Journal Posts: Apr7-14

The following journal entries i'd like to share, but i cannot post them at their proper dates because they are from before the creation of this blog. I am posting this on the 28th of April, but I want it to appear in proper order of the following posts.

April 7; 2008
Satisfaction looms, soaking all with the mist of impermanent joy. The smooth gliding of rubber and pavement accompanies the fresh rattle of a chain while the cold steel is pumped; bellows of the body's forge seek and push the steed to soar. And this body aches, not for being pushed to limits, but for the desire. I long for the coming weeks to leave, and to see her again, in that great city to the west. I wonder what the future will bring. Anticipation looms as it always does.

Times are coming together. Highs and lows mesh and maintain a satisfying intermediate. Methinks that bicycle riding improves the general feel of this life. With the long-awaited arrival of spring, i sometimes think it would be fun to stay here. But then, overwhelmingly, the drive is to leave everything here behind, at least for a time. Then, upon my hopefully short return, to see which companionships are worth the long-term commitments. I can already guess several of them, but only time will tell.

April 8; 2008
Energy conveyed from liquid bean to me results in revitalization, at least for now. I squeeze this moment for all of the momentum it has, but lacking is an adequate amount to keep me surfaced for long. I am set into this content, but not of the bitter taste of just black in my mouth. I almost struggle to keep in mind, positive perspectives keep the head held high.

I want to create, but i feel restrained. Soon enough, the cloud will dissipate. As of now, i can already see a future, although unclear. Anticipation looms like a dangerous storm.

April 9; 2008
My dreams fill with desperation. It shows in desire, panic, and it blinds with lust. It aches and it swells, especially after I awaken. I takes me several hours to recover after each sleep. Disorientation overwhelms my mind as i struggle to adjust to conscious life.

Weave and weave, but where are the baskets I seek to create? I need somewhere to store false hopes and the desire to deceive. Perhaps not so much a desire, but the feeling of desperation. This is mostly because one that claims i can trust is not trustworthy in the least bit. That is partially my undoing, because everybody sleeps in the bed they make. It is for reasons like this that i am leaving this place. I am not happy with who i have become here, and because of that, i fear i will not be able to become the person i seek out deep within. I need to find what i will do with my life. This transition will cost much in the personal loss of many relationships, but to be brutally honest, that is the point. An insurmountable set of relationships and circumstances are the driving forces of my unhappiness. I do not seek to vanquish such conflicts from my mind, because i have learned from them and i do value them, but i feel as if i can no longer remain attached to them in any shape or form. If i were to stay here, i could not remain unattached.

This longing to escape these demons has escalated to points of almost pushing me into uncontrollable frenzy. I have also noticed an increased amount of these same demons everywhere i go. Perhaps they are angels, but it is i the demon; either way, i must leave this life behind to start another. The tragedies i have held onto for so long will not be forgotten, but removed from the weight i carry.

Demons and angels are just words, just figureheads for an example, and what really matters are that all individuals involved in this metaphor become stronger, healthier, and more mature in the end. I sincerely wish that for all of you, whether i like or dislike you and/or your existence.

----

Mutter sensation-
Strange pace and hands over eyes-
Foul taste in mouth;
I am not sure where i am,
It is unclear if i stand.

Vague at best, this night,
Remaining stale in this state-
I jerk with a fright-
There is a light coming forth,
Faster with each second past.

----

This light shines through the mist of a cool night's breath,
Breathing in consignment of wrath-
This is my pain,
I sustain this endurance.

The waxing moon adds to the glow of this hearth-
I am so tired,
But i am alive.
Despite the faith that crosses my fate-
I fall, fail, and tire-
But yet i strive.

Circulation losses momentum in these hands,
But yet on i write-
Desperation thrives.
Overcast of the week vanishes,
With but a trace of fog-
But the day will come in,
With a menacing storm.
Onward I wait,
Forward i drive.

April 14; 2008
Frivolous thoughts-
Forsaken mind.
Coaxed bodies
In the riverbed of time.

Reaching out,
The pores taste air.
Despite the burgeoning frost,
The hand clasps.
No despair.

----

I lust enough to care,
Heavenly sense of enthusiasm.
Blissful cooperation merely for the sensations-
Warmth and compassion.

Restless enough to shake off the desire for sleep.
These open eyes seek more than the bleak white-
This square fortress of civilized life.

----


This high burns my veins with ambition, as treachery lies around every corner. I move forth, dodging the past, progressively passing the shackles. Wrath of the ruling class, monstrous momentum behind their claws. Ruling. Abiding. Ever watching...

Step before myself, and teeter on this edge. The undertow lies below, but i must not to fall in unless sheepishly I choose to taste and waste until the end of my days. I need no drink of dismay.

Forlorn, I feel as if it is, was, necessary for me to dump a large portion of what was left of seasons past over the despairing edge before me. Yes. Now i may complete myself. Now i may erect my potential, hold against the many towering divinities that encompass all that surrounds. They are possessed with my dsimantle and complete removal from this place of rest. But it is here, for now I remain, conciously profound.

Left the unneeded baggage, soon to physically embark on a mental journey. The only taxes to be paid will be those of enforcing charms of charisma and endurance.

Volumes of verse will pay respected dues, well worth and owed. I owe so few and expect my best.

Pretty memories-
Subsequent stout.
Hazy frenzies,
Of laughter and doubt.

I will be hailed delirious before a dire genius.