one night (to forget)

When did this become a poetry party?

From what am I derived
and to whom am I owed
For if I had not survived
who would take this road?

A father made me see the sky
A mother had no clue
Another inside met my eye
and that’s when I turned blue

No childhood memories of before
Nor more to take their place
death is death for infant or whore
and it holds a strong embrace

A single waking second
A ton of wailing cries
Every hand had been beckoned
in hopes of keeping the prize

Efforts appeared gallant
It was ‘just a close call!’
But the darkness has great talent
and is always prepared to maul.

A baby bawls
A teen bawks
Memories quickly disperse
News spreads fast of avoiding the hearse
I can remember it now
Much more than memories allow
My soul had gone long ago
in exchange for another’s woe
Though I had paid a toll
upon selling my soul
another debt grows everyday
and my turnpike is passed everyway

Boy did this experiment or whatever sure degenerate. Why was I making work and school notes in here? Didn’t expect that to come of this at all. I’m gonna miss writing in this I think when the project comes to a close in about 7 hours.

Burning out.

Now for some good live stuff by bands with the word “Black” in their names:

The Black Keys – Everywhere I Go

Black Eyes – Deformative/Ten

Too stoned for class. Got two tests back. Ahhhhh

Must escape this room.

Reactivated Facebook a few minutes ago. What a waste. I was going to upload some pictures from the weekend, but it’s so slow I can barely keep interest in keeping it active long enough to get them up before they’re forgotten about and left to age in a folder on my hard drive.

Huh. Or they just finished. Ok, so I’ll leave the account active for the day. See where that takes me.

Man has this day crept up on me. Gotta keep the party going though. Can’t crash out. It will be fun in the sun, but a bore in Middle English. I’ve got to finish this or I’ve no hope for ever completing anything creative.

I guess it’s today now. That means tomorrow I’ve got a test. This class is going out the window. I bet the prof will also finally hand back the one I outright bombed which just so happens to be the one with the most weighting. I’ve definitely got a look or possibly a comment or two coming my way when the paper exchanges hands. It’s a necessity to be soaring.

If only he knew how much I’m actually engaging with some of the material. So what if I haven’t got every inflectional ending memorized for Old and Middle English? I incorporate the conceptual lessons into my thoughts wherever possible, they will go so far as to invade my time that should be free of thoughts of school work. Especially that of a class that I can’t stand.

Balls. I can’t write tests. I’ll display what the class has taught me in some other way, please. I am certain I know enough to get a credit.

Never taking a nonessay course again. Thank every thing. Just the one has been enough of an experience. It’s definitely not a break from paper writing. Though, it is possible I’d appreciate it more if it was in the full-year setting amidst a heavy course load.

It’s such a weird summer school class. It’s very inviting for people watching. People decked out in costumes, others have barely made it out of bed. A class before noon is clearly too early for some while others could’ve done with less time to prepare for class.

I’m sure I’m being watched too. Such a weirdo. Showing up blitzed, using the break to get that way, all but leaving early to light up. Burnouts. Weirdos laughing at nerdy jokes. Freaks making sounds in a silent lecture room.

I’d say it’s almost time for another dose. What am I even writing about now? Doesn’t seem to be a documented flight.

I feel weird. Shouldn’t have tried to take control, could’ve let it ride.

This heat has got me delussional. And my laptop’s making my thighs cook. Like big fat hunks of bacon. You hungry?

None for me please. But I need coffee. And a smoke. ok I could eat a bagel I think. Going to class means getting all of those. If only I wasn’t so glued to this chair. I haven’t sat here the entire time, but it’s where I always end up retreating. I like it. It’s brown and flawed and sitting on it is like sinking into quicksand at a slowing exponential rate. Will it ever consume what sits atop it entirely? Will we find a bottom?

Seems I’m stuck in the spiral that I don’t recall falling into. No no I think, rather, that I’m with Scotty dangling from the rooftop staring down into it, fearing it, and letting it consume me. What an accomplishment. While it is not directly affecting me, it defines my action. Though if we drop, it will take us, the fact that it’s below doesn’t hinder the ability to pull ourselves up over the edge. The doom the vertigo offers scares us static, but it has not effected the physical properties of the circumstance.

(You’re rambling again, FYI.)

So what if we fall into doom or fluffy clouds? I am actually going to finish this thought — again, at some other point. Events change plans and intention doesn’t really mean much.

gotta read over some stuff. and hopefully keep my fucked up sense of logic under watch.