Whatever happens to be on my mind... thoughts, memories, desires, moments captured. Unrestricted by criteria, deadlines, expectations, or requests.

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Tuesday, January 31, 2012

This Is My Property! Keep Off!


This mulch is my mulch.
It is dark, deep… thick.
My mulch smells, looks and covers better.
Keep Off
This soil is my soil.
It is fine, fertile… rich.
My soil grows more, better and faster.
Keep Off
This grass is my grass.
It is crisp, clean… fresh.
My grass is greener, cooler and softer.
Keep Off
This rock is my rock.
It is smooth, shiny… pure.
My rock is bigger, harder and stronger.
Keep Off
This land is my land.
Keep Off

Monday, January 30, 2012

A Night Like Many Others



My body is tired. My frame is sore. I am worn out from a day both good and bad. My bed is warm, almost too warm: warm enough to feel like my breathing is slyly being restricted. My hands are dry, but I’m too lazy and too broke to buy lotion… besides, lotion isn’t manly. My neck hurts, and the pillow I’m using isn’t worth the 30 dollars I paid for it. Shifting to my side feels better, but I don’t like looking at the wall beside me and my legs keep rubbing and getting stuck together. There is an eyelash in my eye, just present enough to make me feel it, but not annoying enough to get up and get it out. I’m slightly hungry. The one slice of pizza that was my evening’s dinner obviously wasn’t going to be enough, but it was late and I didn’t feel like driving somewhere just to feel full. Every noise is amplified and the silence in between the night’s rumblings pierce my thoughts. I am laying on my back with my eyes wide open. Thoughts are playing wack-a-mole with my brain. I can’t think of anything besides how noisy the silence is. My ears are ringing. My eyes are wishing that the ugly shadows and light patterns stamped on the wall would morph or move at least so that I could have something interesting to look at. They seem so constant and dull. I am listening to myself swallow; picturing the saliva squirm down my throat to an empty stomach. My breathing is annoying. I hear the slight whistle produced by the tiny hairs in my nose. I do not breathe through my mouth out of fear that my freshly brushed teeth will turn to morning breath by the time morning comes around. I am looking at the clock. I am wondering how electricity works. I am puzzled as to why the two little dots separating the hours from the minutes are always blinking. Tonight is today already. I still think of today as tomorrow though because I haven’t been asleep yet. I wonder if I think about one thing right before I fall asleep if I’ll be able to dream about it. That will never work… I think about way too many things. I couldn’t possibly control what I’m thinking right before I go to sleep. My roommate rustles in the bed not too far away. He is sleeping like a little baby only dreams of sleeping. Why can’t I sleep? My eyes are heavy, that means I’m tired right? My mind tells me otherwise. I’m thirsty. Water is all I have. Water is from the sink. Eww. No. Not sink water this late at night. It could never be cold enough. I am feeling my hair start to mess up already. No telling what it will look like in the morning. I wish wigs were normal to use; that way I wouldn’t have to worry about fixing my hair in the morning even though I showered at night. A jar of peanut butter is beside me, but I have no spoon. Still hungry. Still thirsty. I feel like using my finger to scoop it out, but eating peanut butter will just make me more thirsty and I have nothing tasty to drink. I wish I was in heaven. Then I wouldn’t be thirsty. I wouldn’t be hungry either. I would never get tired and have nights like this. This would not be my norm, and that would be wonderful. I swallowed again. I am listening to my heart beat. I am remembering when I was a kid. I used to be so afraid of my heart beat as it sounded with my head against my pillow. It always sounded like leaves rustling right outside my window, as if footsteps were crunching them as some stranger was walking around out there. I miss being a kid. having a beard is not all it’s cracked up to be. it keeps scratching my shoulder right when I get comfortable. My feet are always cold when I try to sleep. That is so distracting… Trying to sleep is harder than falling asleep. I wish they were equally easy. Why does my brain catch the little things so much? Great, now my eye is twitching. Check the clock, 4 minutes has passed. That sucks. My pillow is hot on both sides now, and that is exhausting to find out. Light gets brighter as the sun comes up and when light gets brighter, it gets harder to fall asleep. I have to at least try. I am trying. I have been trying. I feel like a little kid being punished, and not being able to go to sleep. Why do I only hear the air vents at night? They’re never this annoying. Mmmm… peanut butter. I feel like drinking milk. My lips are now chapped. and the corners of my mouth are sticking together because of the saliva that has been coating them. That’s kinda gross, and kinda fun to play with. I wonder if I’ll end up being one of those old people who always has a little bit of spittle in the corners of their lips. Thats disgusting. My baseball coach had that and he was only in his 40′s. My eyes hurt now, they’re not just heavy. Im closing them because it is too painful to keep them open. Maybe through eye pain I’ll finally be able to sleep.
Goodnight.

Hating Hypocrites



In my life to hate hypocrites is to be hypocritical. If I were to hate all hypocrites, I would have to hate myself.
Ironic huh?

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Running from Nothing


scrambling, scurrying, always hurrying.
nothing to see.
looking, worrying, constantly wondering-
who’s watching me?
panicking, stressing, knowing  nothing
pleasing, jumping, huffing and puffing
laying down, I’m playing dead
hoping it all will pass overhead
kicking, screaming, clawing the sky
wild haymakers blindly fly
sprinting, sweating, gasping, panting
tripping, falling, bruising, scraping
hopping, ducking, weaving, racing
wildly running, but no one’s chasing
exerting energy just to see
all im doing is running from me

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Trending- Individuality


He says, she says
I think I’m best
You say, I say
I’ll do it that way

Your way’s my way
So mine’s not my way
We like to be like
All they say’s right

My life’s my life
It’s not your right
To say what’s not right
And give me your strife

I say my say
My say’s my way
Do as you may
And we’ll go our way