The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers. (delascabezas) wrote,
The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers.

from @ 3/10/2002 09:19:47 PM

Maybe I need a chance to disassociate from life. A rife set of circumstances might make things right. I fight to ostracize slight and require respect from those who loathe me. Clothing seems pointless when you wander around lonely focusing solely on the cement giants that surround you. Their eyes beating down on you, their faces frowning upon you, you finally realize that you are a failure. I failed? The inconceivable has just been conceived. Disbelief freely dances around my tattered head and spins so fast that my vision becomes obsolete. Concrete devils revel in their own self-assurance. Pure amazement and awe in spite of the actions that have just taken place. I make my way to the cell in which I'll stay for another few years and maybe my tears will dry by the time I awake. For my own sake I'll bake my brain with pain until I become utterly insane and make the same mistakes I made in years prior, no shame. I came into this world and I can take myself out without a shadow of a doubt. Laughing hysterically sometimes I find I release demons, but scurry to catch them and make sure I will feel depressed once again. That's what I live for. My core is surrounded by black dust and must I tell you again that I am not a man, but a spirit? Share it with your friends so I don't have to repeat it again. I mend friendships then destroy them. Employ them and fire them. Entice them and leave them chasing dangling carrots for hours and then laugh and tell them to hit the showers. I'll see you tomorrow. Sorrow is an emotion that I have felt often and often dismissed it as quickly as it came. Though pain sometimes brought it back to stay for a day or two longer, but I would eventually conquer and move on. I am fond of disillusion though, it's some form of confusion, but once fused with a conclusion it becomes fact, isn't that grand? I can smell fear like a maggot on a corpse that's been dead since Monday, I bet on Sunday they didn't know where their next meal would come from. It's fun to take shots at the weaker species like me as we've all learned. Sometimes it burns, but most times it washes off with a wet rag and some soap. It makes it easier to cope when I mope around and feel down, but sometimes if I smile I might be labeled as 'in denial,' whatever denial means. Everyone's a fiend in some way, some are just fiends in dumb ways, mundane ways, crazy ways. Do you understand what I'm saying? Stop playing with your food, you can't acquire knowledge without the information available to you. So don't throw it on the floor for the dog to eat or you will get beat with the meat you abandoned, figuratively speaking of course. Of course! I haven't lost my mind, I just haven't found it yet, then I hope to lose it quickly like the rest of you misty-eyed souls waiting in your dresser drawer for someone to pick you out and put you on. I've longed for a return to my first home, the womb. The room was so cozy and warm and I didn't breathe air, but ingested liquid. I was a fish with no memory beyond four seconds. Ignorance was blissful then. Now I'm unjustly put into a category called 'men.' I hate being criticized for being man, selfish creatures who consistently offend and cause harm. I had to adapt and change with the environment. I had to incorporate anger into my everyday life to survive. Crying was a sign of weakness in this world, you might be considered a girl. Girls whirled their hair and cared for their body as well as a deranged ape would in a room full of deadly chemicals. Intriguing to some, but to me was a bore. I didn't want to see any more of this madness on my own planet. Damnit, when will the asteroid crash it and mash it to bits in one furious hit? I guess we'll get what we get, or is it what we give? Doesn't matter really, does it? Ah, fudge it, for lack of profanity. Can it be that we are to be what we aren't to be and to see what we ought to see and be taught by the teachers inside of the trees? Teachers inside of the trees? Please. Be at ease with my uneasiness, I'm a bit nervous and erratic. I've just about had it with these addicts that panic when their life force is twenty seconds late. Geez guys, fate will have it whatever way fate wants it. Deal with it. Actually, have a meal with it. Sit down to a romantic seaside dinner with destiny and find out what the best in me is bound to be. I mean feel with it. Take a long walk along the pier with fear and peer into it's eyes and find out how much I truly despise it and it might just take the hint and hit the road. Oh no, how would I react if fear were to turn it's back and me and tell me, 'the lack of me in your life has made me feel unappreciated,' as it packs it's bags while it's eyes sag from the waterfalls that poured their only an hour earlier. Surely I can make it up, break it up and smoke it maybe. Toke it, fill my body with fear once again, but maybe I can't because I'm part of 'men.' Send me something out here, a life jacket or raft because I can't seem to grasp onto any respect out here on this rocky turf where the surf reaches astronomical size and girth. When the helicopter gets here, you can go first.

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