I feel you dying....

I've been trying to write all day. Actually, I've been trying to write since yesterday, but I can't seem to get my thoughts in order. My poems have been shit, so I just keep deleting them. (Which of course a terrible thing to do and I blame technology, but that's a tangent for another day.)

I'm just so emotionally raw. It's no fun. I've been walking around today just trying not to cry, so I ended up being pretty zombie-like all day except for those few moments when words would trigger an emotional reaction. For example, I'm listening to The Magic Numbers, an amazing band, and one of the lines in their song "Love's a Game" is :

"And maybe I'm a fool for walking in line
And maybe I should have tried to leave this time
I'm an honest mistake that you made"

And...I just started crying. It makes no sense. I love this song and I haven't listened to it in a long time, so it's impact perhaps was greater. I have no reason to connect to these words either, it's so odd. I'm not going through a breakup or anything, which is basically what the song is about. I just don't know.

Technically, I wasn't sad all day. I did spend a significant amount of time being pissed off at anything that would normally just slightly irritate me. I'm a mess of emotions. Anyway, when I'm angry, I like to clean.

And, I mean CLEAN. I've been cleaning for a few hours now. I've been putting off, so now was a good time for a spring cleaning. I'm cleansing myself in many ways. I think everyone should clean when they're angry. It's the best way to work out your anger. You get to scrub and slam and get out all that negative energy in a positive way. It prevents you from doing something stupid and gives you time to think while keeping your hands busy. I don't go to a therapist, I attack the mess in my closet. It's pretty nice.

I just really wish I could write something though. There is nothing more satisfying than pinning my emotions down on a piece of paper and being able to move on. I just want to move on.

The only words that keep repeating when I attempt a poem are: Have you ever felt a part of you dying? It's the only thing I have to work with. The only way to describe how I feel...A part of me is dying, and it has been for a while. This day has been coming and I'm just trying to get through it. I'll be back soon, and hopefully, I'll be new.

I like serial killers.

Romance
Tease me, toy with me
Let's play a game
I'll cut you open
It's instant fame

Don't worry baby
I'll take it slow
You can put up a fight
But I'm ready to go


It seems like I've been listening to She Wants Revenge and yet, I haven't heard them all weekend. I don't know where this came from. Sometimes love is violent I suppose, wait....not violent, extreme? Yes, extreme. Also, I think I've been having too many Dexter fantasies and watching Pulp Fiction and True Romance only exacerbates the problem. I can appreciate a good bloody scene and some Tarantino wordplay.

At least I have writing as a way to vent. I wonder what would happen if I had no outlet. Would I be a serial killer? What an interesting thought...Perhaps. I think I could have been a badass serial killer. I wonder what my name/specialty would be...I'm pretty sure it would involve an array of knives and I would take lots of pictures. I would be my own crime scene photographer. I like that plan. Well, if ever I decide to become a serial killer, I know what I'll be known for.

Okay, I'm done being creepy :]

Mirror

Mirror by Sylvia Plath

I am silver and exact.
I have no preconceptions. What ever you see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful---
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart.
But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake.
A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day,
like a terrible fish.

I absolutely love this poem. I feel like Sylvia Plath and I would have gotten along. She would understand and we would listen to each other in our dark times. She knows what it's like to not trust yourself and feel like an outsider in your own skin. I would have fallen in love with her, if only because I thought I could fix her/make her happy. I would have done anything to make her smile, because I know she was just waiting for someone to care enough. Someone to come and take her pain away with a little love, with a little care. Sylvia and I would have survived only to keep each other from our own despair. Love borne out of need. Love is all we need. Why isn't there more love in this world? Everyone wants love, but it seems to be the one thing people lack. No one should go without love.

Hmm...another stream of consciousness piece. Sylvia Plath makes me a little depressed and yet, reminds me of beautiful things. Well, I'm done for now. I can't seem to stop pouring out my heart right now, good thing I decided to avoid phones and talking to people because I'm feeling much too truthful at the moment.

I hope you are all well and getting the love you deserve.
If not, remember that I love you. No matter what, I love you all.

<3
Laughing Boy

Destruction, Creation, Revelation

Destruction
I'm obsessed with your face
Won't you put it against mine?
Press you to me
Feel our lips entwine

The bottles have emptied
We've been left alone
Just one little touch
I'm yours to own

No sense in discussing
Our plans or emotions
Give in to destruction
Cause a commotion


Hello love...I am home once again. It's odd how nice it is to be home, considering that I got to spend five days in San Francisco. It just felt different this time.

Anyway...There has been quite a lot of information clouding my head and swirling around. I'm just a mess of too much information. It's getting to the point where I'm forgetting important details, because I would just rather not know. I was talking to my sister and she was telling me a story I heard before, but it may as well have been the first time. I think my subconscious is trying to protect me...how nice of it, but it's sort of confusing for me.

I made myself extremely ill yesterday and didn't get to sleep until after 7am, so today I woke up around 5pm, which happens to be a pretty crappy feeling. I hate it when I miss out on the sun, even in this relentless heat. The up side of all of this though, is that I have much more time to myself today. I'm home alone which never happens and I've been given time to think. It's actually a good thing for once! Today, I realized how lucky I am.

It's not everyone who gets to spend so much time enjoying life. I mean, I have school and I take care of my little brother, but it never feels like work. I've set up my life in such a way that it can all be enjoyable as long as I'm in the right state of mind and no one brings me down. I get to spend my days with an innocent little child who reminds me how amazing the world is and how much wonder there is in everything. I get to see through his eyes and play and be a kid for a while longer because I'm with him. It's pretty great. The school stuff is so minor sometimes that it doesn't even feel like school (until I forget to do an assignment and stress myself out =/).

All in all, today has been a good day. I'm learning to accept the good and bad together and realize that there is a silver lining to everything. It's all about how you look at it. Let's try to be optimistic! It's not easy for me, but I can try.

:]

Sin palabras...

Sin palabras
No se como empesar
solo se que quiero hablar.
Nunca sucede de este manera
Siempre tengo que batallar

Pero ahora....
Ahora ni tengo palabras.

For those of you who do not speak Spanish, here's a crappy non-rhyming translation:

Without words
I don't know how to begin
I just know that I want to speak
It never happens this way
I always have to put up a fight

But today...
Today I don't even have words.

That's pretty much it. It sounds better in Spanish. Sorry, I'm too lazy to translate it with prettier language, but at least my translation is correct. I hate incorrect translations when I'm watching movies in Spanish with subtitles. It's really annoying.

But what was my point? Ah yes...I'm speechless. The world manages to show another side of it's ugliness to me and I wish I could turn the other cheek. However, there's no escaping reality and there's no way to make it any better now. It's the kind of thing that when you find out how absolutely disgusting the truth is, you want to try to deny it and go back to the lies that were once so comfortable to accept.

I'm writing gibberish. I would explain it to you, but it's too personal and so depressing/infuriating that I had a lump in my throat (out of anger) when I heard. Basically, my family is a huge disappointment and there's one person in particular to blame for it all. I miss the simple days when I sat at the kid table for family get-togethers and didn't have to know family secrets.

Sigh.

From the Graveyard

Untitled (poem-like non-poem)
I'm sitting in a graveyard of my very own. A graveyard of faces, no...not true faces, but masks. Each with it's own perfectly painted smile. Each slowly losing color, slowly sagging into the earth, slowly losing their realistic sheen. I'm surround by my own face, mass produced to fool the masses, who produce massively to avoid looking too closely at anything.

The title? It's absolutely correct. It's not a poem and I don't expect you to think it is. I was writing and this sort of slipped out. Stream of consciousness is always interesting. I think certain people bring out a certain type of anger/angst in me...also interesting. Luckily, I get to channel this negativity and get rid of it constructively, oh how I thank thee Lord for the gift of art. Now, back to drinking heavily in the middle of the night, with only a cigarette and my thoughts.

-The boy who laughs

Words, writing, thoughts

Untitled
What a pretty age
Glorious to exist
Let's put it up on stage
See what makes it twitch

All we have to do is live forever
Just give them what they want
Say something clever
And give them all you've got

Words words words....when you look at them long enough, they lose their meaning. They cease to be a means of communication and become meaningless lines on a page.

I've been staring at the words on a page in the book I'm reading and I seem to have lost my powers of comprehension. Where do they go when they get lost?

I write and write, and still I find no meaning. I write and write, and the words fail me. I write and write, and the only reason to continue writing is to keep the madness at bay, to watch my thoughts become records of this very moment. I'm not actually going mad, I'm just opening myself up to the thoughts that are overlooked. The thoughts that poke at you and exist in a place outside of normal. Thoughts that would cause others to look to you with concern, because we have all been taught to control these thoughts and prevent ourselves from thinking so. Thoughts that play in your periphery and form chains that would carry you to far off places. I write to allow these thoughts some time in the sun, time to be free of restraints. I write to remember these thoughts before they run off to join thoughts far away, far from here.

I decided, no I never decided...I surrendered to my thoughts and this is what comes of surrender. It may not make any sense, but what is the use of sense.

Yours as always,

Laughing Boy