cheers, indeed.

Let's lounge in our own morosity,
stew in the mire of our own disappointments,
every failure, revisited,
every heartbreaking memory uprooted and purged into our laps,
so that we might spend a few dreary hours gazing at its beautiful dysfunctional existence.
Remember what we used to say, pleasantly demented.

Let us sit here,
drink our whiskey
and reflect
on the pleasantly demented history of all that has gone awry in our lives.




So we might be all the more grateful for all that has gone right.

picture

Insomnia, Again. 

goddamn brain.

This Mind, The One That Refuses To Rest,

Images, Theories, Ideas—All Swirling Through This Overactive Consciousness 

Meanwhile, The Earth

it Spins

And Without The Sun This Mind Becomes A Vacuum

Where All Thought Is Instantly Ubiquitous, Yet Nihilistic.  

Each Point Both Brilliant And Banal. 

Someday He'll Be Famous.

This is my younger brother.  He's incredible.  Pass the video around!

what is real?

the cold has come.
toes exposed.
shivers up this spine
winter creeps over this nude form

i resist the urge to run through the streets
raving subconscious slipping out
as words drift from dream to reality

i wake.  Cold in the night.

On hope.

How is it that in this world where life is brief and love is fleeting that we allow for waste? We life in a world where every moment SHOULD be spent protecting the fragile life that still, somehow, is only held together by, lets face it, mostly luck and very little planning.  We (citizens of Earth) have this mentality of us versus them, always trying to take more, to be better than our neighbors all around. When will we realize that there is only one planet for all to share?

lost.

anyone can see it

the fear that rises up 

from somewhere so 

dark. 

you're afraid to look there. 

what is it, love, that makes you tremble in the sunshine?

the loud, dangerous, beautiful world that is.

Life, so fleeting -- like birds on a line,

first full, heavy 

with burdens which bring great joy
and knowledge
and music
but constantly changing,
each little burden called away
by some greater cause,
or blown away by harsh winds,
or frightened by the great,
loud,
dangerous,
beautiful world that is.

Instinct-- (some notes from my ramblings)

Pieces of midnight ramblings, hope you like it-- it goes along with this.   

She was a pretty little thing.  Happy and smiling, just beginning to form the sounds that eventually would become words, although now it was all gibberish, gurgles and squeals of delight.  The simplest things, a cool summer breeze, sent her into spiraling, unbridled joy at the fresh, earthy smell carried on the wind.  It calmed her, too, as she drifted off to sleep in her Papa’s arms, blissfully unaware of the dangers the future held. 

Elisesofia Petlykov ran. She ran through dark, empty streets, her cloak billowed behind her, the hood drawn tightly around her face.  Silent, but urgent, like a street cat, chasing its next meal.  She did not look back.  Only forward, searching for the number on the door of the safehouse.  4498.  She had memorized it years ago, as a child—but had never once imagined this day would occur.  All these houses, silent, each exactly like the next: dark, dirty, windows locked and curtains, usually just a black cloth, closed to block any light—from the inside or out. 

Home

Well, the Earth once told me a story, though I didn’t know it at the time, of the rest of my life.  I walked down a path in the woods, weaving my way through the trees, breathing in the clean, fresh, earthy air you find only in a forest nowadays.  Birds darted among the trees around me, singing their song and hoping to find a mate.  Critters shuffled in the underbrush, scampering around as I came through their woods, startling them.  As I walked a long, for a moment I felt completely at home.  Yes, this is where I belong.  

doubt vanquished by love

I turn to see your smile and my heart skips a beat, 

my smile in return, involuntary.

I struggle to pull air back into these lungs, 

trapped in those eyes that reflect my own soul.   

You take my hand, eyes locked, 
minds interacting on a level that transcends speech--
and smile, softly, at the tear that comes, each time.


doubt vanquished by love