Words
That's all it is, words.
Long words, short words (ironically, long is actually a shorter word than short, and short gets longer as it gets shorter)
And here are a few, about something new, some are true.
But most aren't.
I've found as of late, that lying is much easier in the written form, and bullshitting is just nothing when you write it down, because really, everything is bullshit once you've bothered to write about it. And worst of all are pieces of writing, boxes of words, packets of letters, about other pieces of writing.
What is the point? All this recording, figures, descriptions, sentences about nothing at all but, well, everything. They're just black marks on white, nothing special. Sure, they can become sounds, and music, and evoke emotion, but is it all really just bullshit.
I think so.
So, in this short useless post of uselessness and ridiculous things, that is, words, I want you to learn something, or atleast pretend to, or maybe just scoff and think how stupid I am
So, here's something, I can't touch my nose with my tongue, but I can
sorry, time's up...
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Can you lie next to her and give her your heart?
I'm no keyboard warrior, but I do have something to say.
And you might not like it.
I realised today, that whatever I'm feeling, whatever's running through my heart to my head, whatever I've wanted to do. There is no fault, in loving with my whole heart. So, there's no way that you can be mad or disappointed or angered with me, at least not forever, so what am I so worried about?
This whole thing, whatever it is.
Actually, stop right there,
I know exactly what it is.
A lot of nothing, with substance. A great feeling, tingling in your toes and rushing through your eyelids. The feeling before you cry, but imagine, that feeling aboslutely dominating your entire world, and then some. A big white duck, barking like a moron, watching a planet die, that's us. No one understands it, except me. That's why it's stupid, because it's actually not stupid. at all. It's like watching y's scatter across the screen, amongst a few u's and t's, maybe a h, as I struggle to press the y key back on, because it falls of sometimes on account of I tried to clean my keyboard by taking all the keys off one time. But, you don't understand, only I do. That's what this is. All of me, and you're sitting next to it, and you can see it and feel it, maybe even smell it, but you don't really know what it is. But, I just want you to see, for a second, really look, and maybe you'll understand just one part of whatever it is, you know, me.
So,
This whole thing, whatever it is, whatever you want to call it, me maybe?
It's not dramatic at all.
It's just a whole bunch of life's living together on this big rock with a little rock spinning around us, as we watch a happy light in amazement. We run around in circles because we don't want to stop, we don't remember where we started, and we can't fathom where we will end. Just like you. And I'm watching you, running, waiting for you to turn around and see whatever I am, and love it back, with your whole heart.
Sometimes I type so fast that my keys fall off. I get lost in a moment somewhere, and I don't really see things falling apart right infront of me. It's hard to look straight ahead when so much is going on, when you're so happy your crying and so sad your laughing, and whatever you might have been watching is so barely visable that it's not even there. And then you sneeze, and I'm covered in snot and your sweet breath, and you can't open your eyes, so I run away.
So, now I'm sitting behind a rose bush, with a thorn in my back and some rotting petals by my feet, and I'm about to scream. When I scream, you will hear me, and maybe everything around you will pause for a moment, and that is the moment I'm counting on. The moment you might wonder what whatever it is is, and you might come looking for me.
But, I don't know what you will do, because I am not you. I know you so well, from staring you in the face for so long, but well enough to know what goes on inside your head? Definately not. All I can do is anticipate what you might do as I shake amongst the shrubbery, shuddering in cold solitude. And all you can do is be yourself, do what you do. So, I take in a breath, preparing to scream, filling my lungs with smokey, swollen air. And when you don't come...
And you might not like it.
I realised today, that whatever I'm feeling, whatever's running through my heart to my head, whatever I've wanted to do. There is no fault, in loving with my whole heart. So, there's no way that you can be mad or disappointed or angered with me, at least not forever, so what am I so worried about?
This whole thing, whatever it is.
Actually, stop right there,
I know exactly what it is.
A lot of nothing, with substance. A great feeling, tingling in your toes and rushing through your eyelids. The feeling before you cry, but imagine, that feeling aboslutely dominating your entire world, and then some. A big white duck, barking like a moron, watching a planet die, that's us. No one understands it, except me. That's why it's stupid, because it's actually not stupid. at all. It's like watching y's scatter across the screen, amongst a few u's and t's, maybe a h, as I struggle to press the y key back on, because it falls of sometimes on account of I tried to clean my keyboard by taking all the keys off one time. But, you don't understand, only I do. That's what this is. All of me, and you're sitting next to it, and you can see it and feel it, maybe even smell it, but you don't really know what it is. But, I just want you to see, for a second, really look, and maybe you'll understand just one part of whatever it is, you know, me.
So,
This whole thing, whatever it is, whatever you want to call it, me maybe?
It's not dramatic at all.
It's just a whole bunch of life's living together on this big rock with a little rock spinning around us, as we watch a happy light in amazement. We run around in circles because we don't want to stop, we don't remember where we started, and we can't fathom where we will end. Just like you. And I'm watching you, running, waiting for you to turn around and see whatever I am, and love it back, with your whole heart.
Sometimes I type so fast that my keys fall off. I get lost in a moment somewhere, and I don't really see things falling apart right infront of me. It's hard to look straight ahead when so much is going on, when you're so happy your crying and so sad your laughing, and whatever you might have been watching is so barely visable that it's not even there. And then you sneeze, and I'm covered in snot and your sweet breath, and you can't open your eyes, so I run away.
So, now I'm sitting behind a rose bush, with a thorn in my back and some rotting petals by my feet, and I'm about to scream. When I scream, you will hear me, and maybe everything around you will pause for a moment, and that is the moment I'm counting on. The moment you might wonder what whatever it is is, and you might come looking for me.
But, I don't know what you will do, because I am not you. I know you so well, from staring you in the face for so long, but well enough to know what goes on inside your head? Definately not. All I can do is anticipate what you might do as I shake amongst the shrubbery, shuddering in cold solitude. And all you can do is be yourself, do what you do. So, I take in a breath, preparing to scream, filling my lungs with smokey, swollen air. And when you don't come...
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