Just something that leaks now and again...

my days no longer run to a schedule. i wake up miday because its less time i have to wait for the night to come creeping in. 2 films long? yeah. 2 films until my dad gets home. thats about 4 hours until i ahve to leave the house for the evening. i love my parents, but there still people. or maybe i should jsut stay in and listen to all the songs on my spotify playlist... see if i can dig up anything worth writing about. no money to get high this week (there would be a sad emoticon here, but i cant bare using them. but the urge i just cannot seem to control).

i cant seem to win with myself. i wage war against my ego with my ego. a never ending battle. every minute passes with pain staking detail etched into every second. i am unaware when im asleep (whatever that means). i sink with these moments. i am the dying soldier of a culture best known for its 'humanity'. i am dying within you. people talk to me about my fufture asthough its something i never care to bless with my thoughts. the truth is i think more about tomrow then i do about today. my mind trails of into the future where i imagine rosey cheeked women and the 9 to 5 job that gives so much purpose to the night.

i sicken myself with relentless question.

today there are no measurements. there is nothing to preoccupy my mind with other then the overwhelming yearning to be somebody else. today i shall be named rupert and wear a big green suit with hate written on the back of it in pixelated bold lettering. today i will take on the world with my golden handshakes and my feathered opression. today, my name is rupert. and i shall tlak to you as though id known you my entire life. yes, that seems fitting. maybe you should be someone else aswell. you could be me. i will lend you my pen and my notebook and you can take notes of what you see. all instructions written on the backs of eyelids. we sleep becasue we ahve to read up about tomorow. 1 hour - 2 - 3 - 4 --------------------- we could go on forever. instead we should spend the time counting stars on moonlit evenings. i could hold your hand and we could laugh about things as if they were the result of some ridiculously pathetic circus freak's act. or perhaps not. today i am still myself. and i shall interpret things as such.

at the very center of my imagination stands you. visions of you. streaming. fluctuating. dependent only on one thing... need. it is indisputable that i am in need of some solidarity for which to stand upon. i can no longer look at the mirror before me and say "that is i". instead i now say "is that i?". makes sense if your singing. i am tempted to seek out the sirens song. it is as beautiful and rich as her pout lips. but i must not. no. i must not. instead i will loose myself in this cloud of smoke that surrounds me. blankets me. sentuates me.

time stands still for no man. good job im not a man then. time stands still for me because i know theres something worth seeing. i am trpped within the ever pushing envelope. i will post myself whilst laughing about the crazy, warped and random things i write about. how pathetic. i breath because my body is a biological machine and is programed to do so. it powers my meaningless existence becasue its what it was made for. my thoughts on the other hand... what is the purpose of direct experience? who fucking cares.

i am angry at myself for not being able to write my thoughts down as intricatly beautiful as they are in my mind. for that, i despise every single bone in my pathetic body. i hope i suffer for it. i hope i die because of it.