time is a serial killer...

...a mass murderer, if you will...
it consumes us, devours us, controls us
and it does all of this by simply existing...
time dictates every action, or inaction, of our lives
right up until the point where it buries us

you're either running early, on time, or late your entire life
your age is measured by the amount of time you have existed
and your worth is determined by how much you get paid for the amount of time you worked
you live by the clock and die by the clock
there is no escaping it

and as i sit here, i check the time
3:03a.m.
is it time to go to bed?
time to try and sleep away some time?
do i spend more time here wasting time, with which i could be doing something else?

there is no such thing as a democracy here
no, this life
yours, mine, everyones
this life is a dictatorship
with time as the supreme ruler of us all
and us, its lowly bitches.

=e

a consistent strain of detours...

i want to understand everything, starting with the ability to understand...

thoughts fuck up everything...memories are never the truth...we can't depend on our brains for accurate accounts of our existence...

so why, then, place so much stock in memories, and knowledge and thoughts themselves?

we run on chemicals and random electric impulse charges, yet we create these things called thoughts, that are neither tangible nor completely transferrable.

and where do they go, anyway? once you have created a thought, brought it into existence, birthed it in the most proverbial way, the moment passes and we move on to another, but where does that thought go? is it's life-span only as long as we decide it to be? are we playing god to our own thoughts? and what if nothing comes of that thought...was it's life made in vain? does it die out of an inferiority complex because it didn't blossom into the mature thought it was hoped to be? is it really useless, or is it's use being useless, so as to give the brain time to conjur, form, and begin birthing the next thought?

does any of what i'm writing/saying here have any real purpose or meaning? and if it does, is it because it truly does, or because you, whomever didn't stop reading past the subject line, has given it meaning and/or purpose of some sort or another?

thoughts are a slippery slope, and i find myself easily lost along the way...

=e

(dis)owned...

i can never be the person
that i was expected to be
and i can only
apologize
so much
sorry

=e

thoughts out loud...

so it's 3:30 a.m. and i'm up...i was going through old files on my computer, trying to clean stuff up, and came across this. i don't remember exactly when i originally wrote it...probably in the past year or so...anyway, i worked out a couple of spots and thought, what the hell, i'll post it. so, there ya go...

=e

--------------------------------------------------------

'thoughts exhausted'

i'm tired of waiting
i was tired long ago
the wind blows, a flag flaps
leaves tumble across the bricks
until finding a resting place against
a wall or in a corner
glass shatters
lives shatter
hearts shatter
no need to speak
it's all there for the world to see
metal and flesh
the colors that collide
words collide
creating distance between us

i'm tired of waiting
plug it in make it work
but there's no charge
brain dead
chemical shift
shifting gears to try and
make things better
but it has no pulse
and the screaming flat-line rings
rings and screams above the noise
for all to hear
to feel
but feel no more

i'm tired of waiting
the silence bears down
like weights on our shoulders
can we forge on
is there strength there
to bridge the gap
between us
between lives
between time
time will carry on
with or without us
new becomes old and
old becomes older
but never quite goes away
it is the only constant
in an inconsistent world
a constant reminder
of the past
of things passed
but it still remains
i'm tired of waiting

=e

a bit moody perhaps...

the grey turned to blue
as the sun illuminated the world
and cast myself in shadow
the vibrant colors
my muted tones
at odds with the world
with myself
there is no comfort
in never quite fitting in
in knowing you don't belong

=e

just a random thought...

do you remember that game jenga? the one where you build a tower out of blocks, and the whole point of the game is to try to remove as many blocks as you can before the whole thing falls...
sometimes i feel as though my life is just a large scale version of that game, and yet, i don't even get to play. slowly pieces are removed and my whole tower shakes and sways. it's only a matter of time before the whole thing comes tumbling down.

=e

on being a whore...

the important thing to remember when being a whore, is to put yourself out there without shame or embarrassment...

with that being said, i give you this:

http://rockonleapingfrog.etsy.com

enjoy...

=e