Words In My Head

2012 Woman

2012-01-05T11:07:00.000-06:00

My voice is quivering as I try to be a man.
I stumble through the door to who I am.
The clothes I wear are bare, lacking color or flare.
I'm honest and open like a book in your hands.
Please, I pray, you listen to my plans.
We can go find a place far away,
with rivers,
with mountains,
where our children can play.
Our life will be lived a humble way.
We will give thanks for our food and pray everyday.

Dear Future Wife

2011-12-25T22:17:00.001-06:00

Thank you...
...for being my friend.
...for listening when I'm quiet.
...for caring when no one else does.
...for being honest.
...for loving me through my selfishness.
...for making me laugh.
...for helping me when I fall and pushing me when I stall.

You are my greatest company and always have a place next to me.

Dear Sam From the last 5 years,

2011-11-07T10:57:00.001-06:00

Dude, first off, chill out! Emo much? I get it, you got your heart broken and you're a wimpy little sap who likes to cuddle. You act like you get angry but cry before you can get there.

Here's some advice. Don't get angry and don't cry, jes'. Save it for significant things like a baby being born or something. Walk outside your front door and shake someone's hand. Then go jog around the pond at the park and figure out what you really want to do for the rest of your life. Cause we still haven't figured that out.

-Sam 11-7-11

Dear Reader

2011-09-17T17:54:00.000-05:00

Today is Saturday. It feels like a Wednesday.

I work at night and come home tired.

I sleep during the day and live life expired.

Tomorrow's Sunday, the next day's Monday.

I stay up late to think and create.

A new week to progress, a new project to express.

Yesterday is gone. Today is here.

Every new day, I'll be sincere.

The Valley In the Desert

2011-09-01T06:02:00.002-05:00

The thin frail man looked up. Beaten by the heat, he squinted with exhaustion and radiated with a flush face. His throat was dry and skin was blistered. He paused for a moment, almost finding rest from the sun on his back. He has watched his shadow in front of him for, what felt like, an eternity. He prayed his shadow would return the favor and make him unseen to the sun.

"The sun," he whined in his head, too parched to speak. It scorched the sand and rock like Hell's welcome matt.

The land's thirsty orange surface resounded with chiseled character off the valley walls. He saw a distant low valley that cut through the horizon and imagined the water that once was so plentiful as to divide such indelible masses of rock. He found familiarity in the subtle brilliance of natural preservation.

"Visual cognition," he thought. The seemingly trivial college note from 5 years ago suddenly didn't seem so insignificant. He spun around, quickly mentally logging each peak and plane, valley and line, looking for an attack point, a weakness in the deserts grip. He contemplated his next step with such concentration and intent, his knees nearly buckled under the weight of thought.

"It'll have to be down," he said, fixing his attention to a distant valley where water was sure to be flowing. The thought of fresh cold clean melted mountain water made his eyes pull for tears, but none came. He was a dried up man. Time was slipping away as fast as the shadows crawled.

With each elevation drop, he noticed more vegetation. Not soft or bright, but hard, rough vegetation which could fight off the harsh evils of the desert.

"It will be night soon", he tried to tell himself.

His hollow thought had long been emptied of empathy for a relenting sun. Unconvinced of his lie, he continued. He committed to that first unnerving step. He began winding through the desert's forest of tall, unsparing cactus. He, so badly, wished this was a bad dream and he could simply cheat this cruel maze, jump over the prodding wildlife, and dip his face into the crisp blue waters of consciousness.

Knowing You

2011-07-11T12:04:00.000-05:00

Knowing you is knowing me,
Pain creeps in and won't let me be.
The lose I live still follows blind,
thought it would lose itself behind.
The rock I kick crumbles,
time is hard to pass when all the world grumbles.
Firetrucks yell clear as a bell from my bed.
Life is hell because I fell in my head.
Knee's are bleeding but not from pleading.
Laugh off what I lost. I don't say what I let loose.
Self-inflicted for little use.
Close my eyes tight,
see you lying naked in the light.
Knowing you, my memories have won,
dream of yesterday 'til tomorrow's sun.

Oblivious

2011-06-14T22:24:00.000-05:00

Oblivious brother bouncing door to door,
Preaching, traveling shore to shore,
Condemning man along the way,
You filter hate with what you say,
Guilting young and robbing old
of all those things you'll never hold.

You wash your food with ignorance
and eat with little substance.
It's safe to blame the strange,
But in the end, estrange.

These people you fight,
the evil you "conquer",
is your neighbor in light,
and leaving you gaunter.

You waste away with weight,
always feeling urged.
The seeds you sow, are hate,
needing to be purged.

State of Mind

2011-05-27T03:04:00.004-05:00

Tennessee, I've been quiet for so long. My words have been short and my thoughts have been fervent.
I know you'll listen, I just don't have the words to share. I hope you see the joy you bring. I hope you seek that same. Don't settle for less and don't worry about the mess.

Illinois, keep steady. You're on the right track. Keep close friends and rarely will you lack. Remember that cities can swallow people whole. Stress inevitably takes its' toll. Priorities are the golden rule and it's always ok to request a stool. Standing's fine but eventually you'll redline.

Texas, be kind. You're unforgettable but not always for the characters you want. Be honest, to yourself and others. Each day is a blessing, each relationship, a gift. Glass shatters frequently on long trips. Bubble rap helps. It's ok to find your bubble rap. Use it, don't abuse it. All walls fall. Don't build yours too tall. The best craftsmen have calluses and happiness isn't measured by ounces.

Release

2011-04-28T00:39:00.001-05:00

My brain is fried from all those lies.
I'm overwhelmed with ache and grief,
my shoes no longer fit my feet.
I'm aging fast and growing small,
my dreams get far and start to fall.
I lose my views from crowds around,
people saying I'm hell-bound.
But all I do is sit and stare,
listen in on all their prayers.
I piece together my odd hands,
play and gamble until I'm a man.
I laugh a lot to ease my pain
and cry a lot when love's to blame.
My life's my own and I'm content.
God only knows my true intent.

50 Reasons Why I'm A Catch

2011-02-24T04:23:00.000-06:00

1. I am friendly.

2. I clean without being asked.

3. I'm naturally warm blooded (like a space heater).

4. I don't get migraines.

5. I know how to say the alphabet backwards, slowly.

6. I can believe it's not butter.

7. I hate Nickleback.

8. I know how to make fire.

9. I have battle scars.

10. My palms get sweaty when I get nervous.

11. My favorite movie is Stranger than Fiction.

12. I'm not good at first shooter video games.

13. I know how many megabytes are in a gigabyte.

14. My favorite color is green because of my 1st grade crush.

15. The U.S. economy doesn't stress me out.

16. I can fix your stubbed toe.

17. I enjoy cooking.

18. I know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie-pop.

19. I've never seen High School Musical.

20. I'm not a good lier.

21. I sing in the shower.

22. I like to spoon.

23. I've never lost at Monopoly.

24. I can relate.

25. I can fix it.

26. ...because you're worth it.

27. I'm Irish... yet sensitive.

28. I can always ring the carnival bell.

29. I won't donkey punch you.

30. I'm not on Megan's List.

31. I'm not the deadliest catch, but I'm pretty witty.

33. I can run a marathon.

34. I don't get motion sickness.

35. I live in the state of Chuck Norris (literally).

36. I dream in color.

37. I've never won at Hungry Hungry Hippo.

38. I will never "let you win" at Hungry Hungry Hippo.

39. I'll half stand every time you leave the table.

40. I always walk closest to the road.

41. My shoulder is more absorbent than a tissue.

42. I was born with a hand like Spiderman.

43. I know ballet.

44. I will be your tiny dancer.

45. I built a house.

46. I'm a brick house.

47. I've eaten green eggs and ham... and liked it.

48. I avoid getting caught in the rain but would cherish it with you.

49. I don't like pneumonia.

50. I'm single.

The Art of Seduction

2011-01-31T03:36:00.002-06:00

Lately I've been staying up late watching foreign films, most of them French, and I mentioned one of them to a friend of mine. It's about a young man who has trouble discerning dreams from reality. This man is trying to win the heart of a young woman who lives in the adjacent apartment from him. A man at his work keeps giving him chauvinistic advise to stop being a chicken and just sleep with her. He uses the word "seduce" a few times in the film. I was explaining to my friend how it was slightly difficult to understand which parts of the film were meant to be strange and which parts were odd because of the difference in culture.
A few days later that same friend and I went to the movie theatre. We watched a "psyochosexual thriller" that's portrayed in a very artsy way. One of the main male characters (whom I think was suppose to be French) "seduces" the lead actress, but honestly, it looked more forced than captivating.
After the movie, we talked about how the movie portrayed seduction and my friend asked if that's what I though seduction was. Since I told him about that French film, and since he thought French people were suppose to be the romantic ones, he wondered if seduction actually looked closer to the movie... closer to rape.
Seduction is power without force, confidence without arrogance, and trepidation without fear. I told him that I thought the movies had it all wrong. "Yes," I thought, "seduction is all these things... but not forced."
What do I know though, I'm not French.

Modern Day Dilemma

2010-12-07T02:00:00.000-06:00

Time moves on quicker and bogs memories as the fog gets thicker. The constant motion of life and changing plight keeps me on my toes. No one knows what tomorrows bring or when or if our fortune bell will ring. Covers come off in the morning and no day's wasted on the chronic man. I spend a life span working on my ironic plan; work all day to rest and play.

Hidden Song

2010-10-11T02:16:00.004-05:00

Your walls are tall and built with brick. Your defense is strong and words are quick.
I bend, break and pry for your sake. I hear your croons and tunes you make.
Lured in like a passing sailor, you capture me like a county jailer.
Your songs don't come from your voice, rather deeper down when you made a choice.
God gave you a song, your life to live. When you sing, you belong, your gift to give.
Your voice carries endeavor, your mind, success to measure.
But you burden yourself with fearing failure of fame and inflict yourself with undeserved blame.
Open your lips and feel the hardships fade away.

Worship

2010-09-23T03:11:00.000-05:00

The quiet music builds. I've forgotten the peace of mind in grace. I lift up my voice as a cry for freedom from the standards and quotas of this world. The atmosphere is radically changed. My soul delights. Water bursts from the everlasting springs to remind me how little I understand. I am humble once again.

Same As Yesterday

2010-09-21T01:11:00.003-05:00

I want that secret someone. I want that girl I can't stand to be away. I want to come home to my apartment, take off my shoes, drop the weight of the world and lay next to her. I want to wake up knowing she stayed near me while I dreamt. Her presents alone guards off my fears.

The more I live, the less I see this coming true. It seems every month my hopes get more and more faint. I get close to a girl with optimism of a different outcome and am disappointed with the same.

I want to give up. I feel foolish for expecting something different. I want it to rain. I want the world to go grey and leave me alone in my bed. I want sleep to drown me if I could only close my eyes.

Forget It All

2010-08-31T23:38:00.001-05:00

A dry summer breeze rushes between the leaves of a tree rooted in the center of a green waving pasture. Sitting just under the shade, is a single yellow flower growing tall and full. It would seem out of place if it weren't framed so perfectly into its space. Wide open sky soar over head as clusters of clouds float by like billowing masses of ships.

Time creeps by as the shade shifts around with the sun.

Trial and Error

2010-08-22T05:11:00.002-05:00

Yes, this is yet another late lonely night. I am awake thinking about the meaning of life, true love, and how to put it into words some new profound way but nothing is coming to me. I am having, what some would call, writers block.

It's very frustrating. I feel like I have all this pent-up emotion but don't know how to express it. Usually when I'm in this situation I just go straight to honesty. I dig deep inside myself and pull out how I really feel.

Today, I feel like that dead dog has been beaten to a fine pulp. I'm exhausted at dissecting love and life. I'm drained from typing something a thousand ways and still hover over the delete key because I don't like the way it sounds.

I think the most useful information I got from school was "trial and error". No matter how many books you read, people you talk to, movies or shows you watch, you will never fully understand life or love until you walk out the front door and realize there are a lot of trials and errors.

There's no shame in learning what not to do, so long as you learn. Learning doesn't happen from failure itself but rather from analyzing the failure, making a change, and then trying again.

The Sheriff

2010-07-26T01:05:00.009-05:00

The horses feet were restless, stamping dust into the golden air as the deputy pulled back his reins. His leather saddle rubbed against his worn clothes. With every stomp, came the sound of his silver spurs jingling anxiously. The lanky deputy wiped the sweat from his thin brow with his red faded plaid shirt. He slapped his hands down onto the saddle horn, looked down the tracks, then swung his head back at the sheriff.

The badge burned bright with the glare of the setting sun. The sheriff sat tall on his horse. It stood steadfast, fearsome, and still. Its lungs would flood with air and through its muzzle, came the sound of power. His hat sat low as he peered under the brim. His six shooters, on either hip, waited to whistle deaths song.

Like a mirage, waving in the heat, the train appeared in the distance. Its engine chugged on like an Indian war cry. As it approached, the deputies horse became more impatient. The deputy yanked the reins left, pulling the horse into organized turmoil. The deputy glanced at the sheriff for a response but the sheriffs mien was unwavering. The sheriff knew the trouble would come to him and before long, it had.

The train hist and kicked as it came to a halt almost directly in front of the two lawmen. A gust of wind caught up to the train and blew up a small sand storm. The sheriff dipped his hat to shield his eyes. As the sand settled, so did, it seemed, everything around them. The sheriff bellowed out a deep command toward the, now exhausted, beast of wood and steel. A cargo door slid open two carts back, splitting the silence in half like a knife.

The makeshift gang stood there in the doorway, guns drawn and young blood ready to spill. The leader grinned as his lawless eyes went dark. The sheriff raised his head as slowly as the sun crowned the hillside, matching the outlaws eyes. The face of the sheriff was bold, his eyes glazed with the absent fear of death, or life, for that matter. The wrinkles on his face depicted a long life, lived honorably. His clothes, covered in remnants of the west, made him both transparent and outstanding.

He then heard the cold crisp unmistakable sound of a revolver hammer being cocked next to his ear. Had this of been any other time, the sheriff just as soon shot the second he heard that sound. But he didn't. He kept his head still, raised his left brow and peered from the side.

The deputy was holding his single-action revolver right at the sheriffs temple. The sheriff kept his poker face but might as well of been dead from the shock on the inside. When his heart caught up to him, the deputy was side-stepping his horse closer to the train, the gun still aimed at the sheriff's head.

The sheriff sighed remorsefully. He took one last look at the sunset and the hill where his house sat. Then, with the fluidity of water and the speed of lighting, he pulled his right gun out, danced on the hammer with his left hand, and kept his trigger moving. Thunder roared through the plain.

His gun was empty as fast as he drew it. Each of the outlaws wore a hole between their eyes. He saw smoke waving from the tips of their guns but didn't hear the noise. He tasted metal. Dark red saliva dripped out of his mouth as he looked down to confirm what he already knew. He wore a chest plate of blood. He felt the dead load of the bullets inside like fish weight at the bottom of his stomach. The sun had set and the cold desert air invaded him.

He looked back up at the deputy, whose face was filled with torment. The deputy stumbled onto the train cart, never taking his eyes of the sheriff. He watched as the sheriffs eyes faded and his body fell back onto the rear of this horse; his arms flung wide like angel's wings and a surrendering of his soul.

Possibilities

2010-07-06T02:17:00.000-05:00

You walk into the room and my blood rushes, my face flush, but I try to hold composure. Fireworks set off in my chest. I hold excitement just below my vocals. When I speak, it's subtle in my pitch. It's like trying to settle an orchestra before a performance when all I want to do is let it play. When you hears it, you'd realize how perfect our melodies mesh.

But you don't even know, and if you did, you wouldn't care. I can't make you happy. My music isn't the money making kind. It's the pure and untouched, the legendary Mozart, the romantic Mahler, impervious to time and cynicism.

You sit by me. I die. Taking every breath as my last, I make sure not to move too quickly. As if I were sitting next to a timid dove, I patently and carefully choose my moves. Every finger twitch, elbow rub, and couch budge are scrutinized to the last detail. I'm now more still than a garden statue. You adjust and move a hair closer to me. Panic pounds my heart faster when I realize we'll soon be touching after one more casual adjustment. And without warning, we touch. We are sitting on the couch, touching, your body to mine, with nothing between us but the clothes we have on.

My heart can't take anymore when I realize I haven't been breathing. Once oxygen reaches my brain, I see how childish I'v become in just minutes. I try to shake of these feelings by trying to remember how I couldn't make you happy, how I'm inept and inferior to so many better suitors. I'm doing such a good job of reminding myself that I don't notice your hand touching mine. I want it so badly to be intentional but my heart won't let me believe. Every heart has a safety net that will only let you long for something so hard until you let it go. That feeling, of letting go, it's like your body becomes liquid and your limbs don't belong to you anymore. The black hole in your stomach just seems to grow and the room starts to spin.

And when your finger slid over mine as subtle as I was trying to be, I was terrified and overwhelmed with joy. After your pinky came your ring finger and like a cascade, your hand was on mine. You knew and I knew. Without words. I could feel your heart racing through your fingers. You were as terrified as I was. The only thing that made us sane was that we were terrified together. In that moment, anything is possible. It's like finding out you have the ability to fly when all your life you've been afraid of heights.

Gone But Not For Rot

2010-06-29T01:59:00.000-05:00

How gracefully are we suppose to step back into sanity? How hard do we fall when a relationship is broken? Do I boil and burn or sulk in sadness? Do I sit and stare and dwell into madness?

My heart aches and my focus breaks but I know that I must move on. If I sit too still my memory catches up with me but I can't run forever and I try not to remember all those moments of happiness.

I recite to myself that everything changes, life comes at us in stages. Whether we're ready or we're not, whether we've found what we've sought.

Third Grade

2010-06-03T02:38:00.003-05:00

The church I grew up in had an annual cook-off where all the families would come together and camp on one large piece of forested private property. They had trail rides, tree swings, zip lines, outdoor movie theatres, and lots of chillie. The last one I can remember going to was in the third grade when I had a terrible crush on this little angle, Jillian Biglane.

This is the same girl who went to private school with me. After school, she and I would go across to street to where the sixth and seventh graders would practice track and cross-country. I remember one day trying to impress her by keeping up with her while running backwards. To put it bluntly, we don't run like that for a reason. I fell flat onto my back and hit my head on the hard caliche road.

That year at the cook-off, we snuck away from all our friends and the parents. We met, what felt like the background of the events, at the tree swing in the evening just as the stars started to sparkle. We were quiet, comfortable in the moment, and thrilled with delight. I pushed her and every returning swing, I smelt her shampoo scent. I wanted that moment to last forever. It was the first time I had chareshed time with a girl. It was the first time my hands got sweaty and I felt the unsettling pleasure of butterflies in my stomach. Inoccent, pure, and honest.

Cry Baby's Got Nothin' On Me

2010-05-08T03:35:00.000-05:00

I don't cry as much now as much as I did when I was younger. I say "younger" instead of "child" because I was a sensitive teenager. I felt a lot of things I'd say most kids my age may not have even thought about. I didn't realize how taboo crying was until I really got to college.

Sometimes I'd lay in bed in my dorm and have an overwhelming feeling of sadness. It felt like all my tears for that night would come out as one big tear. It'd start from the corner of my eye by my nose and roll... down... my cheek. When if finally reached my lips, it would follow the crease in like a valley. And just when I thought that was going to be it, a second and third tear follow the same salty path the first one took.

Other nights I'd absolve my crying into a shower. The water would mute my tears but I was left with quiet pain at night. I'd lay there for hours wondering if I would ever fall asleep.

There would be days when I'm driving home from school and begin with a grimace. The expression seemed to get stronger as the magnetic emotion came over me. My eyes would bat and my vision would blur from the forming tears. I'd have to wipe my eyes like windshield wipers to see the road.

On some occasions, for no good reason, I would feel like crying. Not just crying, I would feel like bawling.

I cried for the first time in a long time the other day. But it wasn't any more than two or three tears. I feel like my body's built a dam as I've grown up. As if the dam is so full, tears have begun to spill over. I just hope no one's around to see the dam collapse. I don't think they'd understand.

Self-contempt

2010-05-08T02:39:00.000-05:00

I've been a beaten battered ship along the lonely coast. I've been a weak defense against the things I want most. I've been a hot and heated pot boiling within myself. I've been years of dust collecting on the shelf. I've been words spread thin, dried out in the sun. I've been broken in and forced to run. I've been played like the family piano and trusted just the same. I've been known for nothing and labeled with that name. I've been sick of what I am and how long I've fought. I've been sitting here wondering how long I'll take to rot.

Arbitrary

2010-03-28T03:00:00.000-05:00

I remember as a kid thinking about who I'd become when I grew up. I had standards for myself, like never to smoke or get drunk. I promised myself that when I become a dad, I'd never hit my kids or lose control and scream at them.

I used to have fantasies about living in a tree house and driving everywhere on a dirt bike. Other times I'd imagine everyone in the world just disappeared. I'd crews the streets in any car I wanted. I would go into a gas-station and take all the bubble gum and ice cream I wanted. I had taken into consideration that I might one day get lonely, so I stipulated in my dreams that people were only temporarily gone.

As I got older, my dreams matured and altered with me. I started dreaming of being alone on this earth, but with the entire female population. For some mysterious reason the entire male population vanished, leaving me the only man on earth. Now I'm fantasizing about getting a fulfilling job and traveling.

Yep, times change, or more accurately, time changes me. I don't hang out with the same friends, I don't have the same views as I did when I was a kid, and I don't have the same standards.

I don't know what all this means... probably nothing. But I recognize it and am self-aware.

Requite

2010-03-21T17:10:00.000-05:00

The time lapses from cloudy and grey to sunny like May, and with many days comes the occasional rain. It floods the creeks and dams for weeks with washed up leaves and limbs. The bridge that burned seems trifling when nature takes its toll and fills back the hole. Like two magnates polar opposite, these two sides requite with earths deposit. A connection is made with sticks and rocks and stones and bones. These things are piled up from places unknown. It takes more work to keep from building up than to watch nature rebuild its own when left alone.

Omelette of Memories

2010-02-22T12:45:00.000-06:00

You're closer than a friend
yet I held you at arms end.
I longed for our perfection
and hung myself on this perception.
Your face is stuck in my head
and all the words that you said.
About the moments we had,
both the happy and the sad.
I remember our growling tummies
and how the noises were funny.
We always worked up an appetite
from those long sleepless nights.
I wish I had recorded
the first time you farted.
Your face was so innocent
and I never did mention it.
You cared for me like nothing I've ever known,
as if I finally found my chimney home.
My heart for you to hold,
my loneliness bid and sold.
Exchanged for Sunday lit mornings
and the occasional snoring.

We were two eskimos spooning,
laying warmly in your bed.
Tomorrow always looming,
leaving lots of things unsaid.

I wish I would have told you
about the demons in my head.
Instead I let them brew
and watch confusion get fed.

Not sure if I should remember or forget,
I'm trying to learn without regret.
I put these memories on the shelf
and look at them when I doubt myself.
Days now are hard and hectic,
forgetting when times were scenic.
We used to talk for hours
and stay together even in showers.

You caught me broadside
that night at the party.
I sang and I cried
with my composure left faulty.

You hit me, hard right
the night of our fight.
You called me furious
but I was unconscious.

I woke up reviled,
tattered and maimed.
We reconciled
but it just wasn't the same.

I held on to that pain
to remember its name.
To hold it by the throat
and have it to quote.
So it never came around
and it caused me to drowned.
I held on with all things weighted
my failure I had already fated.
I say this now looking back,
it wasn't perfection that we lack.
I was afraid it would end just like my past.
Life would happen and it wouldn't last.

Man

2010-01-12T16:36:00.000-06:00

Where did all the good men go? Standing as a pedestal for his sons and daughters to reach higher. Noble is so bold, so old, so forgotten. Selfish seeps in like a snake in the night. The venom runs deep now in the blood line of our children. Grey grandfather knew hard work and honest life. His hands tough and weathered, signs of genuine love.

My blood is bold. My forefathers, I thank. My hands will callus for love. My heart will bleed for the hearts of my sons.

Money

2010-01-12T16:20:00.000-06:00

It brings out the worst in people, morally and emotionally. People are on the edge of death and we walk on by. Leverage. Separation. Equal opportunity works in a perfect world. This world is failing and I am fading.

Burn It Down

2010-01-12T02:14:00.000-06:00

Kerosene, gasoline, the fire starts here. Light the match that burns hotter than the anger from the year. These are the days when stones are placed for walking and walls are made for blocking. Say the words that we take to the grave when it's too late for our souls to save. The bridge creaks and groans as it bellows its last goodbye. The winds from the heat whisper a sweet sigh. It's over and done and terrifying to see. I only wish in the end it was me. These flames, vicious, your acts, malicious. Not fire with fire just sick of this mire. No need to come back, the crossing is gone. With my head up high, I look toward the dawn.

Taking Over

2009-12-31T16:18:00.001-06:00

The leaves fall like rain, I feel the wind blowing me away.
Spring time comes with broken hearts, it's just the start of something new.
Days go by with the blink of an eye and I sit here wondering why.

Yesterday fell, so hard on its face. Today gets up, and finds its own place.

Every day I feel like crying, I lost the will to keep on trying.
Whether it be, you or me, it's time to face our naïvety.

A lost love is everything a lost soul needs,
To complete the deepest grievance ever known.

Why here, and why now,
Who says, and who knows,

Right here, and right now,
I say, and I know it's taking over me.

It's taking, taking, it's taking over me.
Taking, taking, it's taking over me.

Be bold and take hold,
It's taking over me.

2009

2009-12-29T11:13:00.002-06:00

This year, I got just a little bit closer to understanding love, as impossible as that may be. I finally saw a heart up close. I felt it. It was warm and soothing to feel the beats. They are such fragile things with the power of a double edged sword.

Lately I've been at a loss for words. I think this is because this year has challenged almost all my previous perceptions of love. The point is, I'm 22 and learning. I've never been married. I'm not 100 years old with wisdom of a saint. I'm a young man with the free will to love whoever I choose. I avoid heartbreak as much as possible, I kiss when kissed, I think before speaking, I forget, I remember, I mess up, I make up, I admit, I love. My heart used to sit on my sleeve. It's a little harder to do these days.

I learned that no matter how pure and honest your intentions are, the world can manipulate and misconstrue every step of the way. And all I can do is walk away. People will believe what they want to believe. Life will go on. Days will get cloudy, but the storm will pass.

Four Days

2009-12-06T05:02:00.005-06:00

Stay up late, contemplate. It's been four days and still I ache. Check my phone, check my mail, check my mind and then exhale. No happiness. Guilt, blame, and bitter pain. It hurts. It's not the same.

Still

2009-12-06T05:02:00.003-06:00

The truth is, I sit and write, day and night, rewrite, un-write, throw away, start over, sit, think, write, "right?", wrong, trash. I don't know how to say what I want to say. I want it perfect. I want us perfect. But this isn't a perfect world and I am only human.

The night I met you, butterflies flew, flapped their wings and I knew. It was the story behind the eyes that drew me into you. I have never been cared for so intimately. I don't argue how we met, whether fate or serendipity. I am simply grateful and thankful for you.

Unknown November

2009-12-06T03:55:00.000-06:00

I don't know... I don't know anymore. When I start to get a grasp on what is going on, on what I'm doing here, where I'm suppose to be... things start to fall apart and everything changes. For the sake of sanity and everyone around me, I wish I knew.

I wish I knew me better. I wish I knew why I ruin what's good in my life. Is there really a problem or is it in my head? Why am I so scared to let something good happen?

My eyes are so heavy. Winter lays on top of me for now and I will try to sleep long. Time needs to pass. Spring will be here soon and I will take advantage to grow in the warm sun.

I'm just not the same... empty, disoriented, pessimistic, unmotivated, and unhappy. That's not who I am. That's never who I've been. What's happening to me? Why can't I figure out what's going on?!

Another One

2009-10-28T22:09:00.006-05:00

I hear whispers of "wake up" but this dream has me head-locked into submission of nauseating ache and disillusionment. It's a night terror that's beginning to feel like a routine swallow of uncomfortable toleration. The scene is set. The rolls are played. I look devastation in the face. I watch the peddles fall one by one from the one I love. My heart is slowly and consummately torn. My breath fails to return to me and I stand there fading in plain sight. Numbness consumes my flesh and blood. My soul has died with my love. I weep. I weep? Pain is still prevalent? I wake.

I gasp from the pain that has stalked me to my consciousness. The twisted sheets circles my body with a halo of sweat. My heavy breathing dampens the sound of my pounding heart. I sit up and wonder when it will end.

Fear

2009-10-28T20:52:00.002-05:00

So much fear in such a small place. The universe stretches on for life times yet all we know is the fear in our face. It's the fear we wake up to every morning. It's the fear that keeps us up at night. Hot beads of sweat suffocate our dreams. We thrust lights on, bolt doors, build barriers, and still it haunts our souls.

We fight at... nothing. Something's there, but we swing and have no satisfaction in destruction of anything, scream but can't hear the echos of anger.

Quiet Light

2009-10-21T14:12:00.023-05:00

The curtains frame the gray sky and the window panes transform the light as I watch you sleep. You lay still under a blue lit room. Silence swallows the world and we are left alone. Tempting illumination graces your silk peach skin, your face glows with sincerity and innocence. My eyes explore your silhouette as my hand falls gently onto your side. It slides down your supple skin as I brase firmly, your lush curves. I drift in and out of sleep as time drifts with us.

Contradistinction of Adoration

2009-10-06T01:46:00.006-05:00

Contusion, confusion, no conclusion, a freight train of pain. Love falls like rain, washing away worries, miniscule flurries, like the old stories. It feels impressed and preserved with the seal of years of Clark Gables and fairy tale fables. Til thunder strikes and pikes the spikes of divorce and diverge, of difference and distance. We run like ants, everything to fear, losing everything we hold dear.

I am insane, inane, sick of games. I want you happy, you make me sappy. I want you content, you make me resent. I am deranged, drained, and proclaimed. I am vivacious, audacious, and free. This is what you make me.

Deep Sleep

2009-09-25T01:52:00.005-05:00

Sleep falls heavy. Eyes weak and resistance weaker. My mind drains to a declining drip. Traffic of thought and worry fade quickly. The body tingles of urgency to rest. Breathing pulses in the background before the shades close and the show begins. Quiet, dark, alone, and asleep with peace.

Anger

2009-09-22T22:55:00.010-05:00

Thrash, smash, break, violate. I hate, I hate, I don't hesitate to throw out, throw away, total dismay. My skin boils the more I sit, I want to hit, kick, grab and stab. I'm pissed off. I'm angry. This is me, not passive, not quiet, not nice, not pleasant. I'm wrong, I'm out of place, I'm not giving a fuck. I'm tired of caring and people starring at the man with good morals. Punched the wall until my knuckles bled, scream until my hearing's dead. Take the bat to the tree and start a destruction spree. Kill the humane, choke the righteous, drown the witty, but most of all show no pity. Weak never worked, I'm always hurt and now I'm angry.

Fireworks in September

2009-09-22T16:04:00.006-05:00

Fireworks in September change everything about the season, every previous notion. The colors fill my soul with passion. Explosions of red shimmer, light up the darkness with zeal of love and lust. Orange and yellow flares fly by like spontaneous and sporadic pleasures life often reveals when we least expect. Some are staggering but short lived while others blaze across the sky like the longest shooting star. Dark blue bulbs fire off like cannons of dull ache and longing but quickly dissolve into the heavy black canvas. But with every color, emotion, heart break or heart wake, there is a constant sign of light accompanying. The white lights flood the sky with clarity, purity, and possibility like the intensity and brilliance of ignited magnesium.

Though the lights are passing, this clarity is lasting.

Career (All Bets Off)

2009-08-14T00:11:00.004-05:00

There was a time in my life when I thought the only jobs to choose from were firefighters, policemen, and doctors. I think this had something to do with the influence of a Fisher Price toy I was given one Christmas.

Fast-forward a few years and I am overwhelmed with such wide variety of career paths. Living in the time period that I do, I'm given so much choice. It wasn't that long ago when you simply picked up a trade and went with it because it was available. I don't think a lot of Americans realize how dramatically the Industrial Revolution changed our career opportunities, not to mention our entire way of living, but that's a topic for another time.

When I graduated high school I was about seventy percent sure which direction I wanted to head. Film interested me, I loved those pinnacle moments in movies of love, hate, rage, sadness. The deepest of emotion shown almost flawlessly is what attracted me to the medium. My next decision was whether to go to film school or do the four years of college just like everybody else. It boiled down to cost and real life implementation. A four year school would give me a golden ticket called a bachelor, redeemable at any participating job offers. Where as, film school would teach me the "know-how" and tell me to "network". Looking back, I'm still quite confident in my decision to attend a four year school. However, after three years of vigorous studying and "all-nighters", I truly question my career path.

Within one semester I had thought about changing my major to sociology, dance, photography, and even dropping out to attend culinary school. Often times I think about joining the military after college simply for the life experience and traveling. I see two alternate life paths in my mind like a scifi. I wonder how different my life would be if I joined. How different would my perspective become on life and war? The more I experience first hand, the more I am able to relate and understand others.

Whether I become a firefighter, psychologist, or unknown film-maker, I'm just happy to ride the wave of unpredictability.

Summer Weight

2009-07-29T20:57:00.002-05:00

I remember as a kid when summer came around and nothing else mattered. Slowly as I grew up, those three carefree months became shorter. I no longer play in the sprinkler, or ride my bike down to the corner store to by Bazooka Bubble Gum and an ice cream Drum Stick. My summers now are filled with flakey jobs, high gas prices, and 100 degree temperatures.

Three days ago I laid flat on my back, looked up at the flaring dark Texas night sky and watched the International Space Station float by like a firefly. The feeling was surreal. I felt gravity holding me back as I reached off the face of the earth, as if one more step would release me, into eternity. My peripheral vision made it feel like I could see the contour of this relatively tiny planet as I looked out into space.

Today I realized that all my childhood adventures were still here. And the troubles of todays summers were present even back then, I just hadn't really focused on them. I was concentrating my attention on the wrong aspects of summer. It wasn't until I, quite literally, laid back and watched the world go-round that I saw what I was missing.

What Will Be, Soon, Will Have Been

2009-06-01T20:33:00.003-05:00

Last night I flew the coop. I ignited a fire and furry flew. That which felt inevitable, consumed all good moral and consciousness. The lines were blurred from reality to fiction. And all I can say is... que sera sera.

Maturing or Disconnecting

2009-05-26T23:50:00.005-05:00

Today I found myself worrying about tomorrow, concerned about what I would be doing or needed to get done approximately 12 hours from that very moment I was standing there, living and breathing. It's fascinating to me how I can becoming so disconnected to the world when, at the same time, I feel I am become more in tune with the structure of its society.

All I seem to hear these days is how much school costs, jumping from job to job, trying to graduate "on time", preparing for that internship, sticking to the plan!

The fact is... life isn't something you can plan. God didn't throw us on this earth and say, "Ok, now go get your degree. When I get back, you better have that house on the lake, 2.5 kids, and a dog that doesn't eat your slippers."

I refuse to become a slave to societies quotas! I'm beyond tired of people trying to tell me what I need to do and when I need to do it by. Without even realizing it, I've started to become "functional" in the madness we call a society. It terrifies me to think of all the imagination, inspiration, and individualism we give up as we grow up, not to mention the time we waste planning.

Fame

2009-05-13T00:56:00.001-05:00

I wonder how easily fame corrupts the most honest of men. It
fascinates me like Pandoras Box. I feel I will never completely
understand until I see it first hand, until I've become just as naive
as all the others.

But is it possible to live balanced? Can one learn to ignore flashing
cameras and stinging tabloids day in and day out? Is it worth ones
privacy to be familiarized by so many? I am curious yet wary as the
consequences may be irreparable.

My Nightmare

2009-04-18T16:22:00.009-05:00

Three times shot in the side without a sound. We go out the front door quickly, careful not to spill a drop of blood. The day is suspended and played slowly, viewed with a filter of remorse blue.

I want to cry. I want my tears to make you better. I want this lump in my throat to choke me completely. But I must go on and fix what I made wrong.

You hang onto me as I drag you to a motorcycle, keys in and ready. My hands are trembling to the point I cannot turn the key. I hear you breathing softer. With the weight of your lungs and lame body, I must go. I must make it right.

A quick breath of consciousness allows me to start the bike. Although this is my first time, I know how to ride, I must. First to second to third in jolts and sprints as you, pail and pained, hold fragilely. The wet trees blur down the dark black back road. I feel my heart pulsing on the throttle. The bike tires roll along the road as the world turns, taking me closer to my destination, to my desperation.

Like second nature, my hand grips the brake. We have made it to the hospital with the yellow lights. All my anxiety is bled out through a murderous scream for help. The nurses come running to take you, my young brother, away. Like fire from my eyes, and rain from the skies, tears pour out leaving me nothing to disguise. I fall on the ground, soaking in the water from a puddle, dripping from the blood of your ribs, crying out to wake up from this pain, guilt, and bloody nightmare.

The Best Man

2009-03-31T03:40:00.003-05:00

You fall into the web of wedlock. Captured from the younger years, you drift off into the sea of bills, pacifiers, daily routines, and the occasional freedom from machines.

A day has ended with the sun setting, not sure if it went over your head or mine. If only we had more time and a crystal ball, would the day end the way we want it to? Are we able to reverse the sun and watch it sail away over the eastern sea?

Drunk and angry, the blue october past by painfully like the Titanic to the iceberg. Two months later you tell me you're gone. The ship is at the cold bottom with the scaled fish. You are in your state of content.

My Puzzle

2009-03-16T00:36:00.003-05:00

I wonder how my puzzle will be pieced together. Glimpse's of a bigger picture scattered across the floor and when it's time to assemble the art, how many parts will be missing? How many pieces will not fit, how many will be fabricated or jammed in to fit? Will the task be taken slowly and maturely or rushed to blur any flaws?

There are pieces for miles headed West on that black top home. There are pieces down by the creek with the ole' bamboo fishing pole. They're in dorms, bottles, beds, down Lavaca, outside donut shops, behind liquor stores, and beneath the ever present stars. Some friends hold more pieces than they realize, others have thrown out what I've entrusted to them.

Unless all the pieces are found, can you see the picture clearly? Clear enough? Can the puzzle be solved even if pieces are missing? Will you ever fully see or understand? I hope.

To Be Wed In March

2009-03-14T01:46:00.005-05:00

March comes loudly like a parade of nostalgia down Memory Lane. Festivity all around mixed in with some floats you enjoy and others you would love to avoid. It's entertaining either way.

A tragedy has its dark humor and inappropriate irony while comedy is all too obvious and predictable yet assuredly to bring a laugh.

Park Bench

2009-02-26T19:54:00.004-06:00

Love seems to come and go more frequent and in shorter duration. People on the sidewalk pass by holding hands while I eat my string cheese and apple alone quietly on the park bench. It's a beautiful day but seems to be bogged by sadness.

As I walk to class I catch a glance of a girl walking toward me. Suddenly I feel the need to pull her aside and spill my thoughts. Playing the scene in my head, I imagine she recognizes my thoughts as if they were her own and she is so glad I jumped on the sporadic gumption.

She walks by and I, eyes to the ground, smell her perfume. Inhaling regret, staying quiet but know the pain of speaking up, reaching out, and opening. Some day... someday might never come.

Unclear which inflicts the most change, regret or the pain of loss. Or possibly the loss of pain and regret when life starts to change for the better.

Tea

2009-02-09T22:39:00.005-06:00

As I boil water I flash back in time to the most primitive of days when our forefathers did just the same for a soothing drink. They gather the herbs from the earth and put them into the water that whispers with steam.

The herbs bleed. The water steeps into aroma, flavor, and genuine color. Two hands preserving sanctity. I sip slowly as to not provoke the tempered tea and in return it warms my soul.

Cry

2009-02-04T21:42:00.005-06:00

My nose starts to tingle. I feel my eyes swelling hot and cheeks warm. My emotions crash onto my heavy face, broken. The water pours from my eyes like a salty faucet and yet my lids are clenched shut, mouth open, teeth exposed. Saliva strings like a web as I pant my gallon drum lungs. My body exhausts itself onto the floor as if I had tripped into a dark hole. My mind is blinded by wet blur. I seem to repeat the same phrases over and over, each time growing more passionately, raspy, and rough.

Time is only understood with a pulsing headache and worn expression. The arms and legs lay limp with short convulsions from gasping air. Yawn.

Anguish freezes involuntarily.

I exhale feeling expended, my will for contentment going out with my breath. My sleeve is lined with dark streaks where I wiped my nose like I did as a child. Skin shades of flesh and red pattern the outside of my eyes from tightly held mien.

Once ashamed, now exposed to all the pain that was enclosed.

Neutral Becomes Noisy

2009-01-14T01:23:00.006-06:00

For the longest time I thought I was doing myself a favor by laying low with opinions of politics, ethics, and other difficult subjects. And for the longest time I have stayed clear of most conflict, until now.

Oddly enough, the conflict doesn't come from anyone but myself. I argue with myself on almost every subject, never coming to a final conclusion. I just end up pissed off and no one to blame it on. I seem to be asking myself more questions and finding less answers. It's like a game of ping-pong that got way out of hand, I've been going back and forth for years.

I was never really asked for MY opinion, most of the time people would just say theirs and look to me, "wouldn't you agree." I'd naively nod my head and shrug my shoulders.

For some reason I don't care or have no reason enough to argue over most subjects. I never saw anything wrong with that about me, now I'm starting to wonder.

Make Believe

2009-01-12T00:51:00.004-06:00

I make believe sometimes. I used to make believe a lot, but not so much anymore. People look at me strange when I'm shopping in the grocery story talking to myself,

"Affirmative, we have a bogie on aisle 10, requesting backup to take down the salsa."

More recently I try to make believe when no one is around, or even awake for that matter. I'll take late night showers with all the lights off. I pretend I am in some alley, blind and must find my way around in the darkness. I am poor and have no clothes. It begins to rain. Acid rain, it feels hot. I have nothing. I lay there for an hour waiting, waiting for the rain to flood and wash away the street dirt. I have nothing and feel content. The world is falling apart and I feel safe.

I feel safe in my imaginary place.

Warm Fiction Fixation

2008-12-19T01:35:00.013-06:00

The outside is hushed by falling snow. Flake by flake we are tucked in for this winter night. White blankets glow blue from the deep and distant moon.

The fire is warm, the smell of oak entices us. It crackles and pops to entreat our attention. But the only notice I give it is of the flickers of amber in the reflection of your eyes. I can not look away.

Your skin is soft, tenter to the touch. I bury my face next to your ear to say nothing. Silent kisses in the dark dim light. Your hair tickles my nose but releases a sweet aroma. The same fragrance that seems to wander behind you every time we cross paths.

The sight of you, studying each of your features in such intimacy, fills me with contentment. My heart is a ruby red like the luminescent embers from the fire. My heart radiates warmth throughout my body, from head to toe. I cover your icicle toes with mine like a heated blanket. You cuddle yourself gently into my chest like two halves finally making a whole. We stare at the wild flames as they dance all night long casting shadows on the walls. And I hold you, there in my arms, drifting fast asleep.

Victim

2008-12-09T05:20:00.003-06:00

I have been hurt. I have been wounded. The sword was not my own. The sword was not in my hands. I was not armed. I was not a threat. Yet I bleed.

I bled.

I am vindicated of all victim mentalities. Time passes in signs of a scar. I can not hide the mark and I do not boast on it. Stay away and do not speak at me. I now wield the heartbreaking motions as I have seen.

Moon

2008-12-01T18:29:00.003-06:00

You are quiet and soft. You are the reflection of a star. Today you are seen, my back on my trampoline.

Glow, grow, and know that I am watching you turn new. I am conscious of your subconscious. I am your flower in the dark. Stay longer so that I can flourish. I will be your company.

Misery

2008-11-30T11:16:00.003-06:00

I'm all out of tears, nobody to cry for
but a boy with a bottle and his foot on the throttle,
The sun will be rising in the east. The dust, settling in the west.
Soon I'll be done, misery, my father, me, his son.

Self-destructive

2008-11-10T13:41:00.003-06:00

I see it coming in the distance. The day is clear, my sight is blind.

You beat your head against a mirror. Ironic or appropriate?

I stand in this sinking sand waiting for you to stop and turn around. Ironic or appropriate?

Proving a point never felt so meaningful as it does now. Saving a soul just before you loose your own. It's the principle.

I see only in the color of love. Ironic or appropriate?

Amateur

2008-10-15T13:15:00.006-05:00

Twenty-one years pass and yet I say, "amateur," -- to love, to wisdom, to brotherhood, all the same.

Beginnings never seem to cease and success never to ensue. No experience can take away the pain of the never ending, ever refining love. An owl who knows is an owl who sows into the knowledge of the elder; for those are the ones with experience in beginnings. They perform, they foresee not like magicians but mathematicians, calculating vain with sane.

Oh my brother. I see you over there. I say "hello," but the static noise is too loud, I say "come over," but the people are too proud. Inexperienced, I will continue to love.

infinitus

High

2008-09-01T02:34:00.003-05:00

I focus my attention on my mind. I'm falling high. Thoughts cascade down the walls of possibility and stop at my feet. I stand for the nobility and realize I need to chop wood to feed the fire.

Outside is sobering to the unconscious. The ocean blue sky sparkles like fine crystal glasses. Embers join in with the dance to the waves, floating like fireflies high into the sky.

Hunger lies surface deep. Feed the monster, lose humanity. The growls are loud and I am proud. The monster is silenced with baked animals and colorful worms. Milk is the only link from us to them, from them to absurdity.

Mirrors project my past onto me while windows open possibilities to new adventures. But for now I'll go to sleep. I will close my eyes and fall fast into the sky under the mattress. I will sleep high.

September

2008-09-01T02:17:00.003-05:00

Filled with magnificent disaster. Your presence is heavy and hard to ignore. Ten days in and you're born, one more and you're torn.

You say God toys with you, I, moving lifelessly like a marionette. I say play the game. Be the girl you want to be. See the things you want to see.

I see destruction, at least for now, I see heartache.

Stipulation

2008-08-27T04:30:00.002-05:00

It's inevitable, life will always be filled with stipulations.

Don't do this, don't do that. Don't do without this unless you have that. People tend to make life more complicated than it already is.

Secretly Brilliant

2008-08-27T04:20:00.005-05:00

Tonight some friends and I went to IHOP and just drank coffee and smoked (well they did the smoking). I started to scribble on a napkin and thought to myself, "I wonder what the most interesting scribbles have consisted of."

Now I know this is a bit of a "stoner" thought but just in its simplest form... genius's scribble. I'd like to see and know, where and what they wrote. It just fascinates me that such brilliant minds at some point just let their visions run wild and careless onto paper. I'd like to see what that looks like. I mean, when I think of scribbling, I think of it as a vision with no form, an idea with no thought, just intimate and far from structure.

Scribbling takes on a whole new persona.

The Darkness

2008-08-18T01:19:00.003-05:00

Under the cover of night and many dark shadows we go out into the world as the nocturnal animals our habits have created us to be. The clanking silverware against the clay plates sent chills up your spine. You were quiet, holding your peace for a few moments more, then unleashed.

The dishes were cleaned, the apartment was vacuumed. I took out the trash, you made the bed. You locked up while I fetched the car. Two blocks down and to the left, three flights up and on the right. We drove miles away and with each mile, buried our past. I did not argue any longer. I had no energy. I did not know. I was blinded by naivety as you knew.

As I fall asleep I see our hide-out on Lamar. It's not far, but enough for you to get your mind off the people that hold you back. There's a psychedelic Jimi hovering over as you order the same as many times before. All I do is watch and smile. All I can do is watch and smile. The table between us is hardly what stops me. Your fear of others opinions pushes my back roughly up against the vintage 70's pleather. I am pinned by your vigilant thoughts of those around us.

Blind. We talk, we jest, we make it a pleasant moment for a difficult situation. I kiss you on your soft sensual lips and tear myself apart from you, leaving just a frayed edge. You retreat back to your forest of concrete and steel, the wolves are waiting. I leave but am alone. I am in darkness and alone.

Deliverance

2008-08-14T00:42:00.001-05:00

[---] is whoever you want him to be, because apparently being me isn't neat. I don't know you. I don't know me. But every time I try, I get beat.

I want to be free, I want to be free, I want to be free.

But the words don't place themselves and the motions don't take control.

Society is cruel indeed. Love and trees are all I need.

Love love love and trees are all I need.

Keep me rooted in the organic, keep me far away from the panic.

All I need from you is to be my little growing liberty seed.

Love

2008-07-30T05:56:00.001-05:00

The most universal language. It is spoken in every continent, beautiful in every form. Yet so few individuals succeed to articulate.

Love is a lost tongue in a fast world. It takes a slow tongue to speak to the world.

Until we learn to speak with clarity, I shall pray for our posterity.

I Thought About What You Said

2008-07-25T15:22:00.001-05:00

I've decided to leave it all behind, as a testament. I will still capture these moments in life for history, as you said we are to do, I will just do it with other tools.

I am leaving this behind to show that this is not being done selfishly. It is being done as everyone has a time to move and a time to settle. Inside you will find many hidden and well kept secrets. Some will be secret gardens, others will be limbo. I am who I am.

I have scars and I have beauty marks, all imperfections, all perceived differently. I ask that you listen for a moment. Explore what I have left for you to find. I hope you find much more than what you see.

Wants and Needs

2008-07-08T05:09:00.003-05:00

As it is clearly known, wants and needs are broadly different.

However, sometimes I feel that my wants often become my needs... or at least provide the essentials for my needs. But now that I think of it... what defines a need?

Then - it was food, shelter, and companionship.

Now - not much has changed.

Often times we forget our most crucial needs... which are our mental necessities. We must feel that we are in control of our minds, that we have self-esteem, that we are loved, and that we, both physically and mentally, feel safe.

I really don't know where I'm going with this... but I guess if all those needs are met by something that I want then... I should really get that thing. Ok then, it's settled... I'm getting a motorcycle, iPhone, tattoo, Into the Wild, and Fight Club. Right now in my life, that's all I really feel I need to want.

Drip Drop

2008-06-18T01:47:00.001-05:00

Drip drop. Drip drop, but nothing else. No one talks about the other part. Where is the splash, where is the clash, where is the end?

The drip. A birth of uncertainty. Falling into this world with a view of optimism. By nature optimism is all we are offered. A view of green and blue, anything is possible.

The drop. Our possibilities are quickly limited to wind and wear. We control but where our focus is directed, whether our scope is honed in or not is in the hands of destiny.

The splash crash catastrophe. We spend all our time focused on our promises and possibilities of the future. We never really reach a destination of satisfaction, just the end. We don't realize, the future has been staring us dead in the eyes since the beginning, just at a distance.

Our only real promise is the uncertainty throughout it all. When you're uncertain, the possibilities are truly as small or as big as you make them. And that's where you'll find the splash.

My Nightly Shower

2008-06-16T23:00:00.001-05:00

I think about possibilities. Ideas cascade my thoughts like the hot water does to my face. I breath in a deep resonant steam as if for weight so that I don't float away. Nothing to cloud me, only vapor, I am open to new and wonderful beginnings.

I am brilliant, to write a book. A book of many pages to be announced a novel. But the pages have few words. They are simple. A novel is not written with verbose diction. It is written with words. Words are all I have to offer.

I am intricate, to follow the path into the woods. I have deep scars of things written on me from long ago like a tree through the years of young lust and old love. These scars are not painful unless they are ignored. When I do, they cause a great deal of white noise that I can not shake. As if to rattle residual water out of my ear, I violently thrash my head only to be found a fool and water still remaining. However, when I encourage my roots I can feel the sun warming my future as I grow closer to my past, to our past, to nature.

I am profound, to sing a song. The overwhelming power of melody and harmony. A wave of sound and soul crash down on tightly wound heart strings only to play along with the cadence of the symphony.

I am bound. These are only thoughts, these are only ideas, these are only words, and this is only a shower. The towel works in a way to dry up my ideas and to crack my thoughts. I quickly dehydrate into a withered realistic man. My clothes assure a safe keeping as if in some way doing me a favor.

How do I present myself naked to the world without becoming callas and scabbed by the rough grounds of criticism and scorn? The answer surely inhabits Utopia.

These Two Are Not The Same

2008-06-07T03:54:00.001-05:00

Not the same as when I first was introduced. Not the same as when I first loved, cared, and belonged.

I am an oddly placed plastic mannequin in the room of two lonely statues. They are grey and brittle. What is to be done of a statue, so familiar, when cracked and shaken? Plastic is only tolerant to so much weight.

I must leave now but timid to leave such a quiet ruin. Not for its beauty, but for its pain I must let it rest and let time heal the wounds.

Cowgirl

2008-05-20T00:49:00.001-05:00

...in the sand,
pack your things, saddle up your horse, eat well tonight for tomorrow will be a long ride, over mountains with snow and valleys with rivers.

The season is right. The birds are singing our farewell and the sun is shining a path towards our future.

Follow close behind cowgirl in the sand. The world is easily deceiving and quickly depleting of originals.

An Anniversary

2008-05-10T21:49:00.001-05:00

If only. If only it had come. If only we'd of lasted. If only we were wiser.

I could hear the trumpets playing to welcome us in but they were all too distant. I could smell the evergreens on the other side but they were all too faint.

You said I was too young. You doubted my sight of the decades that would soon present themselves to us. The years would become isolated like 1950's commercials had shown for years. Although I was a dreamer, I admit, I saw reality. You just needed to take into consideration that the reality in which I saw was also glazed with a cherry red finish.

You are not a dreamer. You are a Realist. A Realist so explicit that you get lost in the simplicity of reality. Of the fact that people do live happy together, people do truly love each other once in a while. People do finish their years happy. The band is there to play for them, for us. If only we're their to hear it.

If only.

Nowhere

2008-04-27T03:47:00.002-05:00

I'm in the air... no ground beneath me, no sky above. I'm not falling any more than I am flying. There's no glow of joy on my face, no cry for help in my eyes. I am stagnant. I am stale. And life passes by.

Insomnia

2008-04-08T04:52:00.001-05:00

Night after night, sun light to lamp light, I lay and I stand, neither of which my eyes are closed. I enjoy solitude at times, when I can hear myself. I enjoy it also when a million thoughts cannot parade my mind. My dreams are a capsule of a much different solitude. If only I could stop this, stop writing, stop thinking. Stop the monotonous cycle of being.

Loosing Myself, Only to be Found

2008-04-05T20:28:00.001-05:00

I ran as fast as I could to the adrenaline that pulled me. As fast as I fell, I arose internally. Although I hit walls and went down one way streets, I did not stop. My feet did not stop moving. My life is propelled by the unknown, not by fear. I have no regret. I live to learn and I learn by experience. Experience is how I learned to love.

Sharing

2008-03-24T23:28:00.002-05:00

I finally realized why it is that I enjoy blogging. If I am honest with myself, I am living many different lives. I have lived these lives for quite some time. These alternative life styles aren't bad, but I guess it is all in ones perspective. I feel at peace with my life and the decisions I make, however, I know that some of those surrounding me would not agree if they knew exactly how I lived.

It is liberating to know that I have exposed my deepest thoughts into the open. I have, in a sense, tied my secrets to a balloon and set it free. Someone may some day read my inner struggles and might, for a second, sympathize. Sharing human emotions may be all we have in this life.

Most of the time I feel I am protecting them from needless despondency. Other times I challenge myself with a looming thought of self artifice. "With years of evil wear, has my mind given in to the indulgent pleasures of this world?" This is a question I would ask myself at the genesis of my independence. A sense of searching has always been encompassed in me. I just often wonder what the odds are for me to be born into the "right" religion. After the birth of my carte blanche, I felt more real than I ever had before. I felt that my blank piece of paper finally needed color and understood why. This was the start of my discord. I was raised to keep a pure white paper.

As a child I was taught and saw battles of good and evil. I was taught the value of children's eyes and minds, only now to be told that those same eyes and minds are naive. This makes me wonder who is truly naive. How do I know, if I know nothing else?

For now, I will live. For as long as I live, I will love. That is all I know for certain.

Thoughts On Paper

2008-02-05T23:27:00.001-06:00

When I sleep, I don't close my eyes

When I dream, I see memories of a summer

When I love, I can't help but sleep

If I could write a song, I’d write it just for you
It would have deep meaning of value

Because what I lack in my voice, I make up in my heart

I'm not a musician, but I try so hard

Oh, I have dreams of you, I am singing to you

To be able to speak, with such melody

That's all I ask, is that you listen to me

We stay in the apartment, from day until the dust
We wake up like the owl, food always was a must

Late nights with the city lights

Just other cars and passing bars

It's the simple things that make us who we are...

Who we were... when the leaves had more color

And I was much stronger...

Happy New Year

2008-01-01T03:19:00.002-06:00

I have always felt that this night is very critical to be doing something spectacular but after tonight... I feel like it's just another night. A good friend of mine gave me this advise that I found to be quite helpful.

"[New Years] is always built up to be an exciting night, but it really isn't. Normal nights without expectations are more fun so you should just stay at home, save your gas money and make a cake."

Well... my friend was right in my case. When I put too many expectations on this night, it usually ends badly. So I spent this New Year in my home town with friends I grew up with... getting into a little trouble making sparkler bombs and lighting fireworks.

I've never had a "New Year kiss" and I guess I'm going to wait yet another year for that to happen. Hope you all stay safe to live another year.

Happy New Year

Merry Christmas

2007-12-15T04:41:00.001-06:00

...and Happy Holidays for everyone else.

My winter season is usually spent with family, like everybody else. But with a family of eight... the house gets really full... really fast.

This year all I really asked for from Santa was running gear for the upcoming Chevron Houston Marathon that I'm running on January 13th. I ruined my first iPod nano (1st generation) by letting sweat get to it while I ran. Now I have the new iPod nano (4th generation) that plays video. Super stocked about training with it!

And yes, it's VERY depressing to see my sister and her husband, my other sis and her new boyfriend, and finally... my brother and his fiance all partying it up in "Love-ville" while I'm out here on "Lonely Island". Don't be diseved by the name, even though it's an island... and people are suppose to be "livin' la-vita lo-ca" while they're single... it's LONELY for me.

I'm trying to enjoy single life as much as possible... but when you've felt that other half of you filled once before... it's hard to ever go back to the life you had before.

Don't get me wrong, this season is hands down, the best one of them all! And as miserable as I may feel inside... I'm all grins for my family and friends.

Merry Christmas to one and all!

Thanksgiving

2007-11-21T14:10:00.002-06:00

In a family of 8 (including myself) it's usually never lonely around holiday times! And we have a lot of relatives from both sides of the family that live within 20 minutes away. So Thanksgiving is actually pretty chaotic.

But I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my family... and it gets too quiet without them.

My favorite dishes are green-bean casserole, cheesy potato slices, hot buttery rolls with some chilled white wine to wash it down. Oh, and I'm a dark meat/crispy skin kind of guy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

A "Love" Story

2007-11-14T00:52:00.004-06:00

So I have this friend who never really dated before. In fact, the word "dating" was almost never heard in his house. He never had a valentine, never had a high school sweet heart, and now that i think of it... he'd never had a girl friend at all. Then one summer he meets a woman. An amazing woman. He likes this woman. This is a good thing. The woman likes him. This, also is a good thing. The woman finds out that he is almost 5 years younger than her. This is not a good thing. So at the beginning he just befriended her and things were cool.

But before long, their attraction was undeniable. They had gotten so close to each other that they were practically dating. Things actually moved pretty fast, but my friend was fully aware of what he was doing. He opted not to tell his family and most of his friends because he was unsure just how to tell them, how they might treat him afterwards. And besides that, he finally felt that he wasn't obligated to do or tell anyone anything. So he kept it a secret. Like wise with the woman and her family, in fear of what other might think. They were... secret lovers.

For the very first time in his life he felt free. Independent. The life he wanted to live was finally his choice to make. He was in control of his life with no one to tell him different. Ironicly enough, she wouldn't let him buy even his own food when they went out. He felt humbled to say the least. She felt like she needed to take care of him. When they talked about their future together, she would jokingly call him her "man wife" because she didn't want him to work.

Long story short, 4 months later he confidently felt he was absolutely in love with this woman. At which point she decided to stop things between them. He was completely crushed. She said it would never work because they were both in different phases in life.
"If you were only older," she says. He simply can not believe that she would let age stop their love. "It's not love," she says. Each time she speaks... his heart sinks deeper into darkness. Wounded and after months of rebutting... he walks away into the silence that is loneliness once more. The end.

Camping Obsession

2007-11-12T18:31:00.004-06:00

I was fortunate enough to be raised in a family took lots of road trips. We camped all over the U.S. which is what sparked my love for nature. Now that I'm all grown up... not much has changed.

Reading "Hatchet" by Gary Paulsen and "My Side of the Mountain" inspired me even more to pursue my passion for the great out doors. After seeing the enormous Red Woods of California and the breath taking mountain scenery of the North East, I really couldn't just go back home and forget about it all.

Bear Grylls is one of my most recent heros. Popular from the hit Discovery show "Man vs. Wild," he has given me the confidence to survive primarily off of the earth. He taught me to never underestimate what the human body can do under intense situations.

Just this weekend I went camping with some of my home town pals. I ended up eating a cricket and fresh caught oysters from a near by lake. I'm not going to lie, the cricket was grimy and the oyster was very tough!

Writing and Singing

2007-11-09T03:19:00.001-06:00

These are both things I'm no good at.. but wish to be. I can hardly play music as well. I've always found it very difficult to "express" my emotions passionately! When I get close to a girl I'm interested in, I trip over my words like I'm running a three legged race. Most girls think it's "adorable" that I don't speak correctly... I think it's annoying.

I thought, maybe if I practice writing poetry the song part will follow shortly after. So far, no such luck. But I'm not giving up just yet. I'm full of passion without an outlet... this is never a good situation.

Skydiving

2007-11-07T23:32:00.003-06:00

...it's definitely something I could do as a hobby. It's an adrenaline rush for the first 10 seconds and after that it's like flying towards a huge painting at 120mph. My sis came with me but didn't jump so I think we're going to plan another trip on her birthday to come do it again.

My First Blog...

2007-10-26T14:30:00.003-05:00

I'm just going to let you know right now... I use these "..." A LOT! I just like them, and it's kind of a habit.

My hobby's are running and filming and do quite a bit of both. We're starting a small video editing company. I'd tell you the name of our company but we keep going back and forth about that subject.

Enjoy.