I invented a dance it is called the velociraptor.

Don't be a ghost... leave a note, comment or hug below... thanks! AND IF you think you're too important to leave a comment or hug or what have you, you should know you aren't... so Ghost traffic go away. If you don't like what you see either A) close your eyes and pray it disappears or B) get over it. If you don't have anything nice or at least constructive to say please leave my diary now. The nice and/or constructive comment/sentiment/etc doesn't necessarily have to be about me or this crap of a journal... so whatever...be nice. OH and "fall" will lead you to older entries...

2003-09-19 - 2:41 a.m.

recycled

[The former]

feeling is a gift so i use to think the willingness to be something more than formality

so i use to think so i use to be

before you occurred to me

and the flood gates of my numb rage opened making me blind and i am lost for the reason

and when i reach to retreive it i am tossed into the seasons that change without meaning I was taught to believe in this, and This is what?

Save me from believing there is nothing more,

than as good as it gets, on the cutting room floor.

I imagined and you said i was dreaming.

I live in a world within, a world without

some think i have made it, you know i have my doubts

I am here at your command

waiting to meet all your demands

I know i'll pay for this life

And that you'll play me until my life is a single strand

that you wave proudly in your hand.

Torn and wreckless i'm another bell on your necklace

just a symbol of where you stand

and I know i'll pay for life

[the latter]

The more i talk the less i seem to comprehend about being me,

and as more people file in the lonelier i become

the sooner i connect the faster i come undone

yet you still listen to the words that flow from me

like wisdom could rise up from my anarchy

as if you had some need for me

i held on to my little piece of heaven through bright blisters that turn bruise blue

the white hot light given off makes red martyrs

out of every inch of me and i admire still how you

protect at will the space forebearers attempted to fill

the cry is shrill yet deserved

justice brutal goes unheard

there is so much i have said

too much i have never said

books line the walls of my room

and pile up like bricks encasing

my scrambling attempts

i am the bric-a-brac

the scraps of paper that litter the floor

shredded for lacking importance

shavings from my pencil

are the curled concerns that ball up

and drop into a paper cup to dive right in

releasing the once formidable opposition of trust

the difference is in the mystery of the syllables

the perfect symmetry of the nearing distance that you fear

and i wish what poured out of my eyes

were not your tears for all these times

i let things go so awry

i don't understand your apologies for my crimes

and since you set me free i have to go

but you can make me

i'm your fabrication

you can make me

i'm your fabrication

.trip. - .fall. - .bounce. - .ashes ashes . - .we all. - .fall down.

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So I noticed a shit load of people tracking internet dirt through my journal but not leaving me any comments or notes...so hey if your gonna click/sneeze and wipe your dirty internet germs all over my lapel the least you could do is leave me friggin note or comment... I don't like ghost traffic. Its not polite. And for those of you who leave me a comment, note, and/or guestbook entry thank you in advance! Don't have time you say? Well, then you could just give me a hug (see above). That only takes a second. Thanks!

............................................................................................I trail off in one sentence out of five

..........................................................................and the rest of the time I just.....

.......................................................................................................................mumble...............................................

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moon phases