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Subject:*sneeze*
Time:01:34 pm
Holy fuck the dust has collected around here!

Then again its only been recently that my access to LJ land and the subsequent communities I'm apart of has been consistent.

And what have I been doing in my absence?

Go to my journal. Its crawling with all sorts of useless information..and stuff about work..and pretty much selling out to my checkbook. No fun. Someone kindly regress time when it was alright for me not to know better and poop in my diaper!

Noticing the lack of activity though..guess I'm not the only one that the inkwells are dry, and the keyboard just doesn't want to work.

I'm hoping that changes! Meantime, so long for now.
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Time:01:42 am
panic attack. is it like that
which
maybe it depends on how severe
sometimes
your lungs dont fill with air
sometimes
you grasp grope around
frantic
in a panic frantically panicked
trying
to make it fuck end
maybe
you wake up
later
your lungs packed with dirt sand
small pebbles
evidence of your last
attempt
we all have at our core in the savage
unconscious
part of us to survive finely packed
ground
worm tunnels around you
through you
your head says just black earth
around
your reaction no choice says
must be
there IS air in here

somewhere

terrestrial gills. its there.
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Subject:bioluminescence
Time:01:37 am
crustacean caves
polyp walls
enclose

from undercurrents
not much cooler
than those above

colors surround
in mazes
shapes so familiar

wholly immersed
and colder now
blue light or nothing

nitrogen risk
but no one can resist the thought
of finding something new

fanged tooth
armored
in darkness

hoping for
bioluminescence
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Subject:Feedback please.
Time:01:02 am
Stranded



The full moon shines in through the transparent white curtains
lighting up the tiny room that’s floating on a sea of unpolished wood.
The giant floor dwarfs the doors and windows,
and engulfs the walls, isolating me from the rest of the house.

Stranded on the couch, surrounded by oak surf, I slide
my feet back and forth, skiing along the top of the wood,
the sand and dirt and dead skin cells flying by under my feet.
An unimportant logo on an abandoned business card
surfs the floor towards me, with a little help from the breeze.

The whir of the ceiling fan is accompanied by an occasional ding
from the pull string hitting the light fixture—
one that looks like a bowl of fruit filled with pear shaped light bulbs
glued upside down to the bottom of the fan.

When the moon cowers behind the clouds, the light brown waves
turn darker. The grooves in the bare wood pound my feet,
while the ceiling distorts into an angry sky.
Shadows act like clouds swirling above an upset ocean.
The logo, stuck surfing in the impending storm will be lost before dawn,
and I will slowly drowned in my own sea of thoughts.
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Time:12:33 am
its hard
it is
this life
i just dont know where to begin
the days
they never end
and its hard
just to pretend
i want
to have it all
i need
someone to call
i wait
in silent prayer
i hope
that you'll be there
i cry
myself to sleep
i want
you to be here
right now
with me
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Current Music:Somewhere out there-Our Lady Peace
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Time:09:43 pm
Dont bitch at me
cuz you got nothing to do
Dont scream at me
cuz every time you do
its more of me you loose
I have feelings
I dont think you know
how much I do hurt
How I do love you so
but the more you scream
the less you'll know
cuz the more you scream
the further from you I'll go
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Current Music:Ocean Colour Scene "I Love You"
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Subject:Love to live or live to love?
Time:06:46 pm
Current Mood:weak
I'm going crazy. I don't know where else to turn, so I'm coming here. I've been here. I'm turning to you. All of you, that I can't see, with voices that I can't hear. But I'm still turning to you, because knowing someone is there listening, even if you can't see them or hear them, is better than knowing that no one is listening.
Then again, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you aren't listening, and I am just here tearing down the wall to my heart and exposing it to no one. For no one. Or, maybe this is just some kind of personal therapy that's supposed to help me.
I doubt that it is any of this. It's all just words.
This is addressed to anyone who will listen. Anyone who wants something to read to escape their own life, there own troubles. Use me. Use mine. Make fun of it. Laugh at it. Ignore it.
Why is it that most people's unwritten, unexpressed goal in life is to find "true love?" I ask the question being one of those people. Those people that you love to make fun of on t.v. and in movies. The people you love to hate, until you wake up one day and realize that you are them. You are what you hate, and when you hate yourself, you can never be happy.
We are human. We are born with wants and needs. On that list of wants and needs, love is a want. We don't need love in order to live. Love isn't our oxygen or our water. As much as we want it to be, love isn't our life support.
As we get older, we are more vulnerable to be impacted by love, but not because we start to understand it, because love is not logical. Love is something that no one really understands. It is not mathematical or scientific or even artistic. It is all based on faith and beliefs. Faith in yourself and believing in the other person.
There is nothing we can do but be patient about it. We spill our feelings to that other person, and we wait to see what they do. Do they run? Laugh? Cry? Do they feel the same way? Waiting for a response might be the most painful time in our life. We are so helpless while we are waiting. We are floating in a sea of misery waiting to see if someone throws us a life saver. If they don't, we sink, and we start over.
Love is all a cycle of birth and death and rebirth. Love is Buddhism. Until we are enlightened, until we find that person to liberate us from the cycle, we will continue die and be reborn again and again.
We cease to be alive when we think we need love to live. When we think that we need love, just as much as we need air and water, it becomes a problem. We become a walking problem. When love becomes a need, that's when things get fucked-up. That's when we lose control of our own life.
When love becomes a need, we our no longer in control of our happiness.
Don't use my heart to break your fall.
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Subject:me? sarcastic? why the very idea!
Time:03:00 pm
Okay so I'm also a myspace whore, and there's this book club thing I'm apart of. This chick actually had the balls to start a discussion thread with THIS..

Subject: Can Anyone Write?
"That is my one simple question. I chose to be completely impartial, but I'd like to know people's reception of my question and subsequent response.
Can anyone write?
P.S No sarcasm!"

So while some people took it as, "anyone with talent can write," and some more self-serving nonsense I had to scroll past or barf reading, well..here's what I said..

"Why yese, I cane write. I were in colege so's I can write gooder Englishe. Me learned all sorts of kewl stuff like did u know their are 28 leeters in the alphabet?! And they make wordes two!"

CAN YOU WRITE? Can you breathe, chick?! Asking a bunch of book junkies and authors if they can write and then having the nerve to say "no sarcasm.."
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Current Music:The Notwist "Pick Up The Phone"
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Subject:Black. [Grey.] White.
Time:09:14 pm
Current Mood:blank/empty
She loves me. She loves me not. She loves me. She loves me not. Love. Not. Love. Not. Black. White. Black. White. When was love ever this separate? When was it ever this clear? The problems with love aren't black or white. They are grey. The problems are every shade of grey in between the black and the white. That's where the jealousy hides. That's where the unfaithfulness lies. That big pool of grey is what holds everything that we don't want to see.
Seeing the black and white isn't what hurts us. It's that grey area that's what scares us. It's the "She loves me, but can't be with me," and the "She loves me not, but will still lead me on like she does" that kills us. It's the grey area that makes our stomach turn like a cement mixer. And it's the grey area that makes us want to forget.
Even if we do only see the black and white. Only the love and the not. That flower still dies. It has been picked and those petals ripped off with ever "love" and "not." No matter what the outcome is, no matter if he or she loves you or doesn't, it still dies. Love dies, because like everything else in our lives, it is fleeting.
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Time:11:18 pm
Just in one of those kind of moods. And this came out. Of course I think it's horrific but it's pretty raw and pretty out there and pretty much I feel right now.

MirrorCollapse )
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[icon] LAmerica
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