I will not say it here as clearly as I feel it in my heart, and I know that when I was there, I wasted so much time that was mine to waste, but I miss the land that was before, all the fears of the walls falling down, they were not my walls, all the fears—but freedom was not one of them—I am no longer free and I miss what once was. It is not the monkey’s at my feet but the shelter over my head, the warmth of the couch, the time that is stolen away with each day that I try to push one more minute out of before my bowels turn traitor and I can’t stand any longer, before my body rejects all forms of consciousness and I fall to a lonely respite. I am not lacking the passion, I have just painted it into the tiniest corner and today it looks as if I will have to abandon the painting for who knows how long.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
I have no time to be here and that says it all. I despise all but three, sometimes two, and can not lessen the pain on my heart. I have no time to feel bad, no time to frown, no time but to move forward. Maybe the light is at the end of the tunnel or may be its just more digging out of the tunnel.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
You always thought that I created rules for the sake of rules. This land started with a set of rules. They were not for the sake of their own being but rather to push us farther in. Fuck the outside. No one cares, why should we? Who knows when color (maybe three) will bleed all over these pages and only we will know how compelling it is to look at. I ask because I no longer remember what the rule was about speaking words between lands. I know the one rule we both seemed fine with was never speaking of these words outside. This place is sacred, even if we want to piss in the streets (it is toxic by the way, the stain still lingers). Speaking of this outside would only infect this world with the world we long to rid ourselves of. But what of talking in hear what we spoke out there?
The noises, the voices, the things that haunt me, they follow me everywhere. In my dark corner of the world out there I can not tell you differently of what you seek or believe. Who am I to say you are wrong? But I sit there, waiting, wanting, knowing my edges have been dulled by the constant abuse I seem to impale myself upon daily, and while I would not call it hope (the word is overused and under estimated) I know that if I have one thought today rebelling against all others, that is one thought more than I had yesterday and yesterday I was ready to give it all up, at least in thought, my heart still had that small flicker to set a small across my face when the village burns. I wonder sometimes if the flicker is simply a scar that will not heal and my mind can no longer tell the difference or if it is only the start of a raging fire and my heart has merely grown ten times larger since this journey started and I simply do not know how to control the wheel any more.
I know not when you will check this place next, it has been a while for both of us. And that bothers me. But when you do, the one thought, the one that pisses everyone else off, maybe it was today, maybe tomorrow, that is what I call hope. I gave up asking long ago what would be my breaking point, when I would join the masses and follow the crowd. It took some time to realize that while I was asking I was sailing away from shore, all alone, waving goodbye to all I had passed. Far out at sea I no longer ask, it is me and the waves and once and a while a large ship off in the distance. We pass in the night and usually the captain misses me in my dingy, but on the rare occasion or two, we come up along side and find the time to watch the waves. When the time comes we say farewell and travel for another year.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Artie: Day 6
The well of hell enflames me today. Saddens me. Destroys me. How did I end up here again? What I really need is day 6 to become day 600. Day 6,000. PLEASE. Is anyone listening? Is there anybody there? Why can’t I just stop the world, freeze it… and just think.
Everything movies too fast. Too many people talking at me.Too many people pulling at me. I want to scream!!!!!! I want to scream so bad!!! I fucking hate my life. I am so stressed. I am so chained. I need help. I am alone. I am desperate.
I can’t tell you how much I hate my life. Hate hate hate. I fucking hate it. HATE IT!!!! HATE HATE HATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There’s now another link in the chain. A huge link and a weight. Sometimes I think I ask God for something and he says ‘Go fuck yourself’ and gives me the exact opposite. Is that possible? Would there be a God that does that? I saw a ‘trust God’ sign on my way to work today. I had a moment of peace but it was so fleeting. Was it a sign from him?
Trust him? But didn’t he put me here? Where is the line between the place that I put me and the place he puts me. Maybe the things that are out of my control. His doing… like where I am in this lousy ‘career’ of mine.
I wish I was rich. So freakin’ rich that nothing else mattered. I would take off, live on a beach and recover. How long would that take? Years I think. I wish everyone would go away. This place isn’t even a sanctuary any more. I know too much now.
A: The ‘Well of hEll’ is an actual place I go, much like this place. Except there I have to hide. I sneak in, peek around and leave. I’m never there very long and if I get caught, well… it wouldn’t be pretty. It tears me up when I go there… sometimes. It depends on what I find. Today was one of those days. I hate when I find things I don’t like. I shake or tremble. (Is that the same thing?)
Fuck it. I want to scream. I felt some solace in the fact that I actually didn’t think about it for a short period of time. It was the one time recently that the outside world actually helped me. The mundane bullshit and stress of that outside place actually consumed me for long enough that I completely let go. What do you think of that? At least it’s good for something.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
…but I find that my mind is running as if it were 5am on the third day, maybe the second, by this point if it were when my mind thinks that it is then I would be lost in time and wouldn’t really care less about a clock, but rather just a bed, until I could find a pillow my mind would follow whatever my body told it too. fuck the words, what would be my last thought, the very last one, for I fear I have your disease and can not do anything about it. I am listening in case you were wondering, even if I am not talking. something broke this morning. I hope to god it is for good. I have been waiting for quite some time for this to happen. please say it is broken. tomorrow will be so much better if it is broken. i go to bed not knowing.
But I miss her. I miss her so much it burns. It rips my heart out. Makes me want to scream. Makes me cry. I feel like something is burning me from the inside. I can’t even admit it. It’s so wrong. I am trying so hard to do what is right, but I can’t even come close.
I wish I had never met her. I wish she would leave my heart. I wish i hadn’t grown as close to her. Or let her slip away. Can I admit that here? I have no choice. I need to talk about it. It’s killing me. My entire existence is filled with her. I can’t cut it out. I would if I could. i hate it. I HATE IT!!!! What am I going to do. I know we’ll never be together. Why can’t I accept it? Why am I obsessive? Why am I one who can’t let things go?
Thursday, November 19, 2009
It’s getting harder. I haven’t hit a day five in a while as you can see. And the thing is, this time it’s done. These days are going to climb and climb.
I went to the sign last night. Sometimes it’s actually comforting. Yesterday it wasn’t. It was torture.Â
I will never escape, will I?
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
It started good. Then a message came. The killer of souls was spotted. At least no contact was made. Why does this bother me. Why can’t I let it go. It will haunt and follow me. It totally takes the wind out of my sails, the air out of my balloon. Fuck!!!!!