Jack's Twisted Kingdom
2004-09-15 18:14:51 (UTC)

ravage the storms

today the fruit of time comes to bear, when the
imbibed grapes from months and years are finally
consumed by those of our crew who yet still stand

i have the strength of character to resist the call
of that illustrious pain giver, called Wine.

when the interflected emotional rampage of parental
units calls, i shall be done with them in a torrent
of bone wracking agony brushed in amber blood

i need food, fodder and friendly faces this eve.
my call has be answered by the wild ones, i hear
them come, i wait, they trudge up the mountain pass

soon, all ails and sins shall be forgiven in one
last toast to the final days of lost memories

to say nothing of the fucked up dreams and the
brutal villianry commited by my parentul units
i am rather sedate this fine sunny morning.

I really have to stop letting things bother me
but the venting was necessary, the lesson learned
was comentary, but at least it was not common.

at any rate, today shall be fun, tomorrow my poor
head and body shall be wracked with the tantalizing
pain of sweet drinks, good company and fast times

everything in moderation. fuck that.

I wait for the call that does not come.
they have said, nothing comes to those who wait.
at what point, do you give up hope?

I usually find myself thinking that people are too
difficult. Everything they say and do they probably never
meant and if they did, well, emotion is fleeting and who
can really keep track of anything anymore. Contradictions,
vagueness, hollow words, fake smiles and patronizing pats
on the head. well, now I'm really over it. maybe.

Social intricacies aren't worth my time and energy anymore
and you had better believe that I mean everything
that I say. If anyone wants to know anything about me they
can ask, but I guess they would have to care.

I wish I could just say, "take me or leave me", and mean
it. but it
would be a lie. I suppose, I actually would like to be
loved, accepted, needed even would be nice.

I could say no... I guess I could but there's always that
chance that I'm just being paranoid and slowly cutting
myself off from the people around me never seemed to
actually appreciate me. So I should probably keep trying.
I'll look for anything that resembles a sincere thought or
facial expression, wait for a moment that they might speak
with feeling or intent instead of this blase crap that
almost passes for conversation between us. Or, more
likely, the feeling will pass and I'll drift away just
like I tend to do, far far away from anyone and anything
that ever mattered to me.

It's ok, I'm over it. maybe not. I'd like to think so.

since when did being myself become such a hassle? fuck

having low self esteem can actually really hamper ones
ability to really get into the swing of things. I for one
have often wondered just how much crap I put up with
because of it. I suppose I have to slow down, take a brief
moment and really think, but I am always going at a break
neck speed with everything, which I shouldn't.

so, as of today, I have decided, that I will be slow.
no more rushing off into the wilderness, without a damned
plan of action. think, softly, walk, leave the bus pass at
home, admire the wind swept streets, the hum of birds off
in the distance, the fresh air of the walkways near the
water. one can only hope, that in my endevour i shall
succeed, and maybe, just maybe get some things done.

tomorrow, my friends are coming up, just for the afternoon,
so gordo, erica and her crew will be going to the bar and I
as escort, shall endevour to apease all who gather.

gord is crashing at a place over near lee's, and i shall be
moving in with him hopefully by the end of the weekend.
the best laid plans as they say. we shall see, won't we.

nothing is ever certain in life. I for one, choose accept
people for who they are, not what they have done, but the
things that they will do. I have dreams, they have dreams,
perhaps in the reflection of the mirror i can be there
walking side by side. but, as fate is such the coniving
runt, i have no choice but to accept the inevitability that
I may have screwed things up already. which is unfortunate.

I would apologise, but that would do nothing, the damage is
there, the cracks in the wall appearant to all who view the
cascading landscape, the dripping of raw bloodless rage in
the mildew covered mornings. I am lost to the ravages of my
own beast, and my attempt to draw upon the lessons of a
gone past have ended in futility. so, we shall see, shant

a kiss in the dark, a touch in night. sweet ambrosia, exit

I've had it with wishy-washy.