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Expectations, self-fulfilling filing
Continuining to format folding
My hands use to sign,
In this dormant holding
where glasses keep me 20/20
and my eyes keep me blind.
Reaching for a switch
Dimming desire under the doormat
before it surface my sales pitch
I should write again
Rationate becomes your pal
Solitude is quite simple,
when giving up again.
Rationale became my morale
Morale becomes more
Memories blur and
their time of decor.
I pictured photos
a gallery galore
A drug, a woman, something
new will occur.
The bulbs, I change
Light never shines strange
Reaching for a switch
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?
Tying my shoes. Hard as fuck.
’play’ song above if you may…
The demon in my left hand.
For that side receives,
deceives and will believe,
As I’m sold to thoughts
‘why im here’ I fought
but the answers I sought.
taunt… and haunt…
hiding our signs
the fuck, are you?
a familiar sir,
a lovely girl…
Ive played you all before
and now I’m feeling your waves
as I push them ashore…
5 different realities
from past mentalities.
7 deadly sins
and win they begin!
to bury me. this-
scary to me… aha
It’ll have to do.
I must follow through!
opened, the door flew,
the channel reached.
Many walls I breached,
Coasting with a
2 dose hosting…
I had not seen
this kid, not knowing…
a small thing,
a justified fiend.
for what should be,
is disconnected to
If earth came first
humans are space bound
the biggest plague,
middle earth, medieval turf
where ships will sail,
white rules will fail,
and I cant tell
what the hand sees next
its written whats fed,
its death we plea…
my pen on the left
::::Calling homebase, “Piece of shit Honda.”:::::
Do you respond….?
Fox n Hound here, waiting standby to operate
Operation search and decoy
The green we hunt, our lies, are our bait.
We receive commands from our highest,
the devil himself, black or coated blue.
“Out of gas ma’am, could you help out?”
The green we hunt. Lies throughout….
A couple soldiers feat, to defeat lack of treat
This is the battle of fiends in heat….
Making more money on begs and thank you’s
Than ‘welcome to’s’ and ‘how are you’s’.
Our leader wants more
he now knows the power of control
families, friends, our bordering neighbors
shot trust in your head, then we stole
gather your ammo, pillage our trail
load up the guns, cock and inhale
With each dose of siege, the next is sought
with every moral breached, rationale is free thought.
A couple friends feat, to delete
every sober downbeat
this is the battle of a fiends cycle on repeat…
Im sinking, or falling, either way, its down
my allies, my heaven, my automobile!
used up, abused, running low on nouns.
Taunts haunt, ‘dark bound, caught like veal!’
…conversation, chit-chop, it up
“who controls what, one more battle must take place”
in my head, the war must stop
but im power fed, back to homebase
All these leaves are the same
I wanna head back east
Where colors are different shades of plain.
Harvest new fields,
while walking these new lands
Find blueprints out of God’s plan.
But every square mile,
of my bear in mind’s file, is mapped
and he lies where I stand.
(Instrument music n shit)
We pick whats grown
We cook in our head
When we serve excuses, depression is fed.
(other chorus type deal)
Its like a chase,
dreams of the male
we bite to kill
no catch in chasing tail
I should try new things
like go and find a friend
Listen to myself, listening to her mouth…
I could do old things
like go fiend a friend
listen to myself,
rationalize my health
But im sick of new,
and im dead from old
we can trade our body’s,
and only fuck god’s soul.
Let me take you through my head. Now, this is just a bullshit tour of someone’s new apartment or house. You don’t live in it, but they show you the bedrooms, the sink, and highlights of where they dwell.
First off, here’s my projection of how I present home to others. I try to be as calm and caring as possible. Ill invite you over for some tea and conversation to show you how cozy my home is. Especially, if you are someone I admire and respect, shit, ill put two tea bags in that cup. Ill present my home as if I am well. “Work is going well,” I say, as I also share some aspirations of mine with changing my apartment. But I don’t share the history of the apartment. Of how I came to move into this home or who lived in here before. I present the general surface of its entities. Although I do know the past of this apartment, it’s history haunts me, and I prefer not to burden others with those stories and images. So as I enjoy conversation with you, I enjoy to listen. Keep a talk going with open ended questions and concerning responses to stories of your past apartments(because all socializing is about where we have lived, where we want to, and how cozy we are with it now). As I hear colors you once had on your walls, tables you had in your kitchen, and the times you almost burned it all down by leaving the stove unattended, I connect. What relates in my head, turns to images of one of my old apartment’s but I dare not speak it. I hold it in with the piles of notebooks hidden in my desk drawer, in my bedroom. But I still smile, offer advice on home improvement( I did take rough carpentry freshmen year) and assure you, that you will know what’s right to fix your home.
Next is where things get filtered. Some like to call it the filtration system, I suppose, but for me, the vent seems clogged, mixed with dust, and in need of a change. I come out of my dream and awake into my home to rough breathes and lower depths of motivation to change this filter vent fucking thing. The fresh air fights to make it through the vent, but most is caught in the cob webs and all other build up needed to be cleaned. This ‘ego’ friendly filter is what is supposed to be showing me reality as I come home. Supposed to keep a balance of carbon and oxygen. Illusion vs. reality. But the reality of how clean and awesome I need to make my apartment are wishful and expensive, making it difficult to see how easily my illusions filter to reality in my own home as I do nothing.
The final part of my home. The InDoor pool, with the stone jacuzzi above the pool, flowing into the pool. The grand fucking finale that you want to show off so bad, but save it for last. For me, I must be comfortable to show this feature. You must see the dull drapes, the over thought decorations in the rooms, and the -waste of time to show-bathrooms. As you get a feel for my home and I feel you are cozy in there, along side with me, then I break open the doors to my pool ‘Id’ea made reality. Although this is where you can either dislike or enjoy my entire apartment as a whole. I feel comfortable enough to be OK with whatever you think. This is the point where I could worry less, feel the most, and be overall content in my home even around you.
It’s funny that the final part of my home, should instead be my welcome mat, lying on the entryway. But I sweep all the dirt caused by the old filter, under the mat and show the general aspects of the home I live in. Maybe I am producing a build up of tension for others? Where the thought in my head, that they don’t really know me, keeps them interested to find out. Or maybe it’s the fear to show who I really am? Or maybe I don’t know who I really am? and that is why I said apartment. Gotta stop renting out shitty space in my head, find a house, and grow.
Love n shit,
Taking everyday too serious without being in the day, always in the future or past. The future trips me out(why I always give cigarettes to the man holding a sign on the street, good karma when I end up there). The past is guilt and shoulda’s. The worst part is, I know exactly what I am doing wrong. It’s almost more self-damaging and shaming when you got a case of the “I know’s” but don’t do nattthin’ about it. The future, the past, and all the feelings I built up with those tenses, can stay where they are. But how do we keep them there?
I must warn you OC, this is not going to be another bullshit break up letter I used to write my girlfriend’s. Sorry, but I am tired of trying not to hurt feelings. I always questioned myself and wondered if I was capable of true love. This past year proved I was. When we first met, I had found everything I desired. My entire life I had been searching for the happiness of a child, you gave me that and more. After just thirty seconds of us talking, you freed my worry, my shame, and best of all, my pain.
Our relationship grew, infatuated like a high school crush, calling you all the time. Quickly I fell for you. In the back of my mind, I knew from the beginning this was not right, nor going to work out. Yet, as time wore on, that thought was pushed further and further back into my head.
You changed me. I became smart, witty, loyal, and downright fucking agile. Except only and always aimed at seeing you more. You loved to see the evil in me, for it brought you more attention. I stole from the very people who I trusted and cared for most, I lied to have you more, and worst of all I cheated myself even knowing I would awake to the next morning’s dry reality. But like all evil, you were so easy to numb my morals and improve my rational. So fast did things fall apart and honestly, your sympathy was weak, still, always 100%. High maintenance beyond that of a rich blonde, you only came around when the hate for myself became so strong it subsided with greed.
I was hopeless and powerless, even with you around, it just was not enough anymore. As if you had cheated on me, it was worse. You had fucked my closest and dearest friend, my morals. Letting go is something I have trouble with. Something about holding grudges excites me, and the ones I care and love the most, the more aroused and drunk I become towards the blame. I want to blame you! Although you flirted with that sweet blue dress coating. I peeled it off and came onto you, I made the first move. I am the reason we are breaking up. I could not handle you. Our love was completely fairy tale. Quite frankly, you are going to have a difficult time finding true love. With you, I developed my disease. Although you may have the pull with your attraction, the pain inside was far too great knowing you were not there for me. Deep down, as miserable as I feel without you, I know true love will find it’s way into my life.
We may cross paths in the future, but I’ll pray to my God, when I find him, and use the tools and love I have developed and will continue to develop from the true relationships, like the ones I am building with you all, that will we will not touch. However, I do want to thank you OC. Without you, I may never had found this better way of breathing, understanding, and living, that being sober. I used to look in the mirror at good times of being loaded and think, “ This is how I want to live.” Now I know that reflections are backwards high, and live spells evil. I WILL LIVE WITHOUT YOU.
Todd Anthony Hirt
*side note* wrote this before I heard Eminem’s “Recovery” last couple lines are similar to one of his songs. Great (addict) minds think alike eh.
Sometimes it’s good not to be able to read.
It’s really nice to have a girl around who is a complex, well written novel.
While most girls are picture books.
If I were to die tonight, what would I have gave the world? And by world, I mean myself. Tonight, death would be a bittersweet time. Sweet, in the thought that I feel I am changing my life. Bitter in a way that until June 22, 2010 I had not starting living.
I am finally starting to understand what people mean when they say, “life is short.” For some, life may be the few moments they experience before they pass, while, *I hope*, others find a new awakening sometime in their life, to really highlight how special this place of birth is. Maybe a moment of happiness, a time of clarity where thunder has struck one free. For me, a moment of low, hopelessness, and a desperate mental struggle to find a way out of what I started my whole life. A life of wanting it all handed.
I cannot count how many times I looked at others, and had my whole entire mind at that very moment set. Set on if only. If only I had a quarter of their strength, their looks, their fearlessness combined with mine. I do not know where my anxiety and thoughts began. Maybe being the youngest child of three brothers, looking up and always aimed at being as mature as them. But that is bullshit. I could blame my defects on anything. Over a year, new technology, media, and the chronic popularity of television was the reason for all the anxiety in the world. “If only this were a world where money was not the answer to 99 out of 100 questions, and I were not ruled by superficial things…” In a way it makes sense. Humans are adaptable, since existence. Through nature we have changed, and now that nature is changing uber quick with this shit, I think that is why there are 58374538947502+ diagnosis for a problem someone may have. The body can only adapt at a certain pace. For some this new world is too dog eat dog and many fold under that pressure. I sure as hell do. Still, there is no excuse for the worry and crap I go through, beside blaming myself. The mind can adapt and change, it may be harder in a fast pace lifestyle, but it can be done.
I predict alcoholic and addict numbers skyrocketing in the near future. Not merely because of population increase, but because of the human nature to want more. We are ALL addicts. Its in our brain. Back in bum fuck stone age time, when you found water, your brain got a hardon with pleasure and remembered that spring. Not only because the water made your body feel good, but because it was a part of survival. With an alcoholic or addict the same thing applies. People want so bad to have more, to be the best that they can. A picture of what makes perfect sense of the future in their mind. When that picture grows fuzzy as time wears on, the want does not go away. Regrets come, worry thoughts pop up often and your emotions and brain do not mix… The want still is strong. The want is what makes you sad, makes you dissapointed in what you have become.
The drug is what takes that away. Fufilling your wants honestly and through desire will bring natural opiates and good feelings. Smoking a little something, railing some uppity, or sending the good feelings straight to your veins is a way to send that want into oblivion( for the time being). Your honest wants seem so far out of reach at this point, that you continue to numb them. Until the pleasurable kingdom and the survival part of us knows no more of honest wants, but a need to rid of them.
All this cock sucking information about people being born under the standards of a normal functioning brain, well… is cocking sucking news( I think). Please do not even try to explain what normal fucking is. I see the day when all 1st graders are numbly sitting in class, adderall and ritalin in their blood. Because all children should sit still through a 6 hour day, right? A person with depression says the paxil and zoloft saved their lives. I agree, for many it has. Give someone the hymlick while choking, they’ll say the same thing. You can put a bandaid on anything and say its fixed, however, there will always be a scar.
Until you face your emotions, your problems, your desires… Until you face LIFE internally, then you will realize whats true to you and what makes you tick. I still am clueless on finding my real wants and desires, possibly part of the reason I still struggle without going through a day of a million worry thoughts. A drug may guide you to a more calm place where you can find your wants and desires, but I was not born with adderall, heroin, or zoloft in my blood. (actually I was, just not the levels society wishes).
Fuck it, if I were to die tonight, at least I am on the road in which I believe in to fulfill my desires, that being sober and the way I was born. And that is all that matters to me. Sorry I got a little sidetracked up there.