The chills I used to get

the pains in my neck/lower brain region

I miss them.

They were the only things I could depend on.

My utter devastation
upon this realm
is nearly complete.

When I'm finished,
no one will remember you.
No one will miss you.
Nothing will have meant anything.
And you wonder why you're ill-prepared for me
and my brand of chaos & death.

This deception
your heartbreak
my heartlessness
these are all just different terms
conflicting & colliding vocabularies

describing the end of your supposed species.

Don't let yourself be convinced otherwise,
you were always part of me.

"Saints or sinners --
a blueprint for change.

This wasn't what we wanted.

Anyway,
I guess you win."

"Tell me who you want me to be.

Show me who I really am.

Interact -- respond before I push you away.

This blueprint for change you've introduced...
becoming a Saint - or a sinner - this wasn't our agreement.

I never chose this.

This isn't our desired result, or anywhere close to what I wanted.

Anyway,
I guess you win.


I mean, it always was a competition with you, right?"

Today, of all days...
I woke up
at 11:30,
half an hour after work started without me,
and my guitar was calling to me.

I played well,
I didn't make mistakes all too often,
and the Kyle said it shall be good.

I came up with at least 3 new songs.
I wrote one of them down.

O.o

I even told myself how to play it on the piece of paper.

It has repeats
and swells
and lots and lots and craptons of delay.

Christ, I adore it like a child.
I will probably never adore anything in that way, because I don't really plan on having children
but I loved it.


I've been waiting for so long for something to come along

slap me in the face and say

"HEY, THIS IS WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO NUMBNUTS!"

But it never happened.


And when I dream about playing guitar or bass in a band-
that's all it is -
a pipe dream -
a lavish success story sold on television infomercials -
 but it never really existed.

That's all any form of success has been to me -
a fucking dream.


Well, I woke up from that dream today and did something.
Made some progress.
I was delighted with myself.

I guess that's really all I wanted to say.

"He turned away and saw
something he was not looking for
both a beginning and an end.
But now he lives inside
someone he does not recognize
when he catches his reflection
on accident"

I can stop looking around
at everything I no longer am interested in
purchasing, renting, leasing, mortgaging, running up credit for.

Stop dreaming of slow death.
We're driving on the jam packed 405, 51, 25 -  whatever road it is that has claimed dominion over transportation.
Bumper to bumper, speeding up to break suddenly,
just follow the car in front of you until you can't anymore.

Stop counting my breaths.
One - air supply has to be running out now  ::  two - someone somewhere else needs this air more than I do
::   three - I've infected it for everyone else now.

And just stare
into nothingness

it's everything I am.

ma·lev·o·lent 

1.	wishing evil or harm to another or others; showing ill will; ill-disposed; malicious: His failures made him malevolent toward those who were successful.

2.	evil; harmful; injurious: a malevolent inclination to destroy the happiness of others.

So I am a problem solver
That's what I like to do...
I get some satisfaction out of figuring out how to resolve issues.

But what if the issue is me?

I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life.

I stare into the mirror looking for answers.

Ugliness aside, I try my best, dig in deep to find them.

I don't think I was ever supposed to be here.
Penicillin and birth control don't mix.
Broken latex.
Out of spermicide.

Then I'm gone
staring into nothing
just like I feel like I have for the past few years of my life.

I don't know how to fix myself.
I suggest:
Reinvention
New habits
Old habits that have died off
Going to church
Reading the bible
Reading anything but the bible.

None of this feels like an adequate response.

But then, that's the problem, isn't it?
I don't want my answer to my life to get a passing grade.
I want it to be meaningful,
I want purpose,
I want to be needed,
and I want to solve problems.
My own, perhaps even someone else's for once.


Then it's time to cut my hair,
shave my beard,
look respectable,
respect myself,
respect others for not hating me the very instant they see me.
Or maybe they do.

It's nothing to anyone that mattered.
The happiness of life filled them up and made their smiles true.
Our livelihood dispersed unto this notion that we need this,
there's nothing past this that will be better for us until it's ready.

If you make an early departure,
you'll be missed by the people who wanted to love you
you'll be replaced by the people who wanted to use you

and I feel like a fool to admit we'll all probably never meet up again,
the isolation of death is all too permanent to believe otherwise


And although I've dreamed of being some hapless farmer in an ancient society,
I think that's all it was

We're not cycling back through,
just wishful thinking.

Just like me,
developing a sickness cured by most anything you do to try to fix it
just to say I'm special
to relate
to not feel the void in my head where genuine thought used to reside
to say I lived as best I could before an end no one saw coming



This is just trash, recycling the old and spitting up chunks
the garbage disposal that is my mind.

A few thoughts as my days begin to disappear into a vault of my brain
I'm storing them, so I won't forget
but it will all end up lost...


I tried to break through to why it is that I am sub-par, below the norm, and largely failing at life
I saw myself in a classroom of physics, perhaps some other science I don't understand
and even though I was registered, in my seat, on time, participating, trying,
it felt like I was being left out of a greater understanding.
And even though I could ask pertinent questions that wouldn't disrupt class, or piss anyone off at the sound of my own stupidity,
I wasn't really there, and I wasn't really learning.

My mind goes elsewhere a lot of the time, and if my body could go with it, I might be interesting,
but usually it's just where it always is...

oversleeping
procrastinating
wasting
lapsing
conservatively relinquishing my place in the world
and it all falls apart, at a slow pace

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die.

What they don't tell you is that you're just watching
like in a theater, but with no one there to help
you when the film fucks up
the audio gets out of sync,
the reel falls off the projector.

You could walk around to try to fix it yourself, but you have an eternity to watch it all over again.

This is God's waiting room.
He's waiting for you to realize what you never did in your life.
He's waiting for you to stop caring about yourself, and start looking at the people you could have helped in your life.
There were so many of us
waiting for your smile, happiness, illuminated sense of living.

But you blocked us out, made generalizations about us until we were categorized into sub-sects for you to black list.


And now none of us can help you
because you're all alone
for eternity.

Swim
with me
in this
endless sea

We can replenish the ocean waters with our tears
If we just keep breaking hearts
Stop paving roads

Things were simple
Love was a house and eight children
A monument to a God that looks like me and will always love me

Even if I kill you.
Even if I kill until this endless sea is littered with bodies.


And someone will say
"Oh my God, I knew that guy."

But it's not yours
It's my God.
Stop using His name in vain.


And when the infamy fades, the joy of attention, the love of a camera
it will all end the same way it began

Loneliness.

And the real you,
the one who has eluded us all,
will finally appear from this unrecognizable reality

A truth to behold
A savior to lead my path
A lie I swallowed with little to no gagging or resistance

And I think it was then...
Alone again, waiting for my sign from you
That I realized this nothingness, silence, emptiness, vastness, undeniable feeling that something is missing
This is what you are.

Everything I assumed was a fabrication
Brilliantly woven into sentences and translated across millenniums
Just so I wouldn't feel alone
So I could justify my wrong-doings
So I could sleep at night
So the children who never knew the real you had something better to believe in.


I'm no longer reasonable.
I deserve this guilt.
The safety is off, load it up and aim. Squeeze. Fin.


You were more than I could ever be
And I just want you to stay that way.
Will someone please pay the electric company to keep the lights on?
It's darker than I ever knew darkness to be.
I guess that's part of being infinite. Everything and nothing collapsed into what I will never have a name for.


Please stop. Please come back. Turn around. I'll do something differently, I'll be better. We both will be.


Call off the hounds,
I'm turning myself in.
I want to go home.



"There was nothing to fear, nothing to doubt."

I obtained this song from Beirut not really knowing how to spell the band name and possibly misspelling the city's name "Beruit" for years since my middle school geography class, with the teacher that hated me for calling her a bitch.

Natasha showed "Postcards from Italy" to me a few weeks ago. It was instantly always in the back of my mind.
Da-da-da-da-da
da-da-da da
da-da
daaaaaaaaa

She gave me the song in .mp3 form two days ago.
iTunes tells me I've listened to the song 173 times now.
That doesn't count the listens I enjoyed while at their myspace page either.


Interior of a Dutch House has now begun to capture my interests as well.
It's only at 3 though. I think that's normal. I've had it for... half an hour now.

It takes three listens to get to know a song.
To feel it when it speaks to you and identify what you like about it.

From there, you can really decide more things about it.
I've decided Beirut makes some of the most beautiful music I might ever hear.


Not being able to make anything comparable is a bit depressing though.
I guess I'll learn to deal with it, like I have before.

Lost, crawling through old and new;
I'm addressing the problems directly.
They just slap me in the face harder than complacency ever did, with my lack of answers to the hard-hitting questions.

It feels like these worldly, societal, humanitarian problems are too large to fix.

A solution may exist, but it is meeting a lot of adversity by outdated dogma and illogical beliefs.

We have to evolve, or advance scientifically to correct the mistakes we've burdened ourselves with. Society has advanced too quickly, and harmony between ourselves and the world seems lost. We're supporting the weaker mutations that are constantly rising from our DNA. The general consensus is that only more will come, and flourish due to our "stable", "sustainable" world. Of course, these words are in quotes because this will prove to be end of our existence, or maybe 2 billion Christians will hit the "jack-pot" and the Revelation of John will prove to be true.

Unraveling the genome appears to be the easy/best way out. If we can. If our oh-so-advanced bureaucratic societies (ruled by aforementioned dogmas) will let us.

What a fucking joke.

"Thought you'd be looking for the next in line to love
Then ignore, put out, and put away
And so you'd soon be leaving me alone like I'm supposed to be
Tonight, tomorrow, and every day
There's nothing here that you'll miss
I can guarantee you this is a cloud of smoke
Trying to occupy space
What a fucking joke
What a fucking joke

I waited for a bus to separate the both of us
And take me off, far away from you
'Cos my feelings never change a bit
I always feel like shit
I don't know why, I guess that I just do
You once talked to me about love
And you painted pictures of a never-never land
And I could have gone to that place
But I didn't understand
I didn't understand
I didn't understand"

As he tried to wash the brake fluid off of his hands, he marveled as the clean hand cleansed the blackened one.
Somehow the black greasy substance didn't transfer, smear or disappear.
It wiped away, visibly resistant, slowly.
He didn't mind using soap twice though.
Water was affordable with his new job.
He wasn't worried about the only supply of it drying up in the next 30 years at this moment.

Maybe it was a fluke chance of brain chemistry, astrology alignments, or the burning of transmission fluid he had spilled over his engine while pouring it into his car that he prayed would last forever;
he was happy.
Or at least, he assumed this was what everyone else had always told him happiness was.

And as he laid down to sleep,
he was comfortable knowing there was a place he could call his own.

We traded souls
For the time being
It sounded like a good idea, anyway

She was beautiful, after all
I felt anything but-
the admiration dwindled quickly

I could have loved you
If I was whole
If you were pure
I gave myself away
-Willingly we inhaled each other's exhalations
Until we both passed out

Thankfully the bag was removed from our heads
in time to let one of us live

I just wish it were you instead.

with me.
with the world.
with you.
with existence.

I've been fighting depression by walking away from it.
It just caught up to me.

It knocked on my door.
Then knocked it down.

Hello, Kyle.
You know you're not fit for any of this.
You certainly don't deserve anything but shit.
You failed before, you'll fail again.
You let everyone down before, you'll do it again.
You're doing it right now.

You don't have to give up everything.
Just on living.

You've wanted to end it before, what's changed?






And when it goes away, I don't really have an answer.

Close your eyes and imagine the world as a place in the novel you never sat down to write.
Picturesque and made-to-order like the world of advertisements and heaven.

This is not reality, this is our illusion of how we feel our lives should be.

To awaken to needing, coveting, and an endless fire of desire, it is a realization we keep pushing away.

But we set goals and find things that resemble that perfect world and embed them into our real lives. So much so that when you close your eyes the blackness you see is superimposed by an image of where you ought(want, wish) to be, and everyone you want to be there with you has been waiting for your arrival.

Open them again,
there's just these tattered symbols of what we *deserve*
and what we keep lying to ourselves about existence.

My world of respect crumbled
Walls of integrity demolished
This was never my foundation
It was built on public opinion
Waiting for the swaying sea of (dis)information to whisk it all away

You told me this once before
I thought you were crazy,
Jealous,
The things I had been of you.
One quiver, one weakness
That's all I ever needed to hate myself.

Tear me down and
Build me back up again
Be stronger,
Stop fear
Dead in its tracks.
Like I am
Dead in your footsteps.

Maybe this is why I'm always sad.
always.

There is a survivalist function to this world.
I think I saw through it at a young age.
Don't get me wrong, I didn't suddenly understand it in a fit of brilliance (to flatter myself).
It was more like I sat down for a minute and realized what it means to not care.
Not apathy, more so realizing the inconsequential quality of our existence.

When you care, you can lose it all (note that I leave out the possibility of gaining that same vagueness).

When you lose it all, you can become blinded by anger and dig yourself into a hole where you're all alone.

It's here, in this hole that I peer up from.

You all look so big from down here (no wonder I thought your egos were as such).

It's from here that I call out to you. Hoping you'll stop the show.
Be real. Be collectively minded.

But of course, things would have to invert themselves. We would have to be open and friendly and accepting of truth outside of our self-dug holes. And we'd have to hate it all when crawling in to them.

So it will all repeat.

I'm introverted.

I think it's because I cynically view extroverts as leeches.
But they're not.
I am.

If I were extroverted, that is.

I would share this misery in all the ways everyone doesn't share theirs with me.


I'm not just introverted because if I became extroverted I'd become an emotion/fun/joy/life sucking leech by association.
There's a physical and mental pain when I meet people.
Somewhere in the tones of their voice is a sadness that sings silently and sweetly.
It's the song that consoles loneliness.

For a second
   I close my eyes and
everything sorrowful in their life
is mine.

It's the worst feeling I've ever felt,
only worsened when I'm meeting new people in the mirror.