I'm on hour 36 of no sleep. I'm shaky. Restless. I need to get out of here. Where to and to do what? Who knows? I remember when I was a kid. I'd be making my way back home right about now usually this time of night. In the junior high years it would be from an x mile walk, usually around 10-12 miles. The endeavor would have began approximately 5 hours ago. In high school it would have been the conclusion to a night of either hanging out somewhere or creeping about somewhere else.
Now I just sit here. There is no purpose here. I'm grabbing at straws here and somethings gotta give. Why can't I sleep?
Days just drag. I never thought I'd miss the Army. I do. But only because I had purpose. Fuck them for defining that. At the same time thank god. I've gotta find it. I've gotta find something to fill that void.
School seems so far off. UXO seems like such an impossible road. Bomb squad. Kids, that's the shit I am talking about. Can I do what I was gonna do in the Army in the civilian world instead? Will my hip let me? I dont give a fuck, I have to try. Gimme 2 years kids, naw fuck it a year and a half, maybe even by this time next year. I'll be on my way.
Fitting, I think. Saving people by destroying the destructives. It makes sense. It's a good balance, yes?
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
This bleak heart.
This bleak heart is choking on its own sympathy. I have seen where hope leads and its deceit makes me sick. The promise of a better world under the foot of a new tyrant, completely oblivious. I tread this sea of faces, stomping out the brightest of smiles, an echo, a reflection of what this world has made me believe.
Ahead is the tower of Babylon, burning in self proclaimed glory. Festering with sickness. The stench of lies here is staggering. The tower and its people can't see their own decay, have no sense of perception of suffering. My greatest wish, make them suffer. Tear down this rotten spire and leave their festering carcasses writhing in the wake of their devastation, drowning in the dust that pours forth from inhuman veins.
If this bleak heart could project itself upon the world, hope would be exposed for the fraud I've come to know it to be. Cities would burn, blazing spires from which mothers cast down their own children, the picture they paint on the concrete more accurate a depiction of hope's folly than I could ever conjure.
This world is already burning and we are already dead. It is just a question of when the fires turn themselves in on us when the natural landscape can no longer sustain them. If this bleak heart could show itself, you all would flee into the flames in the horror I'd show you.
It's coming, but this hopeless heart will have nothing to do with it.
Ahead is the tower of Babylon, burning in self proclaimed glory. Festering with sickness. The stench of lies here is staggering. The tower and its people can't see their own decay, have no sense of perception of suffering. My greatest wish, make them suffer. Tear down this rotten spire and leave their festering carcasses writhing in the wake of their devastation, drowning in the dust that pours forth from inhuman veins.
If this bleak heart could project itself upon the world, hope would be exposed for the fraud I've come to know it to be. Cities would burn, blazing spires from which mothers cast down their own children, the picture they paint on the concrete more accurate a depiction of hope's folly than I could ever conjure.
This world is already burning and we are already dead. It is just a question of when the fires turn themselves in on us when the natural landscape can no longer sustain them. If this bleak heart could show itself, you all would flee into the flames in the horror I'd show you.
It's coming, but this hopeless heart will have nothing to do with it.
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