"You know what I've noticed?" Roger, my therapist asked during one of our Sunday afternoon sessions.
"No." I said, resolutely, "What?"
"Rorschach Inkblots look like shit. And I'm not saying, 'shit' as in how you feel when you look in the mirror after a hangover induced by one too many shots of tequila and loose women. I'm saying I think they look like literal, from my ass, shit smears. I've always thought that. Even in school when Dr. Fowler would make us memorize all the pictures and their meanings, I remember thinking, 'I could go take a dump right now, wipe my ass, and tack the toilet paper up on the wall. That'll show 'em!' I'd wager that's probably what ole Rorschach did anyway, took a bunch of shits and made something meaningful out of 'em. Then he died and his shit became famous. Little did everyone know, he blew it all out his ass!" Roger then took this moment to laugh at his twist of words, while all I could do was stare, blankly at the wall. I couldn't look at him now, not like this, "That's all psychology is anyway, just a bunch of shit tacked up on a wall and made famous by dead guys. At least, that's what I think anyway."
buddies
08 January 2010 @ 01:01 am
comment
07 January 2010 @ 09:08 pm
If I could take away all the pain you feel,
I would.
If I could make her love you so that your heart may heal,
I would.
I hope with everything that I possess
she will be yours so that you may rest.
Be at ease, my dear, for we're sure she does love you.
She knows how great you are, but you must, too.
We only hope that we are right
and she can help you through your plight.
Tell her how you feel,
though the thought makes your head reel.
It may be what she's waiting for,
for her to know she is the one that you adore.
I would.
If I could make her love you so that your heart may heal,
I would.
I hope with everything that I possess
she will be yours so that you may rest.
Be at ease, my dear, for we're sure she does love you.
She knows how great you are, but you must, too.
We only hope that we are right
and she can help you through your plight.
Tell her how you feel,
though the thought makes your head reel.
It may be what she's waiting for,
for her to know she is the one that you adore.
Current Mood: 
anxious
anxious08 January 2010 @ 12:04 am
Frustration.
It is an act of anger
It is an act of hatred
It is an act of impatience.
When those acts it creates something dark.
That darkness amplifies when the frustration builds
It builds, it creates more anger, hatred, and impatience
It climbs to its peak until...it explodes.
Like a volcano, raining the fragments of emotions turns anyone around the cause of it.
When the frustration explodes, who knows when it will be plugged.
Hello everyone, I am new here and here's my first contribution for this group
It is an act of anger
It is an act of hatred
It is an act of impatience.
When those acts it creates something dark.
That darkness amplifies when the frustration builds
It builds, it creates more anger, hatred, and impatience
It climbs to its peak until...it explodes.
Like a volcano, raining the fragments of emotions turns anyone around the cause of it.
When the frustration explodes, who knows when it will be plugged.
Hello everyone, I am new here and here's my first contribution for this group
08 January 2010 @ 07:45 am
I'm as dark as night in the middle of the day. I know that the state of the weather should not be a reflection of what is weathering inside of me, because first of all, the weather is obviously not directly related to a persons temperment, and if it did, that would make me devoid of all substance or self identity, right? The sun is shining, therefore I am bright. Maybe I should even hand you a yellow crayon, even 5 year olds know that suns are bright and yellow (and they never fail to draw the sun with a big smile).Yes, I know the statement is not meant to be dissected in its literal sense, but I like the dramatic feel of personification. I'm relating my mood to the weather, the external, except I'm stubborn enough to oppose it.The literary dramaticism of personification, with my own competitive twist; I could not have picked a more unfair competitor. The weather is so random, extremely moody, but I chose to involve myself with it.
Current Mood: 
restless
restless07 January 2010 @ 08:59 pm
I can't stand your arrogance.
I can't stand seeing your face, so smug, so cocky.
Thank God there's not another you in the world;
we'd be in trouble if there were.
Someday, someone's going to slap the smile off of your face
and I want to be there when they do.
Insignificant little boy dressed in a man's body,
trying to teach other little boys the ways of your game...
I wish you the worst of luck in your future endeavors.
I hope you leave from there the same way you left from here,
and I hope you become the butt of everyone else's jokes.
The only direction you can go now is down.
I look forward to seeing your fall from grace.
I can't stand seeing your face, so smug, so cocky.
Thank God there's not another you in the world;
we'd be in trouble if there were.
Someday, someone's going to slap the smile off of your face
and I want to be there when they do.
Insignificant little boy dressed in a man's body,
trying to teach other little boys the ways of your game...
I wish you the worst of luck in your future endeavors.
I hope you leave from there the same way you left from here,
and I hope you become the butt of everyone else's jokes.
The only direction you can go now is down.
I look forward to seeing your fall from grace.
Current Mood: cold
cold07 January 2010 @ 07:47 pm
Like a comet tearing through the shadowy darkness of a night sky,
I sense myself losing the gaze of those once dear to me.
My radiance is fading, my essence drifting away.
I was a leaf blown in the wind,
held in warmth one moment, then released into the callous frost.
I was a drop of vitalizing rain, but now the sun has sucked me dry.
My time has ended.
My hunger is insatiable.
My thirst remains unquenched.
Like all others before me, I mean nothing now.
Is there no one who will lift me from the bottom?
Is there no one who will see my waning light?
The Mistress is ruthless and demanding.
Her arduous requirements are not easily met.
Yet I succeeded.
I did all there was to acquire her penetrating stare.
Even so, I find myself engulfed by the madness of the rejected.
My wounds will not heal.
My scars dictate my mentality.
My eyes have been sewn closed.
As I enter a world without the Mistress,
I sense an ominous presence beside me.
I wandered until I was lost.
Now I will never return.
The rapacity of the Mistress and my own ignorance.
Together, ruin is left in their wake.
I sense myself losing the gaze of those once dear to me.
My radiance is fading, my essence drifting away.
I was a leaf blown in the wind,
held in warmth one moment, then released into the callous frost.
I was a drop of vitalizing rain, but now the sun has sucked me dry.
My time has ended.
My hunger is insatiable.
My thirst remains unquenched.
Like all others before me, I mean nothing now.
Is there no one who will lift me from the bottom?
Is there no one who will see my waning light?
The Mistress is ruthless and demanding.
Her arduous requirements are not easily met.
Yet I succeeded.
I did all there was to acquire her penetrating stare.
Even so, I find myself engulfed by the madness of the rejected.
My wounds will not heal.
My scars dictate my mentality.
My eyes have been sewn closed.
As I enter a world without the Mistress,
I sense an ominous presence beside me.
I wandered until I was lost.
Now I will never return.
The rapacity of the Mistress and my own ignorance.
Together, ruin is left in their wake.
07 January 2010 @ 07:48 pm
Breathe in breathe out, think fast walk slow
Hand on her back, you see, they don’t know
Fight or flight? Walk away or struggle on?
Be calm, stay strong, this heart weighs a tonne.
Keep your eyes on the ground they haven’t seen you yet
Pretend your somewhere else don’t get so upset
Thinking in numbers, feeling in shapes
10, 9, 8, look for easy escapes
7, 6, 5, your laughter breaks me
Trapped in a prism, I can’t be set free
Falling off this triangle, I’m suspended in air
Your eyes linger as she threads fingers through hair
Only then do you see me, 4, 3, 2, 1
It’s too late, it’s over, the end has begun.
Hand on her back, you see, they don’t know
Fight or flight? Walk away or struggle on?
Be calm, stay strong, this heart weighs a tonne.
Keep your eyes on the ground they haven’t seen you yet
Pretend your somewhere else don’t get so upset
Thinking in numbers, feeling in shapes
10, 9, 8, look for easy escapes
7, 6, 5, your laughter breaks me
Trapped in a prism, I can’t be set free
Falling off this triangle, I’m suspended in air
Your eyes linger as she threads fingers through hair
Only then do you see me, 4, 3, 2, 1
It’s too late, it’s over, the end has begun.
07 January 2010 @ 12:28 am
06 January 2010 @ 08:12 pm
Started out innocently
Ignored my instincts ignorantly
Sat down at your table awkwardly
and none said a word to me.
In class, I strayed toward you hopefully
Sat next to you unskillfully
Stayed silent, soundless, reluctantly,
for no one noticed me.
Weeks passed, months went over
Wished upon a four-leaf clover
"Pray give me some better friends
or my misery will never end."
Found my best friend full of promise
Can't believe I never noticed
She was there when I was down
and had been waiting for me to come around.
So I'm not going to sit here wasting
Spending my time hoping and waiting
No, I'll let you on your own
Oh, but I won't be alone.
And you can declare that you're sorry
but I won't believe your little story
Now it's too late for you to come around
for you have let me down.
Ignored my instincts ignorantly
Sat down at your table awkwardly
and none said a word to me.
In class, I strayed toward you hopefully
Sat next to you unskillfully
Stayed silent, soundless, reluctantly,
for no one noticed me.
Weeks passed, months went over
Wished upon a four-leaf clover
"Pray give me some better friends
or my misery will never end."
Found my best friend full of promise
Can't believe I never noticed
She was there when I was down
and had been waiting for me to come around.
So I'm not going to sit here wasting
Spending my time hoping and waiting
No, I'll let you on your own
Oh, but I won't be alone.
And you can declare that you're sorry
but I won't believe your little story
Now it's too late for you to come around
for you have let me down.
Current Mood: melancholy
melancholy06 January 2010 @ 05:49 pm
I'm sorry I can never be what you want.
I'm me and only me; no one else.
You need to fill your void with other things while I...
While I take time to rest my weary soul.
I'm tired of your playthings, I'm tired of your soul
Breathing down my neck as I constantly cry out for help.
Someone will come, no one knows who.
He'll be here and you'll leave just like that.
Goodbye forever, my once and only friend.
I'm me and only me; no one else.
You need to fill your void with other things while I...
While I take time to rest my weary soul.
I'm tired of your playthings, I'm tired of your soul
Breathing down my neck as I constantly cry out for help.
Someone will come, no one knows who.
He'll be here and you'll leave just like that.
Goodbye forever, my once and only friend.
Current Mood: 
cranky
cranky07 January 2010 @ 12:31 am
06 January 2010 @ 06:22 pm
It takes too much love to be a real human being.
Too much. "Just enough" is not enough.
It also takes too much greed and hunger,
Too much lust that can fill up a valley,
Too much passion that can burst a dam's mortars,
Too much memory building like a snowdrift
On a mountain's brow; too much pity,
so many pity-holes that a whole lake could fill them;
and, most of all, too much heart.
Too much, too much heart.
THere should be heart for every power of hearts
That ever existed, and guess what? Even more.
Too much love.
It takes too much love.
Too much. "Just enough" is not enough.
It also takes too much greed and hunger,
Too much lust that can fill up a valley,
Too much passion that can burst a dam's mortars,
Too much memory building like a snowdrift
On a mountain's brow; too much pity,
so many pity-holes that a whole lake could fill them;
and, most of all, too much heart.
Too much, too much heart.
THere should be heart for every power of hearts
That ever existed, and guess what? Even more.
Too much love.
It takes too much love.
06 January 2010 @ 04:07 pm
This is a particularly difficult time for you.
It feels as if your worst fears are becoming a reality
and you can’t or won’t stop it because you also feel
how inevitable it all is.
As if you are twenty thousand years old
but don’t know it yet.
And while going through the motions
it will eventually dawn on you.
That you are immortal, and none of this is new
or exceptionally tragic.
Life will go on.
But that seems to be the problem.
Life isn’t empty, but it’s also not guaranteed.
And it won’t make you wiser or stronger or more content
to accept this truth and live by its word.
It just makes you cautious,
and maybe a little more lonely.
And when you’ve finally given yourself
to someone, finally pried open your ribs to make room
for him – you will regret it.
Not because the pain of a breaking heart is so much
that you couldn’t bare to undergo it once more,
but because you probably won’t love anyone
like that ever again.
Not naturally at least.
You will argue and bargain with yourself
on almost a daily basis.
Convincing the more skeptical and reminiscent you
that this is the best it’s going to get.
That this has to be good enough.
And despite all of this, you will try.
You will fail, and try, and fail again.
Until the blood has been sucked
from your head and you are pale with your tail
between your legs and hardly a heart
at all.
It feels as if your worst fears are becoming a reality
and you can’t or won’t stop it because you also feel
how inevitable it all is.
As if you are twenty thousand years old
but don’t know it yet.
And while going through the motions
it will eventually dawn on you.
That you are immortal, and none of this is new
or exceptionally tragic.
Life will go on.
But that seems to be the problem.
Life isn’t empty, but it’s also not guaranteed.
And it won’t make you wiser or stronger or more content
to accept this truth and live by its word.
It just makes you cautious,
and maybe a little more lonely.
And when you’ve finally given yourself
to someone, finally pried open your ribs to make room
for him – you will regret it.
Not because the pain of a breaking heart is so much
that you couldn’t bare to undergo it once more,
but because you probably won’t love anyone
like that ever again.
Not naturally at least.
You will argue and bargain with yourself
on almost a daily basis.
Convincing the more skeptical and reminiscent you
that this is the best it’s going to get.
That this has to be good enough.
And despite all of this, you will try.
You will fail, and try, and fail again.
Until the blood has been sucked
from your head and you are pale with your tail
between your legs and hardly a heart
at all.
06 January 2010 @ 01:46 pm
i'm standing at
the edge
and the world is at
my feet
and it's waiting right under
my nose
just waiting for me
to leap
the edge
and the world is at
my feet
and it's waiting right under
my nose
just waiting for me
to leap
05 January 2010 @ 06:36 pm
Somewhere in the back of my mind I can see a young girl trying to break free of the cage that's kept her trapped for as long as she can remember. Tears are rolling down her face; she can't see the exit because of all of the redness in her eyes. When will it end? Will it end? The torture is too great for her to handle. She can't speak, but she can see; when she isn't seeing, she's hearing. What she hears is unpleasant and not worth repeating aloud to anyone, anywhere, at any time. More stress, more hardship. She hates it. She wants to let go, but she wants to hang on. There is the trap.
Current Mood: 
calm
calm05 January 2010 @ 06:58 pm
hold my hand dear i'm
getting wet feet and
i know it has been
awhile, quite awhile
but you make me want to
feel the way i used to
feel all over again.
getting wet feet and
i know it has been
awhile, quite awhile
but you make me want to
feel the way i used to
feel all over again.
05 January 2010 @ 11:22 am
shipwrecked decks and lost souls...
everything you had ever hoped
for and more... this is the final score
you know you wanted it to end as much as I did.
clouds, raindrops, snow, hail, rainbows
the course of that realization was short and quick
ripped off like a band-aid
yet I'm the one bleeding on the floor
while you've licked your wounds and danced on some more.
bitter? why of course I am.
I sit here in silence
wondering what happened to us.
Round two.
Current Mood: drained
drainedCurrent Music: Merry Happy - Kate Nash
05 January 2010 @ 11:21 am
leave me (arti)choke hearted.
does that even make sense? second disappointment of the year.
"but you can grow flowers from where dirt used to be."
Current Mood: disappointed
disappointedCurrent Music: Merry Happy - Kate Nash
05 January 2010 @ 02:08 am
The hallow of my ankles were encased in skin. Softest of skin which transferred the ridges of your fingerprints into erratic ripples, hardened nipples. I’m such an emotional cripple. Leaning my face against the island in the kitchen, trying to will the dawn to keep your girlfriend asleep. Inhaling the smell of you deep. Deeper.
I wanted to knock you down, take you down. Down onto the dirty kitchen floor. Down with the crumbles of our late night drunken feast. The bits only college students could miss. Rip off this purple dress, too tight, too short, swallow you in flames of pain, pushed on by passion, lust, and longing. And Love.
Will is measured in ounces. Ounces of drink. Ounces of anger. Ounce of our souls we give up in the night, we sacrifice to others, we believe we were ever capable of possessing. Giving more than we ever knew we had. Measured in ounces. Not inches or bra sizes. Not even in miles or in age. Thrown up to the moon in wailing howls sharper than love making by shooting star lights and cramped dorm beds.
I have spent so many nights reliving your fingers slipping into the space between mine, rocking with the sheen of an unspeakable surrender, dying and reborn each time. Each time, held high and fast. Close and safe.
The safety, nestled within the pack of friends. Safety, with you nestled between my thighs, arms over either side of my kneecaps, wicked words of wild west stories rejoicing the pack into content camaraderie. And later your wild tongue turned to an audience of one, rampaging wickedly my lips in a sexual act akin to the deepest prayers of Nuns and Zen Buddhists. Yea. I remember it being so good.
But the world falls fast into dawn, finding our wills stronger than bodies and hearts beating so painfully. I loved you best this night. I loved you fully. I did not pull you down to the filth of the floor, a mirror to the cravings in my mind. I surrendered the strong hold, sir, and held up the shining idea I had dreamed into existence. A dream of fairy tale endings and wild romances. Here is that dream, lover. Sir. Here it is. Share it with the world. For I cannot share it with anyone, blinded as I am, by its deafening creation.
I curl up in bed now, readying for sleep. It is in dreams now that I know you, your touch, best. Reliving the tactile recreation of the idea you cup in your palms. My palms, the same one which gripped your hair, the edges of your bed, and border of ecstasy, find only digital copies now.
Offer my dream, this idea, up into the skies lover, my sir, my friend. It is the only pure thing left to give to the merciful creators. Let that part of me be my redemption song you sing bravado. May I sleep a lasting sleep, of cryogenic legends and myths, so perfect humanity begs for them to be true.
I wanted to knock you down, take you down. Down onto the dirty kitchen floor. Down with the crumbles of our late night drunken feast. The bits only college students could miss. Rip off this purple dress, too tight, too short, swallow you in flames of pain, pushed on by passion, lust, and longing. And Love.
Will is measured in ounces. Ounces of drink. Ounces of anger. Ounce of our souls we give up in the night, we sacrifice to others, we believe we were ever capable of possessing. Giving more than we ever knew we had. Measured in ounces. Not inches or bra sizes. Not even in miles or in age. Thrown up to the moon in wailing howls sharper than love making by shooting star lights and cramped dorm beds.
I have spent so many nights reliving your fingers slipping into the space between mine, rocking with the sheen of an unspeakable surrender, dying and reborn each time. Each time, held high and fast. Close and safe.
The safety, nestled within the pack of friends. Safety, with you nestled between my thighs, arms over either side of my kneecaps, wicked words of wild west stories rejoicing the pack into content camaraderie. And later your wild tongue turned to an audience of one, rampaging wickedly my lips in a sexual act akin to the deepest prayers of Nuns and Zen Buddhists. Yea. I remember it being so good.
But the world falls fast into dawn, finding our wills stronger than bodies and hearts beating so painfully. I loved you best this night. I loved you fully. I did not pull you down to the filth of the floor, a mirror to the cravings in my mind. I surrendered the strong hold, sir, and held up the shining idea I had dreamed into existence. A dream of fairy tale endings and wild romances. Here is that dream, lover. Sir. Here it is. Share it with the world. For I cannot share it with anyone, blinded as I am, by its deafening creation.
I curl up in bed now, readying for sleep. It is in dreams now that I know you, your touch, best. Reliving the tactile recreation of the idea you cup in your palms. My palms, the same one which gripped your hair, the edges of your bed, and border of ecstasy, find only digital copies now.
Offer my dream, this idea, up into the skies lover, my sir, my friend. It is the only pure thing left to give to the merciful creators. Let that part of me be my redemption song you sing bravado. May I sleep a lasting sleep, of cryogenic legends and myths, so perfect humanity begs for them to be true.
05 January 2010 @ 01:44 am
hold my hand dear i'm
getting wet feet and
i know it has been
awhile, quite awhile
but you make me want to
feel the way i used to
feel all over again.
getting wet feet and
i know it has been
awhile, quite awhile
but you make me want to
feel the way i used to
feel all over again.