musings & scribbles

k
i’ll try to start one
without having a
reason to. i often
falter/fail to finalize
arrangements/i’m
always too lacking
in that department/i’d
rather keep everything open,
keep everything going/i
don’t care/i care/i don’t/i
wish this was always so easy
to say i quit, i’m done, i’m gone,
i’ll leave you now and pray you
keep your distance– i am
rabid after all, and you
wouldn’t want to
scratch the back of a mongrel,
he might fight back and
trap you ‘gainst some near-found ropes
so likened to fear.

i promised a long time ago that this site would not be used as some sort of entry-system for a personal log. i would keep this site short, with only writings/scribbles and useful information. over the past few weeks, i’ve sort of divided time between doing just that, and allowing myself to deviate from doing so.

okay.

i have grey hairs. i’m 23, and i have grey hairs. i’m stressed, i’m tired, i’m constantly worried, and i’m a shaking little animal in a corner, whose only outlet is through allowing everything to proceed, because i’m too wrapped up in my own torment to stop and realize that this is just a life, not some sacred mission. but it is, and i’ll continue to be who i am. for that, i’m sorry. i’ll never be a happy person, unless i am, and i’ll never be fully satisfied, until i am. that’s how it/this/life/breathing/acceptance goes.

i’m fucking weak.

and i’m sorry for wasting your time with my personal life. this site will go back to its regularly scheduled poetry.

alright. i’m done being down on myself. kilimanjaro

i, chris, am doing what i can, and am not going to be for much longer. i time things horribly, but i’m looking to start over, from scratch, so i can stop feeling this way. i’ll never be completely confident or trusting, but if i were close to someone, i figure i might be.

no. i won’t be. and that’s fine, because, maybe, i’m just not ready for someone. maybe i need to continue being all by myself, because i seem to do quite fine on my own, even if i do go crazy/insane, but at least no one else is dragged into the mess, and at least then they can go about their lives, and not have to add me in in the margins. no.

no, i think i’ll just go and find something to do, and, having started a new job, that’s pretty easy: just think about work, grow monotonous, and live as though my life were based on a schedule.

i’m done being 23 with no reason for being, except for myself, and for family, and, now, for work. i’m obviously not, but, i’ll try.

i like reading what i shouldn’t and interpreting it how i do, because, at least then, i get to read something from you, because, otherwise, i would rarely be able to.

the way these hairs lean so,
a wave of light upon the soil/
spread whisps, a’winding toward the ‘lease of skin/
some aforementioned spirit, resting, dead within/from/
and though they be dying, these, so warm do they release
as falling plots their keepers, likened to the pots
and all is ‘gotten, for thei’ journey to soon be so.

so, there’s this song. not any ordinary song, but average, nonetheless. i don’t know. i hear it every day at work, and i never remember the words, nor do i listen to them. they’re just background noise to thoughts i can’t really get over. every time they start up, i think, “that damn song; fuck; fuck; fuck. why that song? i can’t stand it.” and then, later, another one plays, and i bob the head a bit, ‘cuz the beat is so rhythmic, so carefree. as always, though, this third song plays, and i’m stuck thinking again. i hate that. that’s, i think, what hurts the most; knowing i always think and knowing it never does any good, because i keep it inside, and i don’t really let anything out, until i’m tired or angry, and then i open up and lash out or close up and keep away from all i could never take.

blahdeblahblah. the commercials at work are overbearing. from the grease medley that all the girls come in and dance to, to the shins song, “new slang,” from garden state, and fiona apple’s from the last kiss. the only outlet i have is one playing of blur’s, “song 2.” that’s all i have, all day. grease, shins, fiona apple, and a single track i actually listen to. oh, and rv’s random preview, which i always laugh along to, and the wild’s. so, i guess it’s not that bad, but i don’t want to tune out those three, the grease/shins/fiona songs, because i know they’re playing for a reason, and if that reason is obvious or hangs around, then i’ll eventually know why it is.

shit. i’m sorry these take so long. i like hording things. especially writings and words. you’re probably not reading this, or one of you is, and you’re thinking, “what’s he doing?” i’m setting you up to read. i like that.

i like the whole, “this won’t be good.” i revel in it, for i do the same. it’s how you can come away satisfied, no matter what; you either feel as though you’ve pre-scripted life, which is somewhat of a rush/a sense of control, or you feel surprised, shocked by what’s transpired/what’s gone from, “this won’t,” to, “oh.” hah. k.

watched a youtube of leonard cohen. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLq7Aqd_H7g. he’s a good writer.

you should check ferlinghetti, william carlos williams, or john donne, as well.

so. life is all in the timing, and the timing is what life is, so, doesn’t that mean that you can make whatever you want into whatever you want, because if what you want is what you want, then isn’t what you want what you want? just be careful, because you may get what you’re wanting, and realize it was only what you wanted, and not what you want.

if i’m just words, then let them sew themselves within your thoughts, so some part of me is lasting, and not just a disease with an easy cure.