Monday blues

Its been a while that i’ve written something.

Let me rephrase that,

Something meaningful,

aside from my frequent array of short excerpts and silly blogs.

Lately, it seems as if i’ve been hiding in all the wrong places

Engaging in the wrong activities.

I’ve recently found myself pondering on the idea

Of change

Not the good type of change, if there is such

But the type where you cant simply click an undo button

or rewind back to where you came from.

A loss of touch with my identity perhaps,

Where its come down to the ultimate question of who am I becoming

To where i want to go.

Its been a while since i’ve last felt this way

It could be the excessive quantity of alcohol

I’ve ingested the past couple of days,

Or the loss of brain cells due to the

amount of times I’ve been out past 3 am getting high.

I’ve been running,

But which direction?

It depends on who you’d ask.

My mother and father would simply answer south

My dealers, north

Way up high

My friends, North West, maybe East South

Whichever way our drunk minds will allow us to.

Sorry, didn’t mean to drive your brain in circles solving riddles.

The point is, someone knows

And soon, I will to

Wether i find the answer in the bottom of my next spirit over the rocks

Or inbetween the ashes of my rolled up spliff.

If I’m lucky, hopefully in my dreams

when i finally get some sleep.


Oxymoronic solutions

Never really understood Why we destroy ourselves in attempt to fix ourselves 

The concept of doing bad things to feel good

Consuming poison in hopes of finding the answer at the bottom of every bottle

Or in the midst of all the ashes

Ironic really 

Morning after 

Room spinning

As you stand in front of the mirror
In last nights dress
Your breath wincing of cigarettes and day old whiskey 
Head pounding as you attempt to reoccur the events of the night before 
As you drank to forget
The times you spent with him
The times you didn’t need Jack Daniels to remind you how to be happy 
The times a hangover was nothing but the 5 minutes after he kissed you goodbye 
That 5 minute hangover that elongated into countless blackouts 
and meaningless hookups
As you lost yourself searching for his one last kiss
But once again,
ended up with nothing 
but that poisonous bottle against your lips 
And that heinous hangover the morning after

Brainwashed society 

The complication in our society lies in the manner in which we perceive our situations,

Constantly overlooking greatness, 
obsessing over imperfection

We allow our disturbances to overpower our reputes 
We feed off tragedies
Drown in misconceptions 
We’ve grown into a constant cycle of living for something else,
Attempting to be something else
We entangle ourselves in the erroneous concept that eternal peace is unattainable.
Forced to believe conformity is the only method of living. 
We’re engrossed to disregard the significance of our individual worth
Imprudently falling into the inveigling trap,
As we hypocritically criticize it,
And string the affect onto its vulnerable members
We cynically judge society, 
But obliviously ignore the unbelievable control we obtain 
We neglect our power to change society,
And heedlessly allow it to slip right through the very midst of our fingertips

Power of the pen and the paper

Staring facedown at the blank pages screaming out for the writers cognitive endowments. Craving the relief that the slightest caress of his pen consigns as he transmutes his beliefs into eloquent black ink. Curing it’s vacuity,  transforming it’s barrenness into a prepossessing canvas. A canvas that will soon convey it’s very own endowments to those fortuitous enough to consume them. The canvas that feeds the hungry mind of the reader, curing their craving, their vacuity. It becomes a chain reaction caused by the mind of the writer to the pen, the pen to the paper, and the paper to the reader. Each stroke of the pen infuses a thought in the readers mind, overcoming it’s blankness. It is of no importance the handwriting, magnitude, or even organization of the work. Each fragment will implant a seed in the mind of whom is in front of the page. The boon of the selfish writer, documenting in the interests of his very own intention, is the impact his writing imposes on the reader. A selfish act unjustifiably condemned as altruistically advantageous to any soul it comes in contact with. As the pen continues to nourish the paper, it waters the implanted seed and the seed then disperses it’s newborn information to the mind of the reader. As a result, the reader becomes enlightened by the work of the writer. And thus, is the chain reaction of the knowledge of the writer, generating information into the world, and finally, to the mind of the reader. The unavoidable power of the pen and the paper. 

Unvarnished like the way you left me

I was once enraptured by your touch
Always yearned that exhilarating high,
Adrenaline rush
Your vibrations sent chills up my spine
My body addicted to your clutch
As you placed your lips against mine
Boy, the way you shot me up cloud nine
I was once hypnotized by your gaze
When your eyes locked on mine
As you told me you admired my ways
I should’ve sensed your selfish treacherous craze
Your hands trailing down me
My emotions, 
screaming to be set free
Our bodies danced around 
creating a beautiful fantasy
What really was a far-fetched reality 

Your breaths, 
echoing down my ear
As I resisted your love
Trying to conquer the fear
Feelings preventing me from seeing clear 

You wanted me to beg for you
Reassurance of the truth?
If only the love you proclaimed for me wasn’t far from true
Our naked bodies bare,
yours pressed on mine
Who knew we were left with so little time
Your cold lips continuing
pressing down my neck
Stalling around the ultimate goal
Slow movements and teasing taking its toll
Less teasing? more pleasing?
Is that what you wanted?
If only it was flaunted, 
The game continued, 
Your movements getting closer
Until it was time
Until every kiss and touch built up into the very moment you were so eagerly awaiting
I was weak
Goosebumps dissipating every strength in me
And my body caved in
As I fell for your false amatory role
and foolishly, let you take control
My head tilted back
Craving more 
Ready for your attack
Until suddenly the truth came out,
And our surroundings went jet black

Foolish lover

I wish i saw the truth behind your words as easy as you once faked them.

I wish, oh how I wish, I overlooked the amalgamation of meaningless gesticulations you  managed to hypnotize me with.
The empty promises, the mistaken beliefs.
Your false exertions,
The doltish love letters.
A spectacle awning every dagger in between. 
Am I to blame for the forlorn bruises you implanted on my back
When I stared straight into your eyes?
As it was my ultimate fault for not looking.