Ventures in the Dark

05/03/07

Current mood: pensive  

                   

 Sleep of the World
…Awakenings of Nightmares
Another Day.
Welcome back to the ever familiar isolation
Another consolation to soothe the discomforting
After just another day.
Days of a World as solid as Now
Clocks ticking, define and tell…

       The Day crawls to an end
The Sun sets down another lost …
The Last faint radiations of color spasms
Splitter through the backdrops of clouds
Whisper away the dark rainbows wide and sprawled across.
Streams of light fade the sky to night
Bright colors transition to darkness
As the world slips away
Drowning the day and the sky
to be awakened again tomorrow…

         So Now the world decides to sleep.
The doors shut. The windows close. The locks turn. The lights dim.
But one house.
With just another family.
Slowly falls asleep.

With only one soul still
Not yet dead to the night;
To bear witness to the quiet finale of another day.

            Just a young boy
Watching frame by frame life whisper away
Till yawns rhyme him to doze.
Tiredness conquers, and so
time to put to bed days and dreams.

He picks up his feet
And turns the rest
Of the house
Off
To sleep.
He shuffles down
The dark hallway
Looking to see
The absents of disturbance
Rooms quiet
Never to speak up awakenings of fantasies
Put to bed time and time again.
And so the boy sighs…
Time for another existence birthed from mute and dead dreams
to end tonight.

He turns off the lights
Pitch goes the hallway
the boy stands in

Dark.
He walks blind down it
Hands upon the walls
Memorizing the familiar route
Hands grazing across solid walls
Gaps
Walls
And door.
Finding the handle,
Twisting
He opens his door, stepping into his room.
Shutting the door behind him, he stands but for a moment
Looking out upon his room
Eyes glancing and dashing across the surface of ornaments of life
Bed. Window. Couch. Floor. Closet. Debris. Desk. Ceiling Fan. Dresser. Bookshelf.
A quick hesitation before his fall into blankets of fantasies…

He walks across the room
Shutting closet door
Leaving the mini blinds up.
Standing before the one way mirror
And gazing out on darkness and self.
He turns and clicks off the lights.
And crawls into bed.
Head down upon soft pillows.
Opening eyes to see
the dark transition of his room…

And the window view
A world of forests isolated from the world
Bright moonlight beams down
upon trees birthing streams of shadows.
"Good night world," he whispers
And curls up and closes his eyes to
sleep undisturbed and then awaken to light.
Ironic, dreams to fade day to day…

But the night was not to be what he expected.

A night to awaken the Death in All…
The silent void not so soothing
for a boy, all alone…

Storm of Thoughts

04/04/07

Current mood: curious

When the fuck will people realize that we are all hypocrites.
And, we all stereotype.

Meh. Just a thought.

---(I cant stop thinking. or writing. But that's kinda obvious...the constant thinking. That might be bad if I could stop thinking. I might just be dead. or drunk. or drugged. Anyhow. Time for rambling.

People are always expected to have the answer.

If someone doesn't have the answer, then people think there is no answer.

People think that no one can understand them. They are encouraged by this train of thought when no one can say anything that relates to how they feel. So. Does that mean no one gets it?…are we all oblivious then?…

I'm tired of being expected to have the right words. My words used to be things I wanted to say. Now they are things that are said because they are needed or expected. What a waste. I can't keep promises anymore. I haven't been able to for the last 5 months. I've become less than I was. I'm not the same person I became over the summer.

I have been a closed bottle my entire high school years. I know I'm not the only one. But I quite literally disconnected my old personality, and made a new one. I ripped apart my old world, hid it away, and stepped into a new world. How dare I judge others that did the same, even if the affect of their actions have burned me.

Now, I stand here looking back at what has been changed. I became something more after the summer, but just as quickly, I lost something else. With this new, more real character, I lost the old me.

I want both sides of me. I want the dignity and integrity and perseverance and the self-confidence and childishness and yearning for the beyond. I want the thoughtfulness and contentness and the openness. But I've watched my life go by, and now I see it is now just splitting roads. I have to choose a path, and leave all the others behind. Or I can try to go off the paths, and try to walk many. But so far, that hasn't worked.

I'm tired of expectations. And one day, so will you.

I apparently don't understand empathy though. I can't. I'm a boy. I'm not a human being. I cant do that. Empathy is not a thing teenage boys can feel. We aren't complex and advanced enough for it. We are to busy thinking about sex and women and cars and what we want, when we want it. We are to wrapped up in ourselves and our own lives to care. And most of all, we don't have standards. Reason and Purpose are not components of our lifestyle. 
By the way…the above paragraph was sarcasm…if you didn’t catch.

People think what they want to think, and nothing you can say can change that.

We are never enough. People get to know you, and expect the world from you. Or at least something more. They'd never say that though. They'd never admit that. But you know, deep down...

---

Life is not like the Sims game. You don't have little icons above your head, showing everyone what you are 'really' saying, or what you are thinking, or how you are feeling, or what you are going to do or want to do.

So we have to try to express ourselves and communicate through words. But, as many words as there are, there aren't enough. So, words become relative to the situation. …

The emotions we express are the closest ways we can express what is going on up in our head, because you, or anyone else, will never know what's going on in my head, even if I tell you. I will never know what is going on in your head. We can hold up masks or not, and no one would know the difference. We as humans were not meant to be able to mind read. And emotions are just a state of mind. The action hence following the emotion is a profound statement of how you feel, but yet, it is only that. It is only a picture, not a story.

People think just because they can see a person, just because they are talking to them and hear their words, that that person is there. We assume that, because they are standing right there. They are talking and replying back to the things you are saying. Most of the time though, people are not there. The words that they speak are just words thrown about to continue the daily routine of fake formalities. There is no connection…

But every once in awhile, throughout the constant cycle of living/dying, there are connections…

All we Have in life to hold on to are those rare bonds that occur between two people. You find someone, and one day something happens, and for an instant, the two of you are one. They can be absolute strangers, or your closest friend, but the reality is, despite the horrible tragedy of the walls and limitations of our mind, all human beings have the potential to connect. To connect beyond the physical, beyond words, beyond the mind. For just one instant, the fabrics of your very being, and theirs, connect.
---

Writing seems to me, to be one of the closest ways to express the true state of thought and mind one is at. Speaking and trying to choose the right, few words is never easy. You are expected to say the right thing instantly. Your mind doesn't always work that fast. You need time to think. 
But people get so involved with socialization, that it would seem that we all just forget that we have brains. Words just become something, like a river, streaming out of our mouth. Some people realize the mouth should be more like a Dam. 
Which is good, for obvious reasons. We all need to know when to shut the hell up and listen. 

So, it is much more profound when I write, cause I have time to think out every sentence I write, and realize the meaning behind it, and make sure that's what I really mean when I write it. So to Everyone, I'm sorry if I don't use the 'right' words in our daily conversations. I'm willing to realize that you don't use the right ones all the time either.

But even with writing, it is still sometimes impossible to express how you feel. There is that feeling inside of you, and it is so gigantic, so huge, so crushing, and you just, cant, express, how profound it is. No matter what you say or write cant explain, and trying to just makes you more confused.

Momentary Escape

03/29/07

The reflective entrance glass doors of the vertically enormous lobby were pushed curiously, hastily aside, opening out into the dark night. He stepped out from the large building, past the brick pillars, and out from under the awning into the wet street. Rain poured around him, as he looked out into the vast sky; dark clouds looming above him. He could hear tires pulsating through water. He stared out at the cars in the parking lot before him. He began walking down the upwards sloping street, dismissing the restrictive laws and rationale of not walking in the middle of a street.

The pouring sprinkles of rain shimmered upon and around him as he began to jog up the street, jumping over the rippling puddles and landing on the turning sidewalk. He tossed his uniform shirt off and threw it aside, tossing aside his duties, abandoning the imposing, infecting 'necessities' of society. He stood at the edge of the sidewalk, staring out at the large numerous lane street spawning off from the distant freeway. The darkness of the night reigned around him, the city lights and the car lights glaring out and rushing about him.

He gazed out on the street, his mind already made up before the fear or potential hesitation could arise. He waited, waited for the right moment, as the cars sped by. And then…he took off running.

Sprinting off running, stopping at the green belt in-between the two sides of the road, he walked through the brush and trees, watching the cars approaching and zipping by across the wet lanes. He jetted out into the wide black street, and across into the city, leaving his life and expectancy behind.

Suddenly the sky lighted up. He looked up to see a streak of crackling lightening dash across the night sky, sprinkles descending upon him. Seconds passed, as he stared up in awe. Thunder distantly echoed.

He was under the storm. More lightening spiked across the sky above him. The light in the darkness of the city and rain storm were magnificent. He turned, and kept walking and running through the city, the sky and wonder above lighting up every several pounding heart beats.

Despite the limitations, he let it all go; as he cut through parking lots and in between buildings and across streets. He wandered through endless cars, leaped across walls and climbed hills and through empty building sites. Minutes meant nothing. Time was not relevant. And so, every second, every panting breath, every stabbing in the chest from to much running, was cherished.

He was only gone for 90 minutes, but for him, that time was longer than previous weeks and months of pointlessness. It had been an everlasting, profound moment that had set him free of all his troubles, faults, failings, and pains. The lightening streaking across the infinite dark night sky, full with energy and friction, had released the anger and frustration etching through his veins that he himself could not let go.

No matter the pain and erosion of his life, for that moment, he was free from Everything. Even himself. There was no past.

The people he saw amongst the city, even though many were familiar, they were just acquaintances that a previous self had once known. Tonight, he was new.

There was no painful, memorable past. No haunting future.

Only Now.