Pieces of me (Shattered glass and ego)
Personal Inquiries, Public Injuries
Letters that lead to words
Ripples and babbles in the stream of unconsciousness
Words like grains of sand (At a clam bake)
Words from the sole, Steppin' ovr me
Like drops of rain my words fall on the picnic of life
Words unspoken, but unfortunately written
Bogus Lies (and) Ordinary Greatness
I started, what I call, articlulate writing years and years ago. Some of it was free associate writing, automatic writing, or what ever you chose to call it. It was, and still is, a fun outlet for me. Some of it, no one has ever read before. A lot of it .... maybe nobody should...
My shattered love tumbled to the floor in shards that glistened up at me and my reflected tears.
I doubt that I could ever fall in love again. Love just isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I have never had anyone love me. Nobody likes me, so how can anyone love me?
My heart has never been broken. I am still, basically, in one piece. I have never felt that special ache in my heart, and dryness of the throat that no amount of liquids can quench. When my throat is dry a beer or a coke will usually do the trick. It is said that the sun appears brighter through the eyes of a person suffering from love. Well, at least I don't need sunglasses!
Who needs love? Can't plains, trains, boats, houses, poles, and rocks function just as well without love in their lives?
Love makes the world go around, maybe that's why everyone is so dizzy. You say that love is blind: I say to get some glasses and steady your head as well as your sight. But why is it that those who walk steady fall so hard? It would seem they only fool themselves by believing it impossible for them to ever fall, so they don't see it coming even when it's obvious to all those around that one more step leads them over the edge. Thus, the unprepared fall hurts all the more.
With a philosophy like that you may wonder how I ever hope to keep from falling. But remember, you have to be on your feet in order to fall. I don't plan on falling, especially with my back pressed firmly to the ground.
So this "low" view of the world brings me all the more close to my foes. After all, how low do you have to go to be an enemy of mine?
What is hate?
I hated someone once, but that person found out and left me all alone.
I doubt I'll ever hate anyone again, it always seems to hurt me more than the person I hate.
I have never had anyone hate me… nobody knows I exist (or cares), so how can anyone hate me?
My eyes have not burned with fury for quite some time. My eyes are blank now, like openings of a cave. My brain stalagmite. I can be found starring off into space, or walking the streets late at night just to feel the wind blow through my brain. No thoughts are cleared by the breeze, and none enter by way of it. I only walk at night so as to come across as few people as possible. Well, at least I don't need sunglasses!
Hate makes the world ever changing and exciting. If we could all just get along, it would be boring. We would all be peaceful and healthy – probably living forever. But I’m not sure what the “official definition” of “alive” is. I mean, is a petrified forest considered “alive?” Living forever in a mummified state, the wrappings separating you from any potential conflict doesn’t seem too satisfying. I’m not too sure anyone lives in such a state of bliss today. Doesn't everyone seem to have ulcers? Hate causes arguments. With arguments there is a conflict of opinions, and this many times has been known to lead to enlightenment.
I am a liar. Earlier I said that I do not love or hate. I stated it knowing full well that it is not so. Thus, I lied. For I love to hate and I hate to love. Only the man above can decide my fate. I, just a man, not great, sometimes good, sometimes bad – but most often sad. My tears – dry before they fall – know no hope. Justifying a dope, I still give it my all. For my tears will pass, sorrow will last, but my heart won't fail.
But tears are just water. They can be shed in sorrow or joy. The heart is just a muscle doing its job, efficiently but with no emotion.
I am a mere human. A mass of protein and nucleic acid. I am the result of millions of years of evolution. Cells grouping together, taking on individual functions to better serve the whole. My blood, devoid of its cells and proteins, is just seawater. A soul is untouchable, so it does not exist.
I have no soul.
I do not love and cannot hate.
Therefore I am.
But I don't care…
P.S. I love starting out a weird article
(I thought they were all weird), but
by the time I reach the end I hate it!
(Is that why they're always extra short?)
I just added this to make it a little l o n g e r.