fingers to my hands

now you are then and i am now(my love), and we are
a miracle which will never happen again,
a mystery which has never happened before--
and shining us our now must come to then
until the earth reopens my breath upon your spine

then shall be some darkness during which
fingers are without hands;and i have no
you, and you have no me:and all the trees are
(any more than each leafless one)
in its silent forevering winters

It's good not to believe in anything
The days alone are more pleasant
The nights alone are more pleasant

Pages of Me

My Boredom

I wafted through my adult-youth philandering around for a longing sense of purpose; seeking magic to explain my own existence, I carved opportunities for myself to live through the eyes of other people. For instance, I never had the impulse to try a single drug, but I did, because doing so exposed a truth to me I would have never known; whether I could emerge from the ashes of consequence or not was not my concern, it only ever made me more  audacious to see what change would occur. 

Too long was it unveiled to me that my life was too boorish and prosaic and the same, and knowing this, and knowing how discontent I can be, they agitated the life I lived and destroyed my sense of purpose; I hated that these people invented the universe--my universe--and I hated the possibility of living in this a mundane life. I admitted more times than I wanted that I was being too fixated with finding truths; every time I'd uncover a path, I'd quickly bury myself in another, with hope I'd find something that would anesthetize my curious impulses and subdue me to settle.

I've always hung onto sincere hope in the belief that life offered a love far more inordinate than the humdrum of a mechanical existence. What I knew, made me writhe in the hollowfication of my soul. Crackling within me like an inferno of contempt, I condemned myself to hedonistic rituals for the manically perished who lived in a dystopia.  I willingly allowed sociopathic behaviourisms with drugs into me, to drown me, because I needed to feel like I could drown no more. 

What I always felt was that I had control over my destony, but that’s the thing about destiny, I challenged it my whole life, but I was never able to undo an action after it occurred. I had secretly always hoped that creatures made of nothing but light would whisper me secrets and tell me that something, or someone out there would give me a sense of directional purpose--that something I knew would mean more to me than anything else in the entire universe. 

Then, it's as if the gods begged me, and like the sounds of clashing lightning they roared, "PLEASE DANIEL, DO NOT LET LOOSE YOUR FIERY CHARISMA!"

And, as if I were a kraken--I rather enjoyed my attention to the snare and listened to see if there was something of promise. “Come on,” I appealed silently to myself in a split-second prayer. "Universe, don’t fail me now."

I felt displaced when I met her, like when you do acid and resist its mercurial pull. I knew the planet so well, but I did not know her. I needed her to understand me, more than I needed to understand her. What I wish I had known was that the key to understanding her was to respect that she was fragile, brilliant and mercurial--a complex and challenging creature--sensitive, but ultimately rewarding.

I lived with a self-destructive core that's the only thing I'm certain about me to be malign. Within me exists the blood of divine madness that sometimes allows me to be really funny and eccentrically wild, but other times turns against me with such rage and creates a chaos that smolders like hell. I get this gurgling discontent in my belly, a sense that everything is pointless and that nothing, nobody is worthwhile, and that maybe it’d be better to slip off under a blanket or a drug and never face the light again. I think it’s fear, dread, or the terrible inevitability that one day, I will die with the knowledge of never to have loved a single thing. 

1

-----------------------------------------------------------------

My Disappointment

Gravity’s hard to dispute, and breathing, but a lot of things people instinctively obey confuses the hell out of me. I never understood why people loved one another, and I toiled to understand. I'd lament on the situations which alienated me from those seemingly normal senses. I realized that the outer surface of what I thought was my unique, individual identity was just a set of routines I had adopted to fit in. We all have an essential self, but if you spend every day chopping up meat on a slab, and selling it by the pound, soon you’ll find you've become a butcher. And if you don’t want to become a butcher (and why would you?), you’re going to have to cut right through to the bare bones of your own character in hope of finding out who you really are--which fucking hurts.

In the foray of finding love, I explored the physical, more bona-fide process. My first time was with an aesthetic girl who I met at a random house-party. Interesting. She was like me, only with the crave for sexual deviance. I listened to her introduction, mellifluous in flirtations, uninhibited and wild. I listened as she entertained me with buoyant honesty. I talked more than she could process, hoping I might intimidate her to go away. She'd quip back with an answer to everything I could produce with every sentence designed to ensnare me. She invited me back to her room where I knew she'd use me for her ends, or for pity’s sake at least let me know the ends of love. As she closed the door, she pulled me into her room, making me feel like the only person who had ever done so (though I was wiser).

I was 19 years old, she was 21. I knew sex was about to happen, mainly because she said it was. But I didn't know why it should happen, so I asked her, "But, what if we don't work out in the end?" She laughed at me as she pet my head, she said, "We will always be in love with ourselves." It was then that I trusted her more than I trusted myself. I secretly hoped that we we'd resort to loving one another; I would have done anything she'd ask if it were for love. After having had sex, I didn't feel a stir of emotion, not a thing. She quickly became someone I loathed. I blamed that she had taken away my hopes. I hated the disappointment of having sex with someone I did not love or care for. I really just hated myself.

2

-----------------------------------------------------------------

My World

All of us, I think, have a vague idea that we’re missing something. Some say that thing is God; that all the longing we feel--be it for a lover, or a home, or a drug--is merely an inappropriate substitute for the longing we’re supposed to feel for love, for oneness, for truth. And what heroin does really successfully is objectify that need. It makes you feel lovely and warm and cozy. It gives you a great, big, smacky cuddle, and from then on the idea of need is no longer an abstract thing, but a longing in your belly and a kicking in your legs and a shivering in your arms and sweat on your forehead and a dull pallor on your face. At this point you’re no longer under any misapprehension about what it is that you need: you don’t think, “Nice to have someone who understands me, read a poem or write a song,” you think, “Fuck, I need heroin.” During the time I was addicted, I told myself every day that I would quit. But I would always irrationally ask myself, "Why should I?". When it started to become a challenge to quit, I felt even more compelled to quit. I wanted to be the one who decided whether I wanted something or not. I needed to control my fate.

I found that sex was unimportant, drugs did not satisfy me, when these things that obfuscated my life were gone, I found that I was okay with being miserably content with having no heart for things. I didn't need a thing. I had stopped needing to feel as if anything else mattered; I had stopped yearning, I was okay with being without hope. I wanted a love that was more than cuddling, but I questioned whether that could ever be for me. I really doubted if anyone else could be like me and who wanted a love more real than real, like me. For me, love occurred arbitrarily, like feeling at ease simply because trees exist, or while people watching with someone I loved. What I wanted was to find someone I'd love so deeply that I could cry if they were gone. 

When I met Eugenie, there was no trying to be a certain way, I didn't try to be someone who entertained her, I was only myself and so was she. It was like I already knew her and she already knew me, and we knew we had something magical. Because I was so desensitized by then, Eugenie gave me a hope I wish I had had all my life. I didn't know why, nor did I questioned it, but I loved her the first day I met her. It's as if I was only born into this world when I met her. I was a creature born to be hers. I feared constantly that my mind would betray me; of course my mind will not shut up and let me enjoy the moment, there is an endless incessant narrative throughout it.

I always found myself much more comfortable talking to women than I did men. I understood women, I was raised by women; I had the sensitivities a woman, but had the roaring heterosexuality of a man's. It was an arbitrary zone of comfort that I had allowed myself to familiarize myself with, with women. But Eugenie, she was an otherworldly spirit of beauty. She was not a Viktoria's Secret model, nor did I consider her a model at all--she didn't have to be. To me, she could have been hideous and I would have still loved her. 

She made me nervous, she made me afraid, she made me want to change everything about myself so I would be more suitable for her. There are 7.057 billion people on Earth and for me, it would be enough if only she existed. I never felt inadequate for anyone before I met her. She was more important to me than I was to myself. I never treasured a single thing, she devastatingly made me realize that I would lose my purpose if she were gone. 

What I loved about her weren't her breasts, it wasn't her perfection, or the way we communicated to one another as if we spoke in a language only meant for us. It was the way she stripped me away from the securities that made me tolerate being alone. I loved her because she made me feel like I belonged to her. I would live a world blindly, sitting in a room with no light and be happy just knowing I was hers and she was mine. 

3

-----------------------------------------------------------------

My Solitude

“There is nothing so cruel in this world as the desolation of having nothing to hope for.” - Haruki Murakami

The need to find out what will happen if I don't relent or moderate my actions has always been a unrelenting source of difficulty and discomfort in my life. She endeared my wiles as I did hers, we existed as a pair that was complimentary to one another. But I was much more hesitant, much more untrusting, much more afraid than I imagined I would be, and she was too. Perhaps we became that way after we realized we had so much to lose. Any idea we had, we made manifest. Perhaps she was as lost as I was.

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true.

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
High above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true.

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
High above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?

/think

new post: *click* *clatter* /drink

/think
/think/think
/think/think
/think

it nears the date where eugenie speaks to end your thoughts.

The dread in my heart

how does that feel? 

It feels apprehending

you used to worry about having nothing to worry about, but this isn't nothing, it's everything--right?

Yeah, but more

she means the best things to you. how could you hope for anyone more than someone who's the most?

I don't have that hope, she took that, too

if your life were a book, she would be the punctuation to the ends of your every sentence.
But more, i wanted to write more

what would you write of? 
Her. i'd highlight paragraphs of her

so tuesday, what happens?
It's not in my control

what do you want to happen?
For her to treasure me as I do her, for an answer to my love

and if that doesn't happen?
I would have to let go of someone who means the world to me

would that make you happy?
no

do you think it would make her happy?
no

then why?
Because I tried my very best

how would you feel after?
I wont feel

Choose

I have told you to choose, so choose

between death upon my chest

or on top of the poetry in my letters.

Choose love, or no love,

it is cowardice for you to not choose;

there is no middle ground

between heaven and hell.

things i didn't know,i knew them all;
when i knew everything, i realized
i wanted to know nothing more.
nothing more to break my walls.
nothing more to fill my space.

hum

down the steps,
second in years
compose a phrase
write peace, hum

a shortcut, 
familiar secret
for a new space,
places old, hum

down steps,
counting once, for-ever
trace steps to
love found, hum

weather

she was unexpected.

i truly did not expect her

or her effect on me,

my heart,

my mind,

my feelings.

she was the calming sound

of the light, pitter-patter drizzle

on an October Sunday night

in my wake of a brutal hurricane

empties

in all my searching, the only thing i’ve found that made my emptiness bearable was love.

for someone who had never felt a thing, i wanted to believe that nothing in the world could be more important than the feeling that i was living for her; those affirming beliefs made it feel as if i'd become whole and that i existed as a piece for her; i filled her empties up with what i would have liked to have felt. what i had was nothing, so i wanted to give her everything. that made me feel like i had everything, too. 

i woke up to do things for her i wouldn't do for myself so she could do twice as much in a year, i held her hands until my hands were her hands so she could hold more than two things at once, i wanted to give her more of my life so that she could be twice as alive--so i could, too.

i would have poured myself into all the bits where she was empty so sh'd never have to feel how i felt, but more of what i would have imagined was the perfect life. and i wish i had more to give, because i would have given that to her too. 

the more i loved, the more my heart became veritable, the more acquainted i became with being less of myself and more of her

& 

the more i loved, the less i was of myself. and because i was hers, and i feared she was not mine, i felt displaced and more alone than the words that i yearned to know. 

i felt the things that words cannot say, and i became the things that i could not think.

i am ready to feel something new in my old foibles, filling up with empty or filling up with her plans

So ADOWAABLE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITFJgSld8xk

(You have ghosts?) (Of course I have ghosts.) (What are your ghosts like?) (They are on the insides of the lids of my eyes.) (This is also where my ghosts reside.) (You have ghosts?) (Of course I have ghosts.) (But you are a child.) (I am not a child.) (But you have not known love.) (These are my ghosts, the spaces amid love.) Jonathon Safran Foer, *Everything is Illuminated*

not too horrible.

Because I'd wake up every day with the world in my pocket and air outside all my spaces. Gravity was still, just theory, the sky wasn't the tallest thing, and the sun was always late to get anywhere, anywhere but here--for me. But today I wake and nothing was too important, and that wasn't too horrible. Drifting away from everything that matters, wont be too horrible. afterall. 

I don't feel the compulsory need to love and understand a thing; I don't feel the compulsory need to feel; I don't feel the need to understand life any more than I need to understand death; perhaps both life and death simply exist and isn't special at all; and that isn't too horrible to believe in if it fills me up, plenty enough to feel nothing.

I often toiled into the madness of disorder; but if everything is where it isn't supposed to be for me, I hope it's where it's supposed to be for someone else. My eyes close and no thoughts of magic is important. I accept living in dark illumination, the cold but bitterless heart, the empty pockets, they are all,

Not too horrible. 

It's as if the emptiness was what I needed to feel alive. To all the things that enlivened me, I let my eyelids be the curtains and feel the closing in that. Deeper into the nothing, deeper into who I am, I'll stare; curious as to what I'll find for myself.

So far--I find, nothing

Not too horrible. 

I wonder if your heart is as empty as mine.

I used to love you with so much renting fear; fearing you'd leave, fearing you'd find me not funny, not entertaining, not good enough in bed, not smart enough, not attractive enough, too weird for society; too much of too little I feared of myself and deducted away all the happiness we shared; I loved you with such fear because I understood that you were so absolutely perfect, you were a dream come true, and I only dreamt to be yours. You loved with such frightening understanding--you made me feel adequate for the first time in my life, like everything I had to offer was enough to last a lifetime, to last forever; I only think about the future of our forever now. And it was because you loved me after all of my wrong turns that I was able to love in your same untrammeled sincerity. Baby, you don't love me the same way anymore, because maybe you are afraid just as I was, but I want you to know that I love you even if you don't feel love for anything now. If we've switched hearts, I promise my heart will never change and that I will stay here and keep you completely safe from sadness. I love you so much now because I too, just want to love you as frighteningly much and more. I used to think that girls feared me, but it is I who feared you. I don't want to be cowardly, I just want to live happily ever after with you. I support you in all you do. I am here and I am just like you. I love you sweety. Please come home soon.

perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, 
it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.

knowing

I know of longing, laughing, caring, sacrifice, and of devotion; all the things I know, I know because of love and I was loved an inordinate amount--we did; I knew love then, but I know it better now. 

But it was when we began crumbling, that I broke myself from foundation towards opposite equivalents of what I didn't know, to quell unknown fears and now--I know that I was better off not knowing. Which is really hard for me to accept. Curiosity killed the cat, but it did me worse, it made me feel as if I've never even existed; being replaced is worth less weight than a discomforting death.

Me to be better off not knowing is mostly impossible. I wanted to know the things I didn't know. The things I never experienced, I wanted to experience it all. I wanted to touch the nerves of the unknown with an untouchable security of certainty and feel something in return. I knew simply to live this way my whole life until I fell in love with you and I was ok with not knowing anymore; it was the first time I felt complete, knowing something I, just, didn't, know. I knew I was happy--finally--and truly. Just being with you.

Then when everything in the world was balanced again, and I, as ever as I can see, became perfectly imbalanced in uncertainty again. But love bore its cancers of unrelenting longing for what I loved, and I killed that sorrow with wine and even for just awhile I become comfortably uncomfortable and do the same again.

Just as I knew love but know it better now, I knew sadness and I know it more now. I want to speak of new unknown love I've learned from impediments of my disposition and share what my heart doesn't know with you. When you are ready to accept me, I will give you something better. 

nightmares

I am awake unsound again, again.

awake with a songless nightingale

who only sleeps to empty the dread

of real cruelties in my head, until again

I wake unsound with the nightingale.

I didn't know until I was Brokenhearted
Where love stayed was inside my chest
I loaded you up into my eyes and my yearning grew deeper
I gave and gave, but it wasn't enough
There is nothing in return, but you are my everything now
I can give you all. For you, I can give anything.
Oh, blowing wind, please pass along my love to her.
No matter where I go, If I'm not here in the far future
I will still have love for you so passionately
I love you.
Until the day I die

I wanted for nothing when I was alone
Now I want only you, I don't see anyone else
I can do anything when I am by your side
If I could live for only a day, If I can live it with you
It would be enough. I wouldn't want anything else
Now I know what it's like to truly live and to love
You are a gift to me
I love you forever and ever

nothing is right

I feel like my life has caught fire, 
I rushed to put it out with fire extinguishers 
and even the extinguishers caught fire.

I think of you when I try to sleep,
when I dream, I can count on dreaming of you
when I wake, I check my phone hoping you'll say
Hi

I wish you and I could be together
I would try so hard to see
how much I could be
the one you come home to

I feel so broken

Make it Last

I'd rather hurt a thousand times for you,
Than dare to start over with someone new,
For you, Only you,
Sweetheart, you're someone who
Can speak to my soul the way you do,

I’d rather tear my core asunder,
Than ever see us go askew,
We’ve spent far too long together, 
Removing, naked to each other,
For too long I saw you glowing,

Vulnerable, I saw us going,
Then showing,
God my eternal debt.
I'll cleave to my Vow;
I praised commitment then and cherish now.

I’d spend a thousand nights hurting for you,
That so when the sun raises our mutual prizes
Will be the hearts of two lovers
trying to just
Make it last.

the illustrious us

I will be dedicated and cast away my fears turning real
I will let my actions heal,
Old wounds that still feel,
Real love.
Real engagement.
Real devotion.
So with quixotic bravado I let my cauldron brew emotion,
Motions beget actions & actions give credence to thoughts,
With all credit counted the intentions I’ve wrought,
Complete my circuit of committal,
With no fear I give my dedication,
And swear my soul to the illustrious Us

I hate it when people order pizza for me

They don't know where I order from 

They don't know what toppings I like

They don't know me

They don't know my life

They don't know what I've been through

I hate it when people ask if I'm alright

I'm not, neither are you

You're dying and getting weaker, we're all dying and living stupider

Ask me again when we're dead and then I'll say, "yes".

I hate fast food commercials

There's nothing more disappointing that model burgers

It's just styrofoam and mayonnaise and cheap makeup

And that's not meat, that's the spew of robotic labourized afterbirth

I hate the scent of freshly cut grass

I imagine it comparable to the scent of massacred people, except, only grass-people blood

I hate how cigarettes can't just cure cancer but actually cause cancer 

I hate how nobody recycles cigarettes and maybe build a mausoleum for the dead smokers of America or maybe terrorists

I hate how ice cream can crystallize in the freezer if you leave it in too long

What is it that you want, ice cream?

I hate the ideas of lobotomized people

If I say something brilliant, then I expect the other person to say something even more brilliant

And then maybe we'll dance with our eyes and then go straight to hating each other 

I hate how there aren't more fence signs that read, "BEWARE OF CAT". I also hate how some fuck decided it was funny to call a cat 'pussy' . 'asshole' is a better cavity to call a cat anyway. Assholes. It would make sense

.

Will you marry me?
I'd have been okay with a typo, a period to end something,

anything from you--so long as it was from you, for me;

It was okay when you said we'd be together, but we aren't;

It was okay when you said you loved me, but just--not now; 

I'd have been okay with a lie, or with promises too brutal,

But not even with words, not even a period, with nothing, 

you whispered nothing into me and said goodbye

entry 1

Journal entry 1.

I've smoked 33 cigarettes in the last three days; the medication of one lit stick of ash helps me for a moment, if only temporary. The other 10 a day is just to drown myself a little deeper. It's why I've been getting headaches, probably, but I can at least droll on pains that distract me from the heart. Still, what a bad way to live. I am just finding distractions. This oral obsession reminds me of the fixations from the past; drugs in general, bad behaviours in general remind me of the past. But I guess I needed it then like I need it now; when life provided no adequate ventilation, i turned to self sabotage. Luckily, I've never had a problem with quitting things cold turkey. I think self destruction and the willing for self improvement make for better people. Especially when you come to the realization of how you've become. I'll take a smoke and breathe it deep into my lungs and let myself collapse into the basal layers of my skin. 

I remember when I used to practice smiling. I remember when I was alone and I would practice. I tried again today. It was more difficult than I remember. My face just falls; my spirit suppresses how I want to feel.

It's harder to fake being happy when you truly feel undeserving of happiness.

I saw a strand of my blond hair today, resting on my pillow. Poor hair. It was with me for so long and now it might as well have never to exist. I feel bad for that strand. You were a part of me strand of blond! I will remember you.

I think I have problems with letting go. I love too much. 

again, alone

Underneath your cold heart, I can feel my shadow's heat.

if I can tell you how hot it feels, I may melt.

If winds blows on my heart, it'll ask me how I am alone again.

I just give out a sigh and ask why i am living without you.

i will definitely do it,
i wont forget you
starting today
i wont know someone like you.
it's as if i've never seen you
i feel like i've always walked with you
but now, we'll walk without each other
i am okay
i havent forgotten
i am happy with myself
i am happy for you
i miss you more and more everyday
and it's hard to forget and feel numb
when love goes away, then another comes
i think we will be
definitely
right now it hurts,
but after awhile
it will heal
when love goes away
then another love will come
this is how it will be,
i will not forget you
i will do that

i should have ignored it, like it couldnt have been seen

gently wake me up in the morning my sunshine,
i will wait with my eyes closed,
when my eyes open
with me will be my love shot,
like a fairy tale prince
you'll smile when you see me.

all this talk is getting me down
making sense in my brain
i'm moving words in coarse of today
it's not easy hard to fix through the pain
i'm waiting to the thought that we came
only to discover I'm aged
i blow a quart of love in your frame

ends of the earth

You promised me the ends of the Earth but I don't want that 
I just want you to feel the belief of a man 
love is drunk but drunk don't let you far 
All I want is the you that pulls me back 

Where I go, you tell me, 
My voice is within me 
Where I go, you spell me, 
What I start is complete

I try to keep myself topped up with all this good and bad 
Don't wanna fall behind the pack and illness send me mad 
If you were ever this complete, you've lost yourself 
You've lost yourself 
You need to reach beyond the star that falls straight from the shelf 
You need to reach beyond the star that leads straight to your wealth 

Where I go, you tell me,
My voice is within me 
Where I go, you spell me, 
What I start is complete

I won't forget

There'd be long rainy days where we'd take the car out and we'd have the stereo tuned to lovely old songs and I'd listen to you sing. 

I enjoyed how the many droplets would converge to meet at a single point on the windshield; no matter where rain fell on the windows, they'd all end up in the same spot. 

And I'm glad they did. 

It's okay now.

Okay that there's no more of those days.

I can always wait for it to rain again

And I'll remember how nice it was.

Thank you, I'll always love you.

never change

don't be blinded by the light, be reminded.

just look into my heart you'll see:

I, i'll love you always
i'll love you even when your heart breaks
all you need to do is call,
I will help you fly when you fall
I'll never leave you,
wont let the sun set without me
right by you
all you do is call on my name
this world may,
but my love will
never change.

even if i wanted to,
i don't think have enough words
to tell you how i feel today

these days i'll search for pieces
for love to help me hold on
to wait and be gracious

these days

I've been out walking
I don't do too much talking these days
These days...
These days I simply think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do
And all the times I had the chance to

I've stopped my rambling
I won't do too much gambling these days
These days...
These days I simply think about
How all the changes came about my way
And I wonder if I'll see another highway

I had a lover
I don't think I'll risk another these days
These days...
These days I seem to be afraid
To live the life that I have made in song
It's just that I've been losing so long

La la la la la

I've stopped my dreaming
I won't do too much scheming these days
These days...
These days I sit on cornerstones
And count the time in quartertones to ten
Please don't confront me with my failures
I have not forgotten them