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| Friday, December 31, 2004 |
| Daylight, Sunlight, Moonlight, and what? |
| posted @ 02:26:00 MST by bryn |
| I want to know why spending your time is like fighting an addiction The last thing I'd like to be is something you need to quit Leave me queasy with a quarry of questions, reeling in some kind of feeling Just give a little more than a little something more and more Let something out if it's in there somewhere I wish there were something you could not help but have to say as I'd fall to hear it I'm stuck here in the same place, the opposite face Maybe it and I are something more than this and I am I just wouldn't want anyone to wonder where I am like in the past when I hid me all away If things are getting a clearer setting then you aren't really listening Even after, the hopeless bastard, odd man out, burn out so much faster. Time is what we test against and I don't understand because that's something of that what we don't understand Can't stand under falling down bastard faster still Time is a patient violence so eager to steal the moment as it feeds off my little bit, consuming what reaction I may have to it Breathe, steal, pull, feel, see, real, new moment lived and old forgot it were the first second ago The fierce winds fall down mental winter blade Wake to the nail what the metal takes Faster shall fall what burns around the entry place Further stuck on the opposite face I'm all or nothing but I will give you all - If you want it all at all, grab on and don't let go... ...or I will fall. |
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| Friday, December 24, 2004 |
| Afterstance |
| posted @ 02:07:00 MST by bryn |
| It's really a word. Look it up. It's like happenstance without anything. Nobody believes me. There is no magic. There is no love. There is no god. Prove me wrong. |
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| Sunday, December 19, 2004 |
| Food for Thought |
| posted @ 02:35:00 MST by bryn |
| Monopoly will always be a four letter word. When you're fat and lazy there's no reason to be anything else. I'm sure there's even solid revenue from the copies of Visual Studio writing the spy/mal/adware. Fuckwits. http://www.linuxworld.com/story/47536.htm |
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| Saturday, December 18, 2004 |
| Phosphorescence |
| posted @ 02:56:00 MST by bryn |
| I'm obscuring my own vision. |
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| Tuesday, December 7, 2004 |
| I don't want into your pack, I'm not your dog, dog. |
| posted @ 23:34:00 MST by bryn |
| Have you found yourself? (That should maybe be the question and whole here, no more.) No, but really, have you found yourself sitting at a red light, watching the turn signals - watching them not blinking in unison, different frequencies, the same direction yet so varied? You would think that with all the standards, conformance, the requirements, guidelines, specifications, qualifications, someone would have made all the blinkers blink the same. They've specified all of the parameters of the bulbs, sockets, and wires themselves right down to the amps and watts, but not exactly how often they should blink, only that they had better blink or you're in trouble. I'm sure you would be hard pressed to come up with a more established, stone-fast universal, artificial standard than the light bulb and it's socket - the demarcation point of metered, owed, and paid electron flow. Have you ever noticed how lost you can feel when you lose a directional? Forced to hang an arm out the window, sticking out, and again sticking out. Having directionals is a standard but standards only apply to the system itself. Stick out for sticking out - so mundane. Sitting there and watching a long line of cars full of people signaling their intended direction but blinking out of sync... Going to different places the same way in the established lanes of passage of time. Different wants, thoughts, so much the same, traveling on as links of a tensioned chain... Cutting no new path but never the same just the same... A long repeating unique, a self-asserting determined average following the path, the line, the law. Not one after another, finding a place not so much as seeking, searching for being. Another turn to getting there is here but not heading somewhere. Pointing headlong into pointlessness. But, I digress... As that's the unified defined signal for these kinds of sudden turns. So often the simplest truths are the hardest faced or found. Trying just isn't it's own reward, no matter how hard anymore. At some point there needs to be someplace on this road to stop for a little while. Someplace warm, forgiving, soft... exceptional, revalational. Someplace where you don't need to try - at least not all of the time just to be there - days off from everything except being, feeling, and seeing. Time that is yours. Time. A tomorrow not owed. Moments that don't need to be stolen and don't feel dirty as if they were sometimes, and more often not. Treasures of rarity. Hope has them in abundance, yet far too few they are. I don't want to look. I don't want to know. I want no part of this one-sided crap anymore. I want nothing, I want everything... I want something. Just something. True something. Someone, that one. That moment of thirsty anticipation a fading inch and moment away with lips parted so very slightly, knowing what moment comes like a sweet kiss. One hopes, one lives, one wants, one spends time - far too much time. Time. Time owed, time wanted. Time ending... if only within a beautiful moment. What a moment to end on. |
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| Sunday, December 5, 2004 |
| Aching Equations |
| posted @ 03:41:00 MST by bryn |
| Zero Answers |
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| Saturday, December 4, 2004 |
| If you're here |
| posted @ 02:12:00 MST by bryn |
| Why are you here? But thanks for stopping by. Context-sensitive content follows. You're wondering why I even think of it. It's the saturation of the human experience - the pure slut suck face indifferent-to-tomorrow momentary warmth. I want it. That ripping, escaping heat opening the guarded being and imposing awakening of purposely put-aside fantasies. Fuck. |
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