each stupidly minding its own business... trillions apart... yet forming white surf in unison. Ages on ages... before any eyes could see... year after year... thunderously pounding the shore as now. For whom, for what?... on a dead planet, with no life to entertain. Never at rest... tortured by energy... wasted prodigiously by the sun... poured into space. A mite makes the sea roar. Deep in the sea, all molecules repeat the patterns of one another till complex new ones are formed. They make others like themselves... and a new dance starts. Growing in size and complexity... living things, masses of atoms, DNA, protein... dancing a pattern ever more intricate. Out of the cradle onto the dry land... here it is standing... atoms with consciousness... matter with curiosity. Stands at the sea... wonders at wondering... I... a universe of atoms... an atom in the universe. ferral moon rising rusted red waxed and waining stars diamonds in the sky carbon lifeseed starseen twinkling Saturday, February 07, 2004
"nothing ever seems to turn out right. no, nothing ever seems to turn out right. so i'll leave it at this. my deepest regrets." -- from "Early Out of the Gate" by The Good Life I have lost myself completely... I don't my points across because, much as my high school career fared, I didn't "show my work" fcuk that. I am forgiven. Wednesday, February 04, 2004
contemplative... contempt brewing, stewing, fuming... a compass that doesn't point, and a point that is lost a dozen times or more... the score? her - everything... me - 0... she is undefeated, undone, unbecoming, unforgettable, undying... a figurehead without a ship... a reason to lose all reason... the very model of a dream... the very essence of the thing itself that becomes not itself... she is hope... she is caring when you've got nothing left to lose... she's the curly fry that they plant in the regular fries... she is the sound of one hand clapping... she is restless, she is bold... she is nervous, she is cold... she is ageless, she is new... she is perfect, but not too perfect... she is comfortable, she is uncomfortable... she is the perfect fit to a piece that can't be missing... she is breath... she is infinite when the morning light shines on her face... she is golden when she smiles... she is inspiration, she is pain... she is sex in random places and always asking about it... she is the wind... she is a kiss that can last... she is touching tongues... she is someday, oneday... she is indiscretion, she is secretive... she is gone... she is fake like you... she is free, but cursed with memory... she is lies to protect me, she is the truth underneath... she is a cheat code for the level I can't beat... she is pleasure... she is evergreen... she is forbidden and always available... she is addicted... she is strong... she needs... she is illusion... she is almost buying into the lies that surround her like a fragile house of cards... she is spiteful and quick to anger... she is defensive but likes to get first blood... she is amused by the disparity of despair... she is afraid of it too... she is the fear of losing someone to your own petty fears... she is close... she is easy... she is right... she is wrong... she falls apart... she hates too much... she is pain... she is nothing but the best... she is trying too hard... she is creation... she is a bed with messed up covers... she is unafraid... she is forgetting the 4 items... she is a loner... she is an attention whore... she is attentive... she is warm... she is nice -- yeah, nice... she is a playground... she is a dream... she is gone... she is two noted so in tune that the overtones ring... she is circular breathing... she is tired... she is alone... she wants it that way... she is not a martyr... she is not here... she is not... she is a dream... she is gone... Tuesday, February 03, 2004
a change of scene a case of fantods a total of 3 words change unless you haven't been forthright. something is missing here... something big. Monday, February 02, 2004
Dear Universe, I know I've done some pretty crappy things... so let me suffer, not her. Yeah, she gets mixed up and sometimes she blows it, but she's as good as you've ever made. If she wants to feel better, then make her feel better, damnit... don't mess this up or you'll have ME to deal with. -me Sunday, February 01, 2004
the danger of holding on to things that long to be free lies not in caring, but in holding on too long to things already lost in a white knuckle's atrophy holding on when all we really want to do is to let go and see how far we fall and see how far we've come... |
faeries have died because YOU haven't been clapping hard enough.