In God (We Trust)

without much hope
you stand in line hoping for a revelation
on events inside
where everyone prays to some fading light
that forgives all
of their previous sins
"one day," you think
"they'll let me in"
just to be a part of their little game
where they'll say,
"you're not like us,
inside this place,
your just a tad outside the box"
and like a mime
though invisible lines
you'll walk out the door
and drink in their trust.

Critical Thinking (or Herein Lies a Path to Insanity)

so, i started a new writing class on st. patricks day, and honestly i hate it so far.

usually in-between taking writing classes i find ways to change my "writers voice". i know it sounds impossible, you usually always write in the same voice for all of your life.blah-blah-blah.

but i try. i don't know how much i truly succeed in it, but i try. it's that which counts.

but now, in less the a semester's time, i have taken two writing classes. and because of the no-real-break-in-between i haven't had time to really work on recreating my writing style.

this sounds fucked, but its making my writing sound all too similar. not fresh. or new.

just more of the same.

i don't know, maybe it is arrogance but it sounds unlike me.

not polished. unsupportive.

something.

but who knows? maybe it is just the prompt.

hopefully.

Sometimes Thoughts Just Come and Go

if everything we ever did was okay, what would be the point of living life?

---

i remember staring into the sun when i was little and knowing it would make me go blind if i kept at it. but i wanted to see the sun. i didn't want to just feel the heat that was traveling however many millions of miles to shine down upon me.

i wanted to stare the sun down.

i wanted to see the sun.

---

you see, it doesn't matter how hard you try, you walk down your own path. it's like a film or novel with a twist at the end. you walk down your road, and at the end, there is a sign that says, "which way?" and it shows two arrows.

one points back. the other ahead.

and you decide then. it is at that point where you decide.

not before. not after. just when you come upon that sign.

---

tick. tock.

tick. tock.

tick.

---

if you watch a clock and then wish for it to take you back in time, eventually, staring at that clock it will go back.

minute by minute.

hour by hour.

until you realize the past isn't what you believed it to be in the present.

---
mirror, mirror.

i wish i still understood.

or knew just who the fuck you are still.

hey, don't you know.

no one is ever going to know.

---

sometimes thoughts just come and go. like one second you are thinking about going out with friends you have not seen in months, and then you figure that doing something else may be better.

after all, do you really still want to know?

---

fuck.

First Horizon

first horizon

the sun drops
below the first horizon
where time began behind the misty mountain
standing there on the edge of the world
counting towards a forgotten motion
the waves crash on rocks below
where the clocks don't tick
into some unknown
where the sun explodes
below the first horizon
where time began behind the misty mountain

---
thought i'd restart the whole blogging "thing" with what got me blogging to begin with: an off the wall (called "cow") poem on Xanga.


i will keep this up this time.