Tripping on Life

People ask me about my trip, so I tell them about it. I'm going around the world, starting in Ireland and finishing in Japan. I tell them how long it is going to take and, if they ask, the order in which I'm going to visit all the countries. Most people get excited, as if they were going to be right there with me, and then they ask how I feel about it. When they here my answer I think they hate me more then any one thing they have ever known. My answer is this: I am absolutely disgusted by my trip. For most people they need to know why, mainly because they are much more excited about it then I am, and my only answer is: I don't know. When I say that I'm usually laughing, only because I can actually hear myself, but due to the laughing people don't know if they should take me seriously or not.

Who knows, it may not be my trip, it may just be my life. But truly where does one stop and the other begin? It seems as if my trip is becoming my life, and quite frankly in less then three months it will be my life. Maybe I'm in a transit period, one where I still hate my old life but my new life has yet to start producing things that I should appreciate.

Then again I could be looking at this all wrong... maybe I am really just lonely, maybe I realize this and also realize that by going on this trip I'm going to be lonely for the next six months of my life. Maybe I don't want to go around the world by myself, perhaps I am actually afraid of it. This could be a little voice inside me saying that I still fear the end, whichever end I may create. Maybe this is suicide.

Never and Ever Again

Sometimes I can hardly believe myself. Sometimes I can hardly look at my future.
It is always painful. It is always a challenge to take another step.
Never let me out of your sight. Never let me be alone.
All those blunt forces make me feel at home. All I want is another hit to the head.

Lodge Your Complaints

Just stand by yourself, stand with yourself.
I'll be in the corner, bleeding as you twist the dagger.
You look right through me, while I stare right at you.
But all you ever cared about is yourself, yourself.

Do you even remember those nights, those hideous nights?
Curled up with you, now I'm curled up with my bloody sheets.
But you never cared about me, you are the world.
Maybe some other time you'll see me for who I am, I am

The pain is there and won't leave, please leave.
My heart beats like a clock, blood with every tic.
But now I give up, you'll just walk away.
I was just a sprinkle of rain, of rain.

Three Months

Holy shit, I'm going to be leaving in three months... I am going to be wandering around on the other side of the world in three months. It finally fucking hit me. I'm going to be traveling around the world for six months. I am going to be pretty much homeless for six months. I have to get everything pulled together in the next three months. Three fucking months! This is insane. I barely know what is even going on anymore. This is so fucking crazy; I can hardly believe I'm leaving in three months. I HAVE THREE MONTHS LEFT WITH EVERYTHING I KNOW AND LOVE.

Death Love You

One day walking down my throat, I caught a glimpse of the massive abyss. Seeing this I shot myself. I woke up with my head throbbing much like an over used bass line in some stupid hip-hop song. Raising myself to the stars the truth comes out. Where are we? Not on Earth but some other rock, a rock with no mission. Alas when the end came it was not I, but rather you crashing into the sun. My sun, why must you destroy my sun? The thread of time unravels like a poorly knit sweater, all the colors make you want to vomit, but refrain, for you hold fate itself within you. The glasses look two ways; one is a picture of my dismembered body, strung up by various arteries hanging from eternity. The other way I see a small girl, holding a loaded gun to her head and watching as her brains paint the sunset. Neither is what I wish. From here on out you hear nothing but my screams. Screams of the damned, screams of the righteous. All those little papers mean nothing at this point and have already turned to dust. This dream of eternity is not mine, it is truth. You may know the way but you can never follow it. You must always remember when you're bleeding yourself dry: Death love you.

Sitting, Bleeding in a Corner

My love, my life, my one and only life.
Where has this time wasted you? I can't find you.
Somewhere you bleed, somewhere you are gone, somewhere, but where?
My life leads to an alley with a chain link fence, no escape, just an end.

My Pants are Nifty

The coffee table is really ugly where you put it.
Maybe if we put our coats on the door it would make more sense.
But truly in the monkey tail business we have nothing to give up.
Just sit down and have a drink, in the end we'll see the stars.
But truth be told, we are in the wrong room, this is insanity.
Insanity is the creative part of the mind stabbing the rest.
Last night a car hit my left-brain,
My right brain laughed as it watched its partner strewn about a windshield.
The glass cuts like a knife in a bag full of monkeys.
We lost the barrel, but the beer made its way here without a problem.
Questions have never been answered without first thinking.
Thinking is a terrible waste of money, think about it and leave a dollar.
All my money was spent on cheap whores and cattle.
Roasted pork is much like what my lungs look like, I eat lungs.
Doctors were never called but the wound seems to be stitched.
Long time flying, left me with a plane full of drugs.
When the butterflies leave me alone I'll let you have your share.
Nonsense is such a waste of time, follow directions and be enveloped by chaos.
Princesses' have never seen something so hideously beautiful.
My legs might have fallen off but my mind is what removed them.
The crazed penguins have no ears.

Dream Shop

Shelves upon shelves of random unused thoughts.
Just remember where things go and begin your sleep.
It never matters where you are, you'll always get the sweet dream discount.
Twenty percent on the dollar never was as good as it sounds.
But that's the sweet dream discount, for one and all.
Tuesday is the one exception; it’s always two for one Tuesday.
Next week we may have a better deal but today it's still the sweet dream discount.
When you wake up you won't recall where you saw this.
But please come back, you'll always get the sweet dream discount.

The Sweet Road to Discontent

Two days ago I was perfectly content. I thought it was one of the best things in the world. I was wrong. I had the feeling that everything was exactly how it should be and that I'm perfectly fine where I am. Those thoughts would have been the end of the Logan we know and love. With those thoughts manifesting themselves deep within myself I set it up for me to stop being random, depressed, and creative. Today I got rid of it all, I had someone punch me in the face. It wasn't a hard punch, but it was definitely a punch, I did it to prove alternate realities. But it actually helped me remove my contentment. When I felt the pain, I realized that is what I want to feel. I don't want to feel some numbed up world where everything will always be the same. I don't want shortened emotions, cut down for pure efficiency of mind. I want triple chocolate marble with peanut butter cups, not the generic chocolate. I want to live. I want to feels things like no one else ever has. (This I feel almost impossible, but why not, eh?) Contentment may be for those who are settled down, but for me, give me pain or give me death.