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siptheteaburntheincense - December 13, 2007 5:24:37 AM EST

Fuck it!

siptheteaburntheincense - December 11, 2007 10:46:10 PM EST

In a year I want to be the denizen of a classy bar on East 4th.   I will eat breakfast, do a short workout, attend my classes, fit a lean lunch and dinner in, and promptly finish my reading and assignments.  I will work when I need to.  In my spare moments at night I will head downstairs and enjoy a drink with my favourite bartender.  Maybe I will meet a potential every once and a while.  There will be those rare moments when I really hit it off with someone.  Some of those will be short-lived.  After a few minutes of small talk, I will realize that the talk was nothing but small.  More importantly there will be that one talk, the one.  It will not end at the lounge, but instead it will carry over to the next morning.

Good Mourning Sunshine!

For as long as I can remember, I have eaten scrambled eggs every morning.

This morning I looked in the fridge, and there were no eggs.

It's hard to make scrambled eggs when there are no eggs to crack in the first place.

If one cannot make scrambled eggs, then one must find something else one can make instead.

For to make nothing because one is lacking the usual, would prove to be a waste.

Make something. 

Make anything.

Make a mess for crying out loud!

I Don't Belong Here

Letting go of childhood a week earlier than scheduled, and being told casually less than a day in advance.

Strong chemicals drown the already fragile senses.

Sickness.  Fear.  Decisions.  Sleep.  Work.  School.  Life changing events.  Lack of social life.  Lack of self-control.

Sick.  Sick.  Sick.

Detox is needed, but cannot be found in the present.

Salty tears flood the face.

They don't understand.  They don't understand.  

Accuse.  Accuse.

Shudder.  Shudder.  Shudder.  Shudder.  Shudder.  Shudder.

No.  No.  No.

Oh, but yes.  Yes.  Yes!

It is too much.  Too much.  Too much.

Flood, and sleep.  

Alone, yet surrounded by this presence, which is more important than anything could ever be.

siptheteaburntheincense - July 4, 2007 2:30:11 AM EDT

You know it's funny.  Toward the end I couldn't remember why I was with you, who you were.  I felt that I never really knew much about you at all.  

But now, I remember why, years later.  You were calm.  You were kind.  You were truthful about things that wouldn't hurt people, and you truly cared about everyones well-being.  

I wonder if those messages you put up are ever about me.  As much as I try to forget about you, and even try to let things be, for some reason, you just keep coming back to my thoughts.  I don't know what it is, but you haunt me.

I can't seem to get rid of you.  Yet, I can't seem to be with you again either.  

Maybe someday.

siptheteaburntheincense - June 14, 2007 10:44:19 PM EDT

Truth kills.  

Temporary feelings subside.

I can't feel the foundation, but I know it's there.

I want to feel it.  I want to know it, but I'm not sure that I can.

The pain milked from truth is a crude and dangerous substance eating a hole in the heart.

Being inside during the summer is like a slow decay, disinegretating all worth into the air, leaving it only to evaporate into nothingness.

No one here is near.  Near is dear.  Dear is here.  Bear is there.  They are bear.

When the one you trust turns, who is left, but the rock.  But I can't feel the rock.  I know he is here.  I know he is here.  

siptheteaburntheincense - May 31, 2007 8:43:48 PM EDT

I'm not sure what to think anymore.

One moment I'm happy within.

The next, disaster strikes outside,

so piercing that the poison seeps inward.

Sorrow Upon Dawn

I awake and float into the misty breeze of the day.

I sink and falter into the darkness.

The light points in my direction revealing some of the glimmer.

Hope is not so far off.

Life is not a break.

The leave is not crushed.

The tree is not gone.

But the tree is rooted so deeply in that desolate space.

It does not want to be rerooted, but it wants some sunshine and rain.

It needs some sunshine and rain more than anything else right now.

Shine sun, shine!  Rain sky, rain!

But those roots, they are still permanently planted into the ground.

Creation of a Black Hole

They tell her to eat.

But she's not hungry.

She arrives home with a bloody nose and a headache.

She needs rest and water.

She is immediately demanded to make up for their many inefficiencies.

She is trapped by those that created her in a box devoid of any truth.

Insolent creatures!

Stone blind ignorant fools!

Unfit for the role they have chosen.

They are deficient in both wisdom and virtue.

She must persist in otherwise empty pursuits, 

so that she can be free

 

unfinished business

his bones hurt

he hurts

he hurts bad

There is nothing I can do

I can only watch

and hope

Hope is essential

or all else will falter

unto the bleak