Lets Go

You never really saw anything wrong with the world, like the homeless people, durg addicts and the suicidal.
For you everything always seemed so friggin peachy, it's no wonder that you're falling so hard.
Always smiling when this world was set to fail, you never seemed to get the picture.
So here we are in a room of the dead, you're decorating with flowers, I'm cleaning up the mess.
You never seem to see the wrong, only the right, and how you can get better.
Because you never see the homeless people, drug addicts or the suicidal.
All those little red flowers are really blood drops, dripping from the shot right above my heart.
You just think I'm sleeping and how cute I do look, there was never anything wrong in this world.
You're always hoping for the good times, always ignoring the bad, never really knowing just what everything means.
You seem so simple yet I know it takes some nuts to just be able to turn off the news, the violence, and the bloody guts.
There is no such thing as war, no crime called murder, sure there are accidents but never more then a broken finger.
You were always so blind, never seeing anything wrong, like the homeless people, drug addicts and the suicidal.
You've never been to a funeral, worn a black dress, or seen a coffin.
You've grown up in a perfect little world, where things don't go wrong, they just need a little fixing.
Here you go, this is your first sample, just a little taste called life, I'm leaving on a stretcher, and never coming back again.
I hope this is a wake up call that you just can't fix, and that you'll open up your eyes to all the homeless people, drug addicts and suicidals.

My body screams at me.

How many senses do we have? Most would say five, touch, taste, sight, hearing, and smell. But why end there? You assume that each preceptor organ can only process one thing. But have you ever touched something with your eyes, seen something with your skin, or tasted with a part of your body you are not quite sure exists? I have.

Everything is so much more vivid when you allow your entire body to perceive each individual thing. Just sitting here I can hear with my skin as each key is pressed in. I can smell with my eyes, the humid scent of tofu. I can hear the texture of the wood, as I look at it. My senses are aware of most of my surroundings. The back of my head can see the room behind me, and I have no doubt that it is exactly the way it seems.

Yes.

Smoking is a great way to get outside and enjoy the world.
Who need a brain? It only weighs you down.
My neck hurts, could you scratch it below the collar?
Why do we live just to die in the end?
Never trust and chipmonk.
I called it "Dangerous Time."
Monkeys never let me sleep.
Small!
I belong to a cult know as the "Double Hex Militia."
Let the wind fly into the window.

Love Machine

Never ever wake up screaming, laying down and when you start dreaming.
Living for life, living for the end, realizing that this is not where you want to be.
We just made a time machine, just to see what happens in the end.
But in the end we just get lost, and never see tomorrow again, we never see tomorrow again.
You never believed what was to come, so we skipped right past it to the fall, just to realize that was shit, and we will never see tomorrow again.
Time machines don't work like you'd think, we can always go back but we can never change.
Just watch it all go by again, watching all of our stupid mistakes.
Going back is always just deja'vu, living it over, and crying together.
Time travel is just an excuse to see the end, remember the begining, and relive the good times.
Going back never hurt no one, until you never see tomorrow again, we'll never see tomorrow again.
Just let the time go by, forget the shit, try to go forward, 'til you can't remember it.
Love was always like a time machine, you will always miss tomorrow, you will always miss tomorrow.

Waking up in the Kitchen.

My eyes are closed, but I can tell I'm not in a sleeping place, such as my bed or one of my favorite couches. The ground is hard below me, linoleum I think, not carpet and I'm not outside. Perhaps I'm in the kitchen. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, I can see part of the refridgerator, and one of the dining room chairs. This doesn't feel quite right, why am I lying here in the kitchen as is I took a nap here? Well I was reading my book over in the next room, perhaps I fell asleep and slept walked over here before I finally gave up finding a bed. No, that feels much to wrong, I've never slept walked, I've rarely even talked in my sleep. Alright, well I'm still on the ground. And it still lacks a whole lot of correctness. My head doesn't hurt, well no more then that headache that I've had for about two weeks now would cause. None of my body parts hurt at all either. Now that I think of it it was the sound of me hitting the chair that woke me up. So I must have collapsed. But why? Pieces are slowly reassembling, yes, I was reading, and I got up to go into the kitchen, and as I got closer, I started to get light-headed and everything began to go dark. I put my hand on the wall to brace myself, and then I can feel the floor underneath me. But how long have I been down here, I think I heard myself hit the chair, but there could have been some blackout time in between. My watch says 2:15, good, I stopped reading at 2:14 I remember that much. I guess I should probably get up.

I Forgot A Title

There it is, just slightly to the left, no, I mean right. Okay, good, you got it. Well now that you have found it I guess I might as well tell you what you have found. The thing you are holding in your hand as we sit here is my very own Enderblimium. Yes that is correct, I have found a safe method of extracting it from within my soul without causing my mind to melt. The trick is to not let it see you coming at it with the rusty pliers... Now you might be wondering what on earth an Enderblimium does for you. Well, not much is the answer. I have had an Enderblimium for almost 12 years now and it has never once caused me any pain, or done me any good for that matter. It is exactly what it looks like, a pinkish sort of ooze, which is constantly changing shape, but never gaining a new form. And having some pinkish ooze, that is constantly changing shape, but never gaining a new form, in your soul really isn't all that useful. But it is not a handicap either. So you may ask me why I took the liberty to remove it. And well, in return all I can say is, why not? It must be useful in some way other then just taking up valuable non-space in my soul. Perhaps I can harvest some sort of enery from it, or maybe even saute it in such a way that it would taste like some baby animal. Or maybe it is the key to mind control, and now that I have it I can go about taking over the universe... no? Well that's too bad... Well since you're leaving, could you perhaps leave it right behind that box of Gloober-muffins, on top of the Shrillinkiddle. I'll get around to discovering it's uses some other day.

So much for promptness

Well do I really feel like writing an update? I sit here and I ponder the thought of thinking about writing an update, and, well, the ponder becomes a desicion, which becomes the idea which becomes the thought, and here I am typing, so I guess, yes, I do want to write an update.

Now I look at the last sentence and I realize how much I actually like to use commas. Why? I don't rightly know, maybe it was one of my high school teachers that drove it into my head, that commas are not scary and can be used in a fashion to greatly enhance your writing ability. So perhaps I now have it hard wired in my brain that more commas equals better writing.

Morbid Angst

I don't know what to write I just know I should and I know I'm upset.

Sometimes I just want to cry, cry for this life cry for my lonliness.
It's so tough knowing you're gonna be gone, then wasting away the little time you have.
It's painful, so painful it makes you want to hurt something.
But that's just what it wants you to do, give in to the pain, give in to your will.
Why should I let my emotions govern my actions?
Listening to little voices in my head would leave me a bloody mess, laying in the blood of those around me.
Such pain, such power, such a will to kill.
It hurts with every beat, every painful beat.
Is it really easier to end it all, to just give up and fuck off?
Why am I still here, time ticks and I sit and wait for the explosion.
I want to paint with blood, I want to feel their pain.

Shut the Fuck Up.

There is a really really big picture and we are but little dots in the far top left corner. The dots that we are, however, are so small that we would easily be mistaken for cheetahs or even buffalo. And as we pan outward we see that it is not the only picture on the wall, but a collection of millions. Some of these pictures look very similar, and infact many of them are more then likely identical. But who cares?

Murin

I have no use for time.

In the complete history of clocks there are only three that stand out as truly remarkable clocks, however, if you were to include watches as clocks there would be many more. Today we will focus primarily on the three clocks. Enjoy.

Clock #1: The Polish Foot Clock, Shmuntirple
Shmuntirple was made by a poor farm boy that lived in southern Turkey in the late 1870's. The design represents that of many Polish Foot Clocks, but what sets Shmuntriple apart is its use of common household items in very remarkable ways. The entire hulirt gear has been replaced with a full size violin, although this effects the crank-shaft of the riddit chain, this was by passed by also including a live chicken in place of a dulent. (The current chicken in Shmuntirple is a descendant of the original.) You can find Shmuntirple in the Swiss National Museum of Trinkets and Bovine.

Clock #2: The Canadian Mossewich, Jurji
Jurji comes from the Arabic word that has nothing to do with "Smooth Movement" and it shows amazingly in its design. Jurji was created in the year 2003 by Canadian scientists in search of a way to keep the ice in their freezers from melting at 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Although the Scientist did not accomplish what they set out to do they did engineer a clock that uses a series of math equations to figure out the time in 31 seconds and then subtract 31 seconds to find the current time. Many people believe this is the first step to successful time travel. You can find Jurji at the Canadian Museum of Below Freezing Numbers and Thing They Create.

Clock #3: Murin
Close to nothing is known about Murin. Murin was found in an old garage of a man named Schmirkims Oswald. He claimed it was a coo-coo clock but when the time reached the hour nothing happened. This is a very bizarre phenomenon and can still be witnessed to this day. There have been extensive studies on the cause of this but none have come to a definite answer. Some say that Murin is actually a sign from god. Others say that every hour Murin sends a mysterious race of aliens a signal, reporting the happenings of earth. Today you can't actually see Murin; it is in a top secret holding facility somewhere south of Gnome Alaska.

Let Me Out

Slice my wrists as they catch on the barbed wire
Bleeding as I sit here waiting for you
I see that you never cared, you never cared
So now I'm just left here waiting
Left here dying, I'll always be waiting for you

I wake up with no one beside me, ever beside me
Always looking for you, always waiting for you
My head has never hurt so much
Why do I even put up with your shit?
Why am I left waiting for a girl that never was quite there?

Left for dead I lay here dreaming of a perfect world
Pizza for breakfast with you at the table
Why am I waiting? I've already found the perfect world
This dream is so torturous as I wake up and hurt my head
What’s the point in waiting for someone who isn't there?

Find me a poet and I'll write you one thousand words
Find me a cockroach and my love will last forever
You can't kill a cockroach, but poets die for fun
I've never known life until I you made it unbearable
I've never seen the light until you left me in the dark

Never leave me out again; the rain eats at my soul
Its not much more the a damp crumbling cookie
Mice won't come near as I drown my sorrows in blood
I'm as dry as a muffin, never tasted but thrown out
For a perfect world you seem so dead, too dead

How can you live this life with no Idea of who I am?
Can you please at least morn my infinite passing?
I may not be gone but you'll be around forever
Never let my name fade with you diamond tears
Always let me pas you by never let me stay

Blank White

As I sit here staring at my blank white ceiling,
Why am I existing in this melencholy world of mortals?
Day to pointless day watching disgustingly happy people walk to and fro.
I ask for Heaven,
Heaven has no need for someone as dangerously undetermined as I.
I settle for Hell,
Hell doesn't want anybody with such adimintine thoughts that I posses.
I live in this world,
This world of death and decay,
This world of hope and joy.
Here I am forever abandoned in this lonely paradise.
Is there nothing I shouldn't desire here?
Nothing I should not want?
My ancient life is in this world of newborns,
I struggle everyday to keep my miserable place,
As I wrestle with wanting to fly.
I am friendly.
I am deadly.