While I do believe that cognition (as a process) can be fallible--a word defined by dictionary.com as "capable of making an error"--I do agree that cognition is fundamentally flawed is a better way to describe what I am trying to say.

As for Karissa's contention, I don't think I'm assuming much by saying cognition is fundamentally flawed.  Perfect perception (as well as perfect memory) would be unlimited in scope and would not deteriorate over time or because of other circumstances.  I think optical illusions serve as a perfect example to this: perfect perception would be also always able to distinguish between what can be perceived in certain way and what can't.  A "3d" movie may be perceived by one (sight) faculty to produce tangible objects while the other (touch) faculty perceives not such objects.  Also, we are all aware that such faculties can be limited or seemingly expanded by certain outside influences, such as emotion or toxic substances.  However, I need more time to produce such logic for each situation, and may not because I feel them a digression to what I'm seriously attempting to accomplish: my ultimate goal is logically to produce proofs for and against the existence of God.  Alas, I have a lot of background information (logic) to sift through.

I could go about proving the last seven, but I think all in all, those are pretty obvious.
8.  My thought is fallible.
Proof: Given that 3 and 5 are true, and my cognition is based off of memory and perception and filter and extrapolation (indeed interpolation even), I believe this logically follows.  You can't produce absolute truth based on partially false information, however miniscule the false part may be.
Disclaimer:  While personal thought is fallible, it's the only direct source of information about the terms of existence and therefore, containing far less assumptions, it can be viewed as the most reliable source of information.  This is not an arrogant statement--simply a statement of fact.

*Feel free to discuss the terms of this logic and other points.

Clearing everything else out of my mind, I have come to some conclusions...
1.  I exist.
2.  My perception is the only means of experiencing that existence.
3.  My perception is fallible.
4.  My memory is a collection of perceptions.
5.  My memory is fallible as well.
6.  Thought can be achieved only by construing those perceptions to obtain meaning.  Most often, perceptions are filtered to make seemingly more pertinent information accessible to my memory to help create meaning to further perceptions.
7.  I assume that other beings very similar to me exist in the same manner I do, although I can not be sure.

NVM

I'm back home, a fact which I've already discussed but which carries ramifications far greater than you might believe.  To you (general you), the reader, your idea of being back home for someone who attended Georgia Institute of Technology is a far more temporary one than I have in mind and know, in fact; but alas, I'm not returning to Atlanta next fall semester.  So, you might ask what I plan to do?  Ehhh...dead space...

After all these stressful, albeit strange, happenings, the parents are relatively distraught and forthright over my not returning, amongst other things.  For a year, I suppose, I will work for monetary rewards and for the rejuvenation of a level of trust between my parents and myself.  In fall 2007, Lee?  I'm not sure at this point.  As my mother remarked, "We're just taking this one day at a time."  That we may be, but I feel a sense of other depression creeping onto the scene because of it.

While you may not care (hell, sometimes I don't) about my future, I would be remissed in most cases not to.  Honestly, though, I have no idea what to do in all this dead space.  It's like nothing's going to happen for about a year of my life: I'll be out of phase with most people I know.  Of course, I basically am already.  I've yet to gradiate myself back into the FWC crowd, especially since I want to avoid any other social infractions (with one person in particular).  My time with Turning Point is lackluster at best, and the choices for a man around here, at least to me, appear quite slim (that being a woman, as it should be).

For all this confusing angst-filled pablum, I'm probably not being very understandable.  I feel, in many ways, like everyone else is continuing on without me, while I'm stuck at Park Place paying for my bad decisions.  What am I supposed to be doing in the meantime?  Work only goes so far.  It's like I'm dead without actually being dead--or, I guess, dead to everyone I know in a sense.  People carrying on their lives, I stand while people rush around me in a blur of business.  I'm stuck with the boredom and emptiness I've had yet to experience until now, and I figure out a way to solve it...

While almost avoiding the thought of the Chariot concert on last night (or at least last night relative to the time at which I'm writing), Michal Mullane called about an hour before to save from me from too much boredom for the night.  At first, I denied the offer, being somewhat still longing for sleep and drowsy as well, but then, I realized and called her back to make a daring escape from home to Rocketown.  Once there, I was greeted with a surprise, actually he greeted me--Carter Hays, that is.  Apparently, Michal's boyfriend had become acquainted with Carter through Siegel in some fashion.  Also with our party, in addition to Carter, Justin (the aforementioned boyfriend), Michal, and me, was another couple--the male named Cody, and the girl whose name I've forgotten (but for clarity purposes I shall refer to her as Nikki).  Luckily, despite my late departure, Rocketown has honed its skills at being late even more, and we stood in line a while after the scheduled start of the show, much to Carter's displeasure, as well as a few others.  I didn't mind too much because the rain only sprinkled occasionally, not nearly enough to cause me any trauma.
In a sense I almost expected some of the awkwardness of discourse for a little bit, for I was a little riled from all the anxiety of rushing to Rocketown and locking my keys in the car, for which I would acquire help later.  Soon enough, however, things seemed to fall into place, and conversations generally went well.
Once inside, we discovered the house was not nearly full, or much rather, even close, a fact Carter remarked several times about later on.  The first band, definitely but not defiantly metalcore, was Alcina from Nashville.  Being a local band, I didn't expect much or receive much in return, but they were alright.
The next band needs an introduction.  Waiting in line, I stated that, at Rocketown, it was next to impossible to go to far with your outward appearance, a point with which Cody agreed; however, the second band, The Becoming, summarily disproved me.  While most of them appeared strange (as in stranger than usual fare at the venue), one of the electric guitar players on the side where we stood appealed to my taste in humor a whole lot better.  His hair, by far, is the strangest I've ever encountered.  Being starkly black on his pallid face, the front half was long, and draped the sides of face while the bangs were pulled back to resemble a cockatoo (bird).  The back, on the other hand, was shaved with the exception of a long mohawk running from the crest of the cockatoo to the base of his skull, forming what looked to resemble a tail.  Tattooed, and covered in the white/black fashion sense of Dracula, with some "cowboy" flavoring added, these fellows appeared to produce some similar, if not the exact same thing, as Alcina.  We were wrong.
While their execution wasn't so bad, the band was terrible, relapsing from the mundane to the sociopathic love songs of the band HIM.  I walked out during their performance to use the restroom; I decided not to waste my ears.  All in all, I think Michal pointed out the obvious truth: "You'd think these guys would be a little more hardcore."
The next band, despite odd beginnings, was a treat and the band Carter liked.  Their name was Maylene and the Sons of Disaster, and they lived up to the Southern Rock-flavored hardcore for which Carter acclaimed them so much.
By the time of the Chariot, I was forced to cut short my visit due to the locking of the keys in the car.  They were also good as well--first rate hardcore even--though I enjoyed Maylene much more.
None of us slam danced, and Cody and Nikki kept to themselves most of the show.
I called my parents and asked them to do me the favor of bringing the van key to access the car and travel home.  What I hadn't counted on was the depletion of my battery during the show due to leave the keys in the ignition with the batter on.  So then, my dad and I had to find a place with jumper cables and solve that issue.  I thank him for being kind despite my second fault in locking away my keys.
Overall, it was a fun night...way better than staying at home...

Hey, The Chariot, a Christian
metalcore band, is playing today at Rocketown.  I'd be willing to go
if anyone wants to...call me if you do...

Well, today, I was blessed in job searching: officially, I'm a team member at the Quizno's on Caruthers Parkway in Franklin, TN.  I also got offered an interview at Publix, but since this job is a sure thing, and, ahem, since Publix requires certain things of all its employees (it hasn't been five weeks), I just went with the sure thing.
After talking with my parents, I, more than likely, won't be returning to college next fall, except possibly on a part time basis at Belmont or MTSU.  Also, I've got to pay for my own car insurance and for the student loan, however small ($3000 at a max of $50 per month is the estimate), but not until fall for the loan.  This comes in addition to any other expense I might incur, such as gas, food, etc.  The discussion almost felt as if I was being kicked out.  On the other hand, my parents' actions were perfectly justified due to my irresponsibility with the gift of schooling provided solely by them at a high cost.  It's just hard to take.  Really, it's been a long time coming though.  I should've had a job long before this time...
The problem with getting over what lies in the past is that my parents, who happen to be the majority of whom I'm around, keep bringing it up.  Whereas I'm nonchalant about it, they digress into the dark depths about the whole thing.  But whatever...
Hey, The Chariot, a Christian metalcore band, is playing tomorrow at Rocketown.  I'd be willing to go if anyone wants to...call me if you do...

Exams are done, and now, I'm just awaiting the grades.  (I'm back home for good.)
Now to look for a job...
If you wanna do anything (generally speaking), call me...
To Randy, I'm reconsidering Warped Tour because the Fall of Troy is going to be there.  If I can raise the funds, chances are I'll go...but again, I need a job...
If anyone knows of any job offers, do tell.  Preferably in the Cool Springs area, but Murfreesboro is fine too.

Two interesting articles...

http://www.jewishworldreview.com/cols/krauthammer1.asp

http://www.telladf.org/UserDocs/GeorgiaTechComplaint.pdf

The first is one about the price of gas, and the second about a lawsuit two students have brought against Georgia Tech.  If you politics and such, these will probably suit you best.

My CS 1371 exam went well today, and Calculus is tomorrow.  Also, I checked out of my room for good today, which also flew by smoothly.  On another note, I bought Tool's 10,000 Days today at BestBuy.  I may review it later if I find the time and the motivation.

Function Tomorrow = exam(grade)
If nargin == 0
    Tomorrow.value = 0
    Tomorrow = class(tomorrow, 'No Big Deal')
Elseif isa(grade, 'exam')
    Tomorrow = grade
Else
    Tomorrow.value = grade
    Tomorrow = class(tomorrow, 'Really Big Deal')
End

After opening my buzzport email inbox for the hundredth time, I've realized junk mail, from the source of your education or not, is the plague of humanity.  Whoever thought email lists and mass emails were a good idea needs to be tortured and killed.

My remarks have been down as of late, probably due to the more esoteric posts than normal; however, as I believe I've said before, I'm under strict watch not to divulge any supposedly classified information to people, although I did to Mai earlier today simply because I had no one to talk to and was angry.

Whether esoteric or not, most things posted on here have meaning (if not all).  Take, for instance, the last post: although I won't go into the nuances of the lyrics (people debate what they really mean anyway) or the morality of the band (b/c it's not Christian by any means), I was listening to this song yesterday and realized how good the lyrics really were because, I believe, it's my problem.  You may not agree with me as to the source of my problems--Hell, my parent's don't so why should you, the reader?--but I think it's a very important step to understanding what's going on here.

In my opinion, a lot of the nonconformist movement, as I call it, is founded on the principles of rejection and misery.  You'll often here the statement from people, "People just don't get me," or, "You haven't been through what I've been through"; and while those statements may be very true, the underlying motive falls short of a good life--that is, that because that person has suffered they have the right to make themselves and others suffer.  Now, this doesn't necessarily mean the torturing sense of suffering; rather, it's the idea the unique is embraced to an extent beyond its capacity.  If one feels rejected, they have to rejected everyone else indiscriminately.  I didn't used to ascribe to that belief, but somewhere along the line, self-progression was replaced by a sense of selfishness.

God doesn't give us the right to wallow in the mud of misery, no matter how bad it seems or feels, and trust me, it feels pretty shitty at times.  It's the question I believe the Spirit posed to me: "If I gave you the solution, would you even accept it?"  That's a funny question, if you think about it.  Why not reject misery and hatred and bitterness and accept joy and peace and love?  It's easier to wade in the former as an excuse for not living appropriately. 

Living is difficult, but it's difficult for all of us.  We all must surpass through the blood of Jesus Christ and the power of His resurrection, regardless of what we've been through or who's hurt us and so on and so forth.  We all must progress.

I'm not attempting to rehash everything.  I've fallen a lot and will probably continue sometimes to post the most depressing poetry this side of eternity.  At this point in time, for this small moment, though, I can say it is well with my soul, and I guess that's comforting, even if it's brief.

Wear your grudge like a crown of negativity.

Calculate what we will or will not tolerate.

Desperate to control all and everything.

Unable to forgive your scarlet lettermen.


Clutch it like a cornerstone. Otherwise it all comes down.

Justify denials and grip it to the lonesome end.

Clutch it like a cornerstone. Otherwise it all comes down.

Terrified of being wrong. Ultimatum prison cell.




Saturn ascends, choose one or ten. Hang on or be humbled again.




Clutch it like a cornerstone. Otherwise it all comes down.

Justify denials and grip it to the lonesome end.

Saturn ascends, comes round again.

Saturn ascends, the one, the ten. Ignorant to the damage done.




Wear your grudge like a crown of negativity.

Calculate what you will or will not tolerate.

Desperate to control all and everything.

Unable to forgive your scarlet lettermen.




Wear the grudge like a crown. Desperate to control.

Unable to forgive. And we're sinking deeper.




Defining, confining, sinking deeper.
Controlling, defining, and we're sinking deeper.




Saturn comes back around to show you everything

Let's you choose what you will not see and then

Drags you down like a stone or lifts you up again

Spits you out like a child, light and innocent.




Saturn comes back around. Lifts you up like a child or

Drags you down like a stone to

Consume you till you choose to let this go.

Choose to let this go.




Give away the stone. Let the oceans take and transmutate this cold and fated anchor.

Give away the stone. Let the waters kiss and transmutate these leaden grudges into gold.




Let go.

I've asked several, and the same as times
Have befallen the unfortunate hearers,
What do you think of me?
What do you think of my life?
Oh, but if there was a cure
For the all too common Christopher
That 36 among the stars somewhere
Beckoning my greatness to manifest,
What a day that would be!
Now, having unmasked the world,
I'm left begging for fulfillment.
What do you think of me?
What do you think my purpose is?
Ah, introspection got the best
Of you and me.
Aren't you worn from all this excitement?
I know I am...haha,
If only there were any to be had.
Once I said that
To be a realist
Is to be a pessimist,
Everyone else ran off,
And my dreams chased them as well.

You see me each day,
And I remember you.
Your smile never fails,
Through the briny water I tread,
But it's hard to run.
"Difficult to see underwater--"
I begin, but you interrupt me,
"Don't lose hope."
I feel the undertow pulling me
Away from the shore
Where all my failures lie.
They call to me, but I can only hear
Just these waves, just these waves.
It's difficult to swim so far.
I sometimes sheer from my course,
And feel a part in nothing.
"Does nothing matter?" I ask.
But you reply, "Don't lose hope."

Right now, I'm in the library computer lab, an ironic place to notice since the design of the library is more accompanying to that part than anything else.  I have often winced at the site of the library's design mainly because it's so inefficient and unseemingly.  The library isn't beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, but worse, the books and other written reference materials are scattered amongst six different floors, with organization comparable only to a male freshman quad dorm, and most likely worse.  But enough of the negativity.
I completed all my labs and solved that problem I posted earlier about: it seems I didn't take into account the total volume of each test tube when computing the initial molarities for substances in each.  Alas, chemistry lab I knew little.
Today, I have a lab practicum I hope to pass.  I don't worry much, seeing as how I've no idea what the test comprises, and worrying won't accomplish anything useful.
I got five dollars today by filling out a survey for the Coca-Cola corporation.  Apparently, they're tossing around the ideas of white foam and sheen foam bottles instead of the normal plastic bottles.  I'm wondering if they're trying to become more conservation-oriented or something else, but I'm not sure.

I am eating an M & M cookie ice cream sandwich.  It rocks...

I am also stuck on a Chem 1310 lab right now.  It seems I'm required to find the rate expression of iron (III) ions and iodide ions, but I can't figure out their initial concentrations. I know the initial molarities of each solution I mix together before actually mixing them, and the volumes of each solution I put in; but apparently, I can't figure out what "initial" value the lab instructions are referring to or what it might be.  But I have an idea...

I'll leave you with some lyrics from Three Libras by A Perfect Circle...

Threw you the obvious, and you flew
With it on your back, a name in your recollection,
Thrown down among a million same.
Difficult not to feel a little bit disappointed
And passed over
When I've looked right through it all
To see you naked and oblivious
And you don't see me.
But I threw you the obvious
Just to see if there's more behind the eyes
Of a fallen angel,
The eyes of a tragedy.
Here I am expecting just a little bit
Too much from the wounded.
But I see, see through it all,
See through, and see you.
So I threw you the obvious
To see what occurs
Behind the eyes of a fallen angel,
Eyes of a tragedy.
O well. Apparently nothing.
You don't see me.
You don't see me at all.

What do you think?

Well, life sucks if you were wondering, although I have hope for next week.  I'll be returning to Atlanta for a week tomorrow--that is, Sunday--to pick up what pieces I can and pull out of the air some passing grades.  Despite being strongly admonished against extraneous worries, I can't help but concern myself over certain people's thoughts at this point.  Then again, what will be will be.  I hear Fine Arts is next Friday and Saturday, and I hope to see some entries.  Let me know your expectations and/or results: trust me, I need something good to get my mind on.
Tomorrow, I have the recital for chamber choir and chorale; it should be a lot of fun.  As Yuki says, "Peace I'm out, man."

I find it funny that I got seven remarks for what people disagreed with, but only two for what people generally thought was good.  Supposedly, I could glean from this that people would rather blast me for my bad than take my good and bad at balance.  (I have a despicable patina after all the secular college demons have "seduced" me.)  But I'm not going to.  Furthermore, it doesn't really matter in the big picture right now.

People are illogical, and being a person, I would know that very well after all I've said and done so far.  I would tell you, because this is my site and I feel I've been granted the right by my lack of shame for fault lines I have, but I've been strictly instructed not to do so, for fear the ruins of reputation will precipitate my utter demise into the bowels of hell.

I think I get it now.  No one understands me not because they don't try, but because I unintentionally make myself confusing, then intentionally do it as a backlash against people's not understanding me.  Or maybe not. I don't know: it's just a theory anyway, and as far as my theories go, I haven't much luck as of late.

Most of you don't trust me, or don't talk to me much.  So it's hard to make anything I say justifiable, for I am naturally pessimistic and horrifically, "humanly" logical, both traits which never reward me with a good sense of social accomplishment.  It's funny to think on these things from the perspective from where I came.  How did this come to be?

None of this probably makes any sense...but God doesn't make any sense either and somehow a lot of people trust Him.  God doesn't make any sense because of what has happened in my life, for example; but He doesn't make sense in other ways as well.

That said, things that don't seem to make sense at the time aren't bad by any sort of value judgment necessarily: they are just incomprehensible at the time to you (general you).  For example, you might not understand physics, but physics is very important and good.  So your misunderstanding or lack of comprehension of that material has no say in the value judgment of physics at large.  This is not always true, mind you, for arguments that don't make sense are no good because the purpose of an argument is persuasion.  Forcing a person to reevaluate their position seems to be, to me anyway, the primary purpose of any argument one might have.  We are not animals.  We are humans with the capacity to distinguish animal instinct from the choices we make.  Every human can reevaluate their position, and that's why we discuss things with each other and not animals, besides not being able to communicate with them.

All my problems stem from a lack of communication with God, in my opinion.  Some people disagree, but they don't know.  The issue therefore remains not on discovering the origin of the problem but revealing why and what has to change to solve the problem.  The origin of the problem would be nice however, although I can offer some mere guesses at what started it all.  This origin, nevertheless, was incomplete from the get-go.  A compilation of things attributing to the problem exists, but again, these are not important at this point in time.

No, the real issue is this.  How do I talk to God so that He responds to me?  He Himself said that, if one asks, it shall be given to him.  In other words, what are the right questions?  Why hasn't He responded?  Who am I?  And why was I made?  These are the important questions, no matter what anyone, from gossip to philosopher to political analyst, tells you.

You know, the funny thing about relationships is that, for as much as we say can't live without them, they're all expendible.  Trust me, without you, your significant other will eventually get over you: you are just one mishap away from being permamently deleted from the human psyche.  Take, for instance, the death of a loved one in the family.  Sure, it hurts at first, but eventually, no one cares and you forget.  End of story...All relationships are expendible.

Garden for the ardent,

Show me something new in the fountain,

Baptize Jesus once again,

Call my mind's eye to your reflection.

What I used to see is no more--

No more visits from a friend,

No more embraces end upon end upon end,

All these things I've longed for.

Verdant garden, in your perimeter

Bring to mind my past,

For my present no longer lasts--

But quite a past, bloodsweat,

From better blood than my razor ripped open.

Inundate me with those memories.

I need some closure along with some peace,

And could you have pass understanding along to me?

It's done, and I will hear of this place no more…

My flesh patterns my spirit,
And I'll prove it.
Have you ever had a lingering love?
Like a distrust of divinity, or that mistake you made?
Did you lose sleep over it?
Did you try to solve, but the other won't return your calls for help?
What would you do?
Cause I've lied and lied around
To make this seem better,
Hid from people my feelings,
Expressed interest in unworthy things
Cause I'll leave this place and return home
To deal with both situations staring me in the face.

Why can't you both move on?
Or accept me as I am?
As lukewarm as the water seems,
All you do is ruin my dreams,
And it's unfair to me.
Is this vengeance for my infidelity?
Mistreatment, that I caused you grieve?
What do you pray that I'll change,
Because I'm trying if you give me a chance.
The distance I feel between us
Is 36 minus my age,
I run it so long and collapsed.
These are the words you understand.
My distrust of divinity, my misogyny,
All selfishness and hyperbole.
These are the words you understand.
In or out, I'll leave it to you
Because I can't understand your motives now
Ringing in my head the same old depressing tune.
I made a mistake. I made several mistakes.
These are the words you understand.

---

Seeing as how I'm working on adding friends to the "friend box", I think I deserve a few interpretations of this piece. What do you think?

**Edit**To you I've asked a favor, don't take everything really personally persay, or extremist, just explain your emotions about this piece.  The author of this poem realizes his own fallible nature and bias, even in writing what he writes.  What do you think?

Eye on  the TV

'cause tragedy thrills me

Whatever flavor

It happens to be

Like:

"Killed by the husband"

"Drowned by the ocean"

"Shot by his own son"

"She used the poison in his tea

and kissed him goodbye"

That's my kind of story

It's no fun til someone dies

Don't look at me like

I am a monster

Frown out your one face

But with the other

Stare like a junkie

Into the TV

Stare like a zombie

While the mother, holds her child

Watches him die

Hands to the sky cryin,

"Why, oh why?"

Cause I need to watch things die

From a distance

Vicariously, I

Live while the whole world dies

You all need it too - don't lie

Why can't we just admit it?

Why can't we just admit it?

We won't give pause until the blood is flowin'

Neither the brave nor bold

Will write us the story so

We won't give pause until the blood is flowin'



I need to watch things die

From a good safe distance

Vicariously, I

Live while the whole world dies

You all feel the same so

Why can't we just admit it?

Blood like rain fallin' down

Drown on grave and ground

Part vampire

Part warrior

Carnivore and voyeur

Still have the

Transmitter, sing

to the death rattle

La, la, la, la, la, la, la-lie (x4)

Credulous at best

Your desire to believe in

Angels in the hearts of men.

But pull your head on out

Your head please and give a listen

Shouldn't have to say it all again

The universe is hostile

So impersonal

Devour to survive

So it is, so it's always been ...

We all feed on tragedy

It's like blood to a vampire

Vicariously, I

Live while the whole world dies

Much better you than I

---

Any thoughts?

As of late, I've discovered a program many people use as a relatively simplistic way of writing music for guitars, called Guitar Pro 5.  As the Tech student I am (and the pirate I've become), I used bitlord to download the full program, and so far, I can honestly say I'm impressed.  I'm like my niece in the toy section of Target.  While there are probably more professional programs for this sort of thing, Guitar Pro should provide a large consumer of my time.  I'm really ready to implement my ideas on time signatures and key signatures in actual musical setting.  Also, being not so proficient at all things guitar, I can hear those ideas before I know how to play them.  Should be a lot of fun...

I've taken to exacting measures,
Ruining my reputation step by step,
Stating line for what might be
Shallow without clever, esoteric depth.
Smell of urine, smell of jack,
Both the same in your knowledge,
Having lost you, rebound to memory,

Remind still of the pigshit inside.

For fear in and of itself,
Tells the tale of submissive spirits,
But fear created in the wake
Of somber situations—a worse fate, indeed.
Look baby, he's not your type,
And never was the type to take the lead,
As your patience, a blanket of his irresponsible
Behavior in others' lifestyles,
Covers a multitude of the bastard's mistakes.
Was it not gossip passed over
From radical parental control
(On both ends I might add),
To aforementioned shit of turmoil?
What do we know from the bitch's mouth?
Have these things been passed on in stead,
Or in instability, a life shaken by overkill,
Animal words, anachronistic attraction?
We are still nubile, ready for slaughter!
I won't bury the hatchet for fear:
I may take his soul to hell with me,
But you are so afraid of your shadow.
Moving along, a further turn of events,
From grief to other sorrows:
Shall the rekindled flame blossom
Where you are removed a year's time?
Alas, he could have written the Vagina
Monologues in three languages, had he made the time.
Work, work, work—a territory less
Discovered than embraced in boredom.
I've sacrificed God for mammon
Before, but not as he.
You will not understand my words.
Your masochism misunderstood,
Your life an open book,
Your presence an awkward soul,
I've had worse circumstances to found destinies.
Perhaps, I've misplaced you for desiring
Stronger companions; I'd almost rather
The unknown be my vexation!
But those of relationships quandaries—ludicrous!
And unyielding as you are,
From the influence of extremists,
In the presence of your unwieldy life's decisions,
You return like an addict.
Psychotic people, love and forget,
As I've forgotten—you're still impervious
(I didn't hear this)—my manners.
Perhaps, I'm still angry:
You are far from me, your friendship,
A distant past you'd seemingly like to forget.
You don't care about me,
So what's the point of writing?
My art is my life and my death (soon coming)!
No vengeance could enlighten my soul,
Lift my spirit from the guttural noise,
In a world of melody and dissonance.
So I'll fuck myself in darkness,
Until another folly (mindless as men are soulless)
Returns to replace your friendship.
We'll forget I ever happened, otherwise,
If the casket reveal my flesh torn and tattered,
From an "accident" or such.
Just to say these things to remind me
Of what I have become, not your heart,
But a shell of a God-fearer,
A shell of a mature individual--
These things, reminiscent, I wait in darkness,
Fucking myself for all the mistakes I've made,
Crying out to a holy God, asking why,
And how, and what the fuck are You doing.
I don't understand people dissociating
From me.  Am I that grotesque?
I am too open.  I have said too much.
You'd pick anyone with God
On a first-name basis, wouldn't you?
That's funny, and all of life is funny.

**I don't mean to be hurtful or offensive in this post; I'm just expressing  part of my pain in a way that's easy for me.  If you do happen to understand what I'm talking about, and think I'm inappropriately speaking of such people, places, and things, keep in mind that this is my venting site, whether you read it or not.  It's through transparency than situations can dealt with, not through obscurity where problems can fester in darkness.