March 26, 2005
self-loathing
Ah, self-loathing, my old friend. you come again. Yes, do seat yourself at my table; eat of my banquet, for you are my guest. You do make your way around, don't you! Whore of the universe, I've heard you called. In fact, I did it myself not long past. You have returned, and for what?
For what?
Ah, I see. You come to poke at the embers. To re-ignite a flame I thought had died. You speak of mediocrity in excellence, and I must ponder: Is it truth? You tell me it is so, and i tend to believe you, most of the time. Maybe I should not. You lie, I am told. Letters reach me, words are said. You are the great liar; the embodiment of rose-colored glasses.
Try the brie with the strawberries, they are surprisingly good together. Kiwi fruit also. But do go on, old friend. yes, do go on.
To be good at everything is to spread oneself too thin. Pick something. Do it, and do it fast. Focus all of your energy on it and neverlosesightofthegoal.
Yes, that's all well and good, but for me?
I am just... lost.
Find your way then.
Yes, it sounds easy.
It is.
Posted by requiem at 02:33 AM | Comments (0)
Fisher
There are skeletons and secrets in everyone. Those little things we don't want to give away. They are important - they are the bricks that build friendships. But what if they aren't true? Does that make the friendship a lie? Does the friend have a right to be set free, as it was captured with nets woven of untruths? Does the fish get a chance at a real fisherman? An oven and batter and hungry mouths who actually deserve it?
Posted by requiem at 02:22 AM | Comments (0)
March 25, 2005
fearsss
I'm actually really afraid of this.
I have no idea how to approach it, even though I cannot see it coming in the forseeable future. If it did happen to pop up, I'd not be able to face it. I think what is required is a slow dip. First a toe, then a foot, finally the whole fucking leg.
However I do it, it does need to be done, and it shall be. When the time comes. Oh, it's just such an overwhelming blackness (remove melodrama as you so wish) that threatens to engulf my soul. Actually, it's more like a veil threatening to throw itself off.
Naked for the world and I can't deal with that shit right now, if ever. And no, it isn't what YOU think it is, Miss Perfect-Know-It-All (Yes You ;P
Posted by requiem at 02:50 AM | Comments (1)
sun + earth + mars and the rest
The world is finally aligning.
Two letters and the alpha and omega.
Crossing fingers, just for extra luck.
1. *$
2. _ _ _ bird + earl grey
3. 4 months
4. the end, it is nigh, and I cannot wait.
Posted by requiem at 02:40 AM | Comments (1)
do it
It's not so important who I am anymore, so much as what I do. All eyes are focussed and watching; muscles straining under too much weight, knees buckling, the assume I'll fall.
But I can't. No. To give them that satisfaction would be like saying "c'mon, kick me again, harder, till I bleed from the mouth a little" and the the next time I fell, we'd all have been expecting it.
From here, high up on this shiny pedestal, I'm... inviolable. Try and touch me.
But my feet are slipping. The edge draws nearer and I can feel the wind trying to lift me up and up - testing the waters - dash my brains at the bottom of the cliff.
So I DO, ad they watch. Who I was is gone now. I am my actions.
Posted by requiem at 02:37 AM | Comments (0)
Yeah yeah yeah
Little things promise to happen, making everything better. Little hints from the fates, namedropping and such. "this is going to be coming up fast, so be ready" But these little things, they've yet to come.
Like the four-letter death-sentence - L.O.V.E.
Yeah, it promised me a little sharing, said that my time was almost up.
Geat liar that it is, love never produced the goods. So I'm sitting, waiting, watching. The people who pass are all the same, and they've been by before.
Nothing changes.
Nothing is different.
"Stuck in a rut" I imagine someone saying. And they are right. No way out of this rut - just have to sit tight and see if it bothers to go. All the while, still waiting for love to come good.
Posted by requiem at 02:32 AM | Comments (0)
March 21, 2005
Brokendown
Had my well-overdue mental breakdown today.
That is all.
Posted by requiem at 09:20 PM | Comments (0)
March 20, 2005
The meaning of live
Prepare Thyself
Life has no meaning except in the present.
The past is gone and the future may never exist.
What is the meaning, then?
Is it just "to live'?
That's very open-ended.
If everyone lives, the meaning of life is fulfilled and all are happy.
What of death, then? Is it a part of living? Should humans live forever?
Is mortality the antagonist to the Meaning of Live?
What if there is another meaning?
What if everyone has an individual meaning?
If your meaning is to die so that another may live, what of that?
And if there never is a future, nor a past, and all that exists is now...
I'm doing my assignment. Fuck this.
Posted by requiem at 11:39 PM | Comments (1)
Restful
My body has that lived-in feel. I don't like it. With all of my being, I don't like it. I just want to feel new and fresh and actually alive for once. It's been so long. Burning the candle at both ends, so to speak. After the next week, I tell myself, then you'll be able to rest - that long rest that means you don't get up for a week. The rest that means your friends call after a few days to see if you're still alive. I want that. I NEED that. And I've promised myself it's coming. I can't make it through the next few days if I don't have restful sleep to long for. So, that's all I am living for right now. Counting down the days, then hours, then minutes.
Posted by requiem at 07:32 PM | Comments (0)
March 16, 2005
Father dear
I was asked, today, why I don't like my dad. To tell you the truth, I have no solid, set-in-concrete reasoning. It's just a vibe, you know. I'm all "I hate you 'cause you're an ass", but there are only flashes of suspicion and memory to inspire my loathing.
For example, I was little, and beat my brother over the head with the vaccuum cleaner - there is a story behind this - I had been made to clean something up that he had done, and he wouldn't go away. To the point: I hit him over the head.
My dad heard my brother crying - I had run outside to hide. He came outside, picked me up by the shirt and pulled me inside. On the way, I met a flywire door.
Throwing me onto the floor, he screamed at me to apologise.
I did.
I gave in to that cunt.
That, I suspect, is the earliest memory I have of truly hating my father. I considered causing his death, after that day. I still do.
Another flash: I have the thought, sometimes, that he cheated on my mother. I have no hard evidence to back this up, but she has hinted at it, i found swinger-emails in his inbox, and he introduced me to Kaz - his current bitch - before he had broken up with my mum.
So I hate the bastard.
When asked why, I simply said: He's an ass.
This is the first time I've actually thought about the reason.
Posted by requiem at 11:13 PM | Comments (0)
March 15, 2005
Balloons
Somewhere along the line, he forgot who he was. They told him: just hold onto one piece of yourself. So you can find your way back.
He did at first. Then it started to slip away, melding into the world around him, flitting in and out of reality.
By the time he found that elusive string again, it had changed inexorably. Thomas wasn't Thomas anymore. He could have been a doormat, or a chair, or a balloon. In fact, it was the third that he professed to be. Floating about the sky became his newest hobby.
He never actually left the ground.
Posted by requiem at 08:33 PM | Comments (0)
Guilt
I knew a boy, once. Before he went away.
He came to school on the first day with bruises. Every day after he had more. Sometimes on his pale little face, other times on his long, thin legs, and once on his chest - I asked, and he showed me why he couldn't do sport that day. A deep purple coloured his sternum.
His name was Albert, but we all called him Albie. I think that was the name of a character on a then-important television show, but now, it's just his name.
Albie sat alone at lunchtimes. He ate his sandwich - always peanut-butter - and watched the rest of us run about, kicking the football or pretending we were something we could never be.
Albie stopped coming to school after a while. Mrs Lythe, my teacher that year, said he went to live in Sydney, with his Dad.
I saw Albie yesterday. There's no way he could have recognised me; I've changed so much, but he hasn't. He still has his ragged silver-white hair cut in the same messy fashion, and his clothes still hang off his body like a scarecrow's. He was with his Mum. I recognised her, too. Every day, she'd drop him off in the car park, and be waiting in the same place for him after the last bell. He never stayed to talk to his friends - he didn't have any.
So he got into the car, every day, with his tired-looking Mum, black bags under her eyes, hair in a loose bun.
Only once, when I was riding past, did I see her hit him. Albie's face smashed into the passenger window. Actually, that was the last day anyone saw him at school.
No one else knew.
Posted by requiem at 07:35 PM | Comments (0)
a lie and a riddle
i feel sometimes like i'm floating
in the middle
of a great ocean
and
its made of
sticky rice
-
and I will kneel before you
and cup your womanhood in my hands
and then I will take you
like the teacher you are
Posted by requiem at 02:14 AM | Comments (0)
March 09, 2005
Listen, lover
Listen, Lover
Listen close
I'll whisper once
And you must hear
For what I'll tell
May change your world
Posted by requiem at 10:40 PM | Comments (0)
soul-less?
i'm sure his broken body
contains a little soul
that bandage holds it in somehow
those stitches are important
for keeping souls inside
so they don't fly away
and that machine
that whirring, breathing machine
that keeps his soul alive
so it dosn't suffocate in there
when he can't breath alone
that line, the green one
that follows his heart
and if it should stop
they'll start it again
just to save his soul
even if his body is broken
his soul is most important
Posted by requiem at 09:08 PM | Comments (0)
crossed wires
Huddled in the corner, weeping
What about, they pushed
Nothing. Go away
Leave him alone then?
Yes, he's fine as he is
Leave him be
Don't go, please
I need something
Someone
Away now, he wants
I want
To be
To be
Left alone
Company
Posted by requiem at 09:01 PM | Comments (0)
JD
Died before I knew him
Fell into death
Leapt, wholeheartedly
Arms wide
Heart exploding with
Anticipatory glee
And
A clot
Farewell
You were loved
Posted by requiem at 08:52 PM | Comments (0)
March 07, 2005
Sated
All I want is to be sated
Filled and completed
Joined with another
Forever and ever...
Hah. Sure thing.
I want money.
I want influence.
I want
That's what I want.
Not necessarily in that order.
Posted by requiem at 12:00 AM | Comments (0)
March 05, 2005
Secrets
He did promise never to do it again.
He wasn't a naughty child, but it was fascinating.
He promised twice, because she asked it.
He didn't think it would do much harm.
She caught him again.
He promised, once more, NEVER to do it again.
He learned to do it in secret.
Posted by requiem at 01:24 AM | Comments (0)
March 04, 2005
For Want
I am Rapunzel in her tower of solitude and won't let down my hair. Stand at the door and listen to me, for wisdom of the ages spills from my lips as lies from the beggars: "Yes, I have no prospects or future, so throw me some coin, fair stranger."
Love is far from being a many-splendind thing. No. It's a selfish thing, to want. And, imprisoned as I am, all I have is want. Selfish me.
Posted by requiem at 12:31 AM | Comments (0)
March 03, 2005
Something.
Something new has arrived; something creepy that we didn't see coming.
First it breathed on our necks in that slight way, the one that makes you think it was just the wind.
Then, it brushed our arm, but we thought it was just a stranger, passing us by.
It wasn't 'till it took us, whole and unwilling, into itself that we saw.
It's here now.
Posted by requiem at 10:47 PM | Comments (0)