Trying to Speak.

It's been a long while since I've touched this blog. Not because I have nothing to write about, I just haven't had the drive to do so in a while. At first "Words and Other Destructive Weapons" was meant to be used to record my rambling stories of fictional comedy and then it became a haven for my moody, tortured and honestly shallow and dry poems or thoughts on love AND if it couldn't have gotten any worse it became a rubbish bin/ weapon for my aching heart after a needlessly destructive break-up. (You won't find many or any of those posts now, because they are too hurtful to be kept alive in this place and the person involved doesn't deserve them.)

I came to realize (after reading a friend's blog) that I can use this site again, as a means to record my thoughts but not in the same way as I used it before. I want to express what I am feeling but I don't want to write a long whiny poem that pretends to be Artsy without any heart put into it and I don't want to use my words as a means to get back at those who hurt me. I just want to speak my mind as plainly as possible and hope that I make my points clear.

Another reason for this blog's return is that lately I have found it harder to speak my mind out in the open. So much has been going on in the lives of my closest friends and family that upon our meeting we find it hard to talk about anything else. Either it's the stresses of work or school, who is infatuated with who, or who is no longer infatuated with what. Not one of these is a minor issue to me, these are the conflicts of the people I care for the most, I consider them incredibly important. But when I meet a friend or relative and they seamlessly transition into a full detox of emotion it's hard for myself to chime in and do the same. This is not the fault of my friends. How could they know that I am in need of a damn good venting when I don't ever come to them with my issues?...I mean... isn't that what friends are for? Secondly when I sit alone and brood on an issue of mine for hours I always come to the same conclusion...."Comparatively it's not that important.".....Now I don't actually know if this is just repression or that I am thinking logically for the first time in my life but when compared to what is going on in the lives of certain friends I find it extremely hard to justify shedding any tears for what upsets me. I may be forced to live in solitude for a few more years but at least I'm the one with socks on my feet, right?

I've been told that what is going on in my life is important and yes, I agree, if it weighs on my mind and exhausts me this much then it has to carry some amount of importance. I just try to figure out how important the issue really is.

"That person refuses to quit torturing themselves? Why bother?! You can't save everyone

"This person can't return the feelings you have for them? Plenty more chances for happiness in the future!"

This sounds good right? I'm rolling with the punches and trying to keep my head up high when nature knocks me down. But it is in this that I find risk. I'm constantly afraid of  and have lately found evidence that shrugging these issues off has somehow weakened the existence of my soul. When certain friends come to me to vent I feel as though I don't show as much care as I should because I keep thinking to myself:

"Why can't you step up and take care of it? You are refusing to be happy."

This thought always makes me tremble because of how cold it can be. I feel as though some friends need to hear this but not in this phrasing and not from me. When this thought appears I feel my heart sink because it only serves to remind me that I am not paying attention to how it felt when I found myself in a similar situation. I have already climbed my way out of that dark place and am fine now thus I am cold and unresponsive to my dear friend's plight. I am scared everyday that I am losing my heart again, lately I have distanced myself away from my pack because I don't want to hurt them by not caring and it is that fear that makes me quiet and unresponsive to others in my life as well.

I'm going to try and find my way back to the unworried self I once was. Because if I can't help myself, then how can I be there for the ones who are keeping me going?

Alrighty, that was my ramble for the night....which brings me to my next issue (Dun, dun, duuuuuuuuuuuuum) I find it extremely hard to talk about myself and not feel like a pretentious douche bag afterwards but I wrote this and it should come out just so that I can say what I feel needs to be said so that I don't keep it bottled up.....

........
...........
............okeh......

.....I'mma gonna post it......

...here I go........

...any second.............



....just....gotta press that "Publish" key......


......err.......

....Ooops!!! I slipped.

The Darkness

Resting amongst empty covers, from the Darkness I heard a tune, dear friend.

Hollow strings plucking over whimpers.

Noises so empty had no end.

The silent dark spoke of nothing, but the message was clear.

A secret once made hidden.

The loss of something close, something dear.

Locked inside a toy box, you kept your memory sleeping.

 

Too often had it called for a glass of milk?

 But you ignore it while you’re weeping.

Blinding silks mask your sorrow; you keep your sight to yourself.

Ignoring the temptation of the box.

All the while plucking strings beside your shelf.

I lift myself awake to calm your suffering.

But your silence in this world we live in proves too deafening.

Dry your eyes dear friend.

 Remove this tattered sorrow.

Join me in a bed of comfort.

We shall burn the box tomorrow.

-.db. 2/23/2013

Dear Friend

Dear Friend, you never gave me the chance to try again, or maybe I destroyed that bridge before it could be built. Regardless, I am standing on the other side of the river waving to you, sometimes you wave back and even say “hello” but most days I see you take a glance as fleeting as a spark and always you walk away.

I brought another friend today. By my side they wave with me and upon such a sight your eyes lit the sky. My heart pounds as the bridge reconstructs itself and you run towards it. My smile met both my ears; I had hoped such a day would come. My new friend departs, you retreat, and the bridge crumbles.

I stand alone, no closer to you then I was before. A tragedy I didn’t have the good sense to run to the other side or at least buy a boat.  I stand biting my lip on whether or not I should turn around and leave but every time I take a step, you ask me to fetch a fruit for you.

Today can’t be the same, I won’t allow it. I have swum larger rivers than this, whatever lies underneath can take me if it pleases.

I dive in, the water is cold and uninviting and the current pushes me back with intent, but I press on without tire or sense. With pity you throw me a raft and pull me to you and when our eyes meet my heart crumbles. Now there is nothing but silence between us, true you sit with me, but today you won’t even give me a glance. Where is my Friend? Why aren’t you here? Could you at least build the bridge for me so that I may have a dry trip home? You say nothing.

I stand limply. I never meant to win your heart, just your gaze and your mind. Sometimes it’s too late for such things, sometimes it’s the aftermath of something once great and powerful which makes it impossible. And there isn’t any point in standing on the other side of a river.

I jump back into the cold water and a large wounded fish carries me over to the other side. I dry myself off and begin walking home, gripping onto my tears. I promise myself I will never return to this place.

…..I’ll see you tomorrow.

The One's by .db.

Gather you're loved ones and hold tight the fading light. The world enters into darkness. Hearing not breath of your own but the moans of those who are breathing your brow trembles in a faith that is fleeting. Stepping forward and stepping back "The One's" slither through the black. Muscles tighten and lungs constrict with thoughts of the pain "The One's" will inflict. Your smaller kin grow anxious and claustrophobic. It's not Long now, "The One's" can feel it. The drive, the fear, the tearing voice yelling for motion. With such fear begins a desperate notion. "The One's" grow closer ever more as a muffled desire claws at the door. Suddenly silence heard by all. "The Ones" leave down the blackened hall. Nothing but silence behind the door. Your kin fear nothing anymore. forever more.

-.db.

O' Right....Love

the chemical reaction between two people, the explosive diarrhea of affection that compounds, and compresses itself into a solid soon becoming a liquid then drying to a solid yet again after rigorous physical contact....Love. yes, that i believe is the name for it: Love. it's that huge wondrous feeling that two Microcosm's share after meeting, and for whatever reason their nerve endings begin vibrating, their mind's dull and all space in the world seems to shatter away like glass until their is nothing but the two standing naked in the abyss. their eyes meeting in and out and then linking in one extended contact. suddenly all walls are broken, all barriers burned, and their is nothing else to share but nakedness and freedom of one's self. two linking to one another in an empty world that is their own to fill with whatever they please. nothing else can be seen, nothing heard, nothing is there, but the bonding of spirits, of bodies, and of minds; and to others it can be seen from miles away.

A Man, A Bear and Drink

you wanna know what's fucked up!? I'll tell you whats fucked up! going into a quick stop gas station to be greeted by a fucking bear robbing the joint at gun point! first reaction: get the drink that i came in there for because I've been walking for 4 fucking hours and i told myself! i says: "Dylan! this is WAY to far for a normal man to be walking! good job sailor! you deserve a beverage and not even" I said this!: "Not even a homicidal Bear with a gun can stop you from getting this!" AND WOULDN'T YOU F++KING KNOW IT!? a bear! with a f++king revolver in his dirty little paw! so any whooper i walked up to the counter with $5.95 in my pocket. for a 99 cent drank. the bear seemed undeterred from my presence there. he just stood there and snarled at the unstereotypical cashier with drool running down his lips.... the bear, not the cashier. Indian's don't drool.
i placed my money on the counter and the cashier had - the - GAWL to not take my money!

 right!? what an asshole! i thought so too! glad you're on my side! now we can get back to the story! you distracted me!

The cashier mouthed something in his native language. it looked like "hep mye"?...... I'm not sure what that means, maybe i was being proposed to. I informed him of how I just got out of a relationship, am still hurting, and am not ready to explore his gender yet.....yet. the Bear exclaimed "BRAGNARPHRUPPRUPP!" which I was taut in my Bearonese class meant either "Give me all your money." or "your shoe is untied." I saw that the cashier's shoe was in fact untied. how nice of this Bear, sure he robs you at gun point but he wants you to at least look good while he does it.

"$1.05 p-p-please." said the cashier. "sure thing." i said, "and a box of Whoppers for this charming hunk of cuddle." the cashier gave me a perplexed look. "are you fucking serious!?" "Don't take that American accent with me sir!" in said sternly before the Bear yelled: "GIVME RA V++KING GRHOPPERS!!!" i turned towards the Bear, patted him on the back and said "have a nice night my friend." we saluted and i went on my merry way...... come to think of it that wasn't all that fucked up.... hrmm

- - -

Don't be so quick to slander the man who walks with his hands so that he can stand on the clouds. the white slave band around it's neck emanates an illusion of authority while it kisses the feet of the one so called saviour. the hand walking man steps towards oil stains of a lost childhood and carries the prints throughout a lifespan of -30 years. The very oil that the fully clothed maidens of saviour stained on the portal of a small girl. cruel intentions of least passed kept you from growing as you sit in a crib that is ten sizes to small? strip yourself bare and walk out to a world where ignorance of decadence is a folly. the world seeks your pleasures as much as you seek it's, and if we are to die this night, then we will walk on our hands and pass the faces that say otherwise. nakedness is a worship we could all bare, those who remain warm by cloth, not by each other, are forever bound by authority of a world forsaken and a drunkard filled with religious cries.