i'm sorry i don't go out as often as you want me too
i'm sorry if i write tasteless, riddles of pure nonsense
i'm sorry that if in my preaching i become like the hypocrites i hate.
i'm sorry that i can't comfort you in your times of need. i never heard words that made me feel any better, so how could i give empty words to you?
i'm sorry if my jokes offend
i'm sorry i don't understand what it's like to be you
i'm sorry i don't feel the same way
i'm sorry that i might like women more than men
i'm sorry that my apologies sound sarcastic
i'm sorry i don't feel comfortable with your hand inside my thigh.
i'm sorry i'm not a better person
i'm sorry i don't have the nerve to say this too your face
and i'm fucking sorry that i felt like i had to apologize in a place where the only readers are those who don't deserve me ranting at them like this.
sorry.

some scrapped lines, the remains of many poems/dialogs that i only like or wrote because of these lines, thought they should be allowed to show themselves somewhere. (i may have subconsciously stolen these from songs, but not on purpose)
i fell asleep with dreams of you and woke up in your arms.
when you find who did this, give her a hi-five from me.
it's only rational to believe that you don't love me.
maybe they need too much to want anything.
you needn't worry about this one, she'll die soon anyway.
you're hiding your best part from me.
i need to get you out of my head, but you're holding on with all kinds of contraptions.
i wish i could understand what you want me to be.
modesty traded in for five seconds of attention.
forgetting isn't hard when you never heard at all.
throwing words like spears, she spoke sharply, causing hate, remorse, sorrow, anger, love, madness, gaiety and apprehension to pour from the gapping wounds of her victims.
i think i love you too much to live without you here.
i fell asleep with dreams of you and woke up feeling cold.

Hakura-san, Sailor Uranus, she would have to be one of my favourite sailor senshi. So obsessed with sailor moon. I have been watching the eps on youtube for the last 5 months and watched the final 200th episode last week. it was a very momentous. aaah... i think i'll watch sailor moon S season again, it would be the best season, mainly 'cause this fine lady and Michiru-san, Sailor Neptune, are in it. You should check it out some time. Like right now.... or right... now... now... now... i feel so childish right now. omega kawaii!

i was bored. look how adorable she is!

my mind is flooded and my head is numb. thoughts are beginning to slow down, as if they are drugging themselves with tranquillizers. reducing my mental process, causing structred ideas to diffuse into the surrounding air and drift away in unobtainable wisps of vapour. the eyelids become heavy, as if i've spent the whole night infront of a screen, though i wouldn't know what that is like. with lacking experience and a diminishing grasp of consciousness, my body becomes languid but my hands yearn for something to do. something to touch, to make, to hold, to push away, anything to do except clentch and unclentch as if they were extra cardiac muscles. my sentences become like shopping list, using commas like dot points. Analogies come into to every phrase and words merge to form sounds of a new language. a language for the tired and weary, the unaided and alone, the miserable and wretched and for those who know no one's really listening, resulting in the jumbled mess of words that on delivery may not even be questioned. maybe sleep is the best thing. maybe sleep is the right thing. my eyes tire of this screen, my pusle echos in my ear, there's nothing more to say here. there's nothing left to say.


don't judge personality by a persons writing
is innocence just a religious expression for ignorance?

living, only to grasp at the remains of those now gone. happiness doesn't live with me, because it died with my loved ones, they held it in their arms as the sank into the earth they came from. don't take it from me; i yelled in the hope of deliverance, that maybe my words would be heard. but words are just sounds, and sounds are just vibrations knocking against ones ear. so words being heard is not the issue, the words being understood is. but i'm left living in cold busts of depression, where no sounds escape or penetrate. so words to be heard mean nothing. they are dead too.

"anything to make you happy" he yelled sarcasticly at the closed door.

he never noticed you were gone, so maybe it's better that you are...
I still miss you though...

post-its

a lonely, old man,
sits in his lonely, old home,
with his very few possesions,
his memory is all he really owns.
there's a post-it on his oven,
reading "set the timer",
the white metal of the fridge,
is hidden under grocery reminders.
on the back of the front door,
a note points out his keys,
i wonder if he ever forgets,
the read the post-its he sees.
all the pictures on the mantle,
are faded, black and white,
the only space in the house,
where no memos lie in sight.
he hums tunes from better days,
as he drains the kitchen sink,
relises he hasn't washed the dishes,
and closes his eyes to think.
there's never a knock on the door,
and the phone never rings,
"no wonder I can't accomplish,
these stupid little things".
he tears down the post-its,
reduces them to a glowing ember,
now all he can do is think back,
and remember...

so maybe this is what it's like, to not remember what it's like...

smiling at strangers. is it really worth it? i got bumped by a lady walking past me today and she said nothing to me, she didn't even look at me. how much do we owe to complete strangers? are they someone to ignore, to avoid eye contact with? I wouldn't think so, but the more I look around shopping centres, the less it seems to be. Maybe that could just be the shopping scene.
I wonder if the "don't talk to strangers" warning kids grew up with have removed the respect some people have for strangers. Though they should know what is out there, not everyone is out to lure little children into their car with candy. It could be my belief that strangers aren't enemies, that causes people at bus stops and train stations to feel implied to talk to me. Usually elderly women, about the weather or the times the transport is coming, and it's lateness and other general complains, but they start it. All I do is give a warm, passing smile and they start up like they know me. It's a nice feeling, but sometimes unwanted. maybe thats why a lot of people ignore strangers... *ponder ponder*

come and take away my want, doesn't matter what I want, I hear labotomies are free these days. I doubt now, your gestures are sincere, goddamn piece of shit broken mirror. I don't know what I want or want I've got... (What's Free Is Yours - Pony Up)