It just baffles me...So many people seem to parrot what was laid before then thousands of years ago. For so long we've held to broken ideals that never even applied to life, and disregarded the things that actually work, and dismissed them as fictitious. I've but grown tired of pointing out the fallacies of life. I aim to see the perfections that sit crossways from me. Its come to the point where we're so afraid of progression and progress itself. Its as if its ingrained into us that all we know is war, pestilence, and foolishness of the straying of our hearts. As if we'll never see an end to this bullshit thats always painted in the illusions in front of us. Theres so much we don't know, and so much thats locked away in secret. 

I'm starting to get the feeling that if I ever want to start somewhere, I need to read the original texts in hebrew. If I'm to go anywhere in life, I have to start at the basis of protestant faiths, and even before that. I want to follow the silenced voices. I mean, afterall, they're the ones that beckon me the most.

I am in love with the essence of woman itself, for the one who visits me in my sleep, her face is unknown to me. All I have is my faith that God may shine light upon her once again.

I want to fall so deeply in love with the woman who visits me in my dreams...Her kiss feels too damn near.

How do you mend broken hearts? I only wished to see her have nights of peace and days of joy.  I got lost in a sea which was not my home... but I still wish to push her close to the sun's love. How do you give hope to the hopeless?

Never knew I'd ever play the part of the supervillain whispering sweet nothings into a lover's ear...

Who am I kidding, I just wish I could give so much more than what I can offer at the moment.
Me attempting to even explain it seems like such a daunting task.
I guess I really am too cliche for any of my emotions to mean anything.
I'm at the stage where I just want to dissappear and just induldge all my energy into my art, whatever my art is.

Thing is, I'm still so caught up on the many girls that came before her.
Still stuck on the girl who rests in another man's arms.
I know I should just let it all go and forget it, but something keeps pulling at me.
Damn, I don't even feel like writing poetry anymore. I'm done.
This blogging shit, I get tired of speaking whats not even really on my mind. I gotta keep most of it hidden.
Besides, it seems like the message I wanted to portray is spreading around nicely.
Feels like my part in the cosmic play is done. And now, just to breeze through the rest of it in silence.

I'm too busy trying to be superman when I forgot my cape at my homeplanet.

I swear everybody thought I was gonna be some neuro-theorhetical astrophysicist or some shit. Iunno.

I end up being a depressed high school dropout having a mid-life crisis at the age of 17.

I'm 19 now, and I ain't did a fucking thing with my life.

God...dammit.

Everyone is constantly on my mind, but Im so damn busy fighting theae conflicting voices, trying to find my way and what works for me without any outside influence. It sucks si bad to try and fake a smile these days to not worry anyone. Im ina world of pain, and it just wont stop sometimes. And when it does, its only for a split second.

I see you all... I hate how everything in me is so dormant and forced into silence. My old sickness was at least full of beauty and hope. It was a wellspring that simply did not have a bucket tied to the end.

This new sickness is likened to a neverending desert...