Croaking Toads

I don't know where I am going with this. Not at all, not one bit. I shall not talk about it, I shall not talk about it. I want something, i want it, i want it. I want it! give me it, or the sea shall boil over and we all may drown. By we i mean me and I should stop being so selfish. I still think convenience is a bad thing in some way. Not in every way. The way i think can only lead to contradictions. Is it me or language? (I want it, I want it, I want it) Circles, I'm spinning webs and circles and I can not accept anything. Everything is magnified. I stand still a child.
Take me back to a beginning! I'd be content if I didn't know, If only.
Crying beside a wracked ship, pooling in with the devoted creatures carrying the house to safety. Who are these creatures and why should they care.
I care, if you only would feel so to!
Hell and damnation with all of this.
I want it.
May I then not bury the fragile rose with my shovel contamination. I created a flower with a snake as a stem.
I always do this!
HELP me!
I am trapped by myself, for myself and of myself.
(We are all our on little galaxies)
Listen to the harp weaving in and out of a point on melody. Descriptive, so true. Applaud my dears! If they do not feel appreciated they will go away.
If I feel needed I fall away.
Into the weakened bow. Shimmering. Simmering. Foam around me, spirals abound over me. they are worth it if i say they are.
Preach Preach Preach Preach
Croak as hoarse a toad.
I'd be a prince if only......

Hearts spilling over.

If i had a song, what would it sound like? I'd predict shrill, nervous, bursting, multi toned, repetitive, with some amazingly sweet, lingering strong, free melodies. It would be timid and broken and it would try to hard, but something would ring out so strong, almost hidden, longing to come forward in the composition.
Sometimes I wished I played piano, or guitar, mostly cello. I love the cello, I love the violin, I don't have the money to learn. My parents never forced me to stick with instruments, I never had the resolve. Sometimes I remember the life i once had, and how did I get here? I feel like I should be exiled, I feel guilty for being human, for being so weak. For not being able to show the good in me, if good is there. I am ashamed of what I have to show the world. I am cowering in my perceived filth and I don't trust anyone to think well of me, but I think they should because I'm contradictory and I stay obvious in my flaws because I feel like if people see how low I am they won't want to bring me further down because I am sensitive and I care and I am irrational.
And all of this is just theory.
I barely have hope. Something in me just can't beat this off. I feel so broken and useless.
So where was childish brevity when I needed it? When did the strength of maturity come to meet this loss in faith? Will it ever? Nothing's perfect, I know that. I just wish I could look into the face of a stranger without feeling afraid. And not fear fumbling from image to image. Because it's useless and irrational and I am so too. Because its a part of me I just want to strangle, rip out, bloody, crucify, tear the veins out of. I just want to be whole again.

This is just all in the background. I've been relatively happier, though I can't stop from tripping on the rags of a memory, letting it become the present from time to time.

derm de dim.

I want to sit down and write out lyrics so I don't have to deal with the stress of trying to create something out of me. Maybe angels and airwaves. A few minutes ago I was confused. For a second I thought Angels and Airwaves has too much of an immature voice to listen to and like, for me at this stage of my life when I don't want anything to do with the naivety that encircles a considerable amount of my moods. But then I thought maybe that the whiny voice I was hearing actually wasn't that immature, maybe its just, well smart enough to not be completely aged. Or maybe I'm thinking a lot about the concepts and don't grasp them at all. Anyway, the thought made me appreciate the music more, even if I can't really recount the actual thought, as what I just wrote wasn't exactly my thought process, just a flimsier copy of it, strengthened by being put down in word I can read again, less accurate because my depictions of my thoughts are not actually my bare thoughts. I feel like my silver stranded, cloudy liquid funnel thought process is not the norm. So maybe you don't understand what I mean, I'll never tell.
Never is a strong, passionate word people say too often without honor or fear. Fear of being wrong, its slightly irrational. I'm slightly irrational, as is most of what I do, but in a world like this it seems that irrationality is the only logical thing to do. From where I sit, with what I've been given, with my definition of irrationality and logic. Which is not your defintion, which is why I have such a hard time understanding everything, because I'm only want person and I'm idealistic and self indulgent and masochistic.
I still sometimes fall apart, visually, in front of people. They mostly don't know whats going on with me, not that I know whats going on with me. Again and again its a loop I'm seething in.
My dog has anxiety issues with new people, I worry that I've rubbed off on her. My reasoning goes between being understandable to any one who could peer into my thoughts and sometimes touched outlandish. Sometimes I just feel you never can be sure, but being so open does lead to psychosis, according to a personality theory, which seems highly accurate.
I wish I had something thoughtful to leave you with. oh vwell.

Maybe

How do you even begin to explain this? Where will my words mislead you today? Its not like I mean to make people think things about me that aren't true, not consciously. Maybe they can see it. What is true anyway? There we go again. There I go again just questioning the foundations of the statement. Is it healthy? I don't know. I'm finding my way back to stability, I'm sure there are some people that think I'm absolutely insane. Mostly people in my English class. Like the kid who studied me for ten minutes to write a story about me. He didn't see me, he just saw how I was dressed. Thats what he commented on. Maybe that's a good thing. Fuck maybe. God fucking shit up a dick maybe. I have nothing but maybe. Maybe I won't go crazy today. Maybe I'll see what is there today. Maybe I'm not naive. Maybe they accept me, maybe they like me but don't understand what the like, or that what they are liking isn't really exactly me. I am whatever you say I am I do suppose. In a way.
She didn't want to talk to me, I could tell. She told me she had OCD. It was comforting, I told her I had an anxiety problem, she just was like, eyebrow raise, both sides, no change in anything else. Maybe a quick turning upwards of the lips. I didn't know what that meant. She mattered to me because I thought she was a good writer and had a strong personality, he didn't matter because he seemed useless. I am a harsh person. I could try and accept him for what he was and try and see that. Here I am saying no one understands me when I completely withdraw from people that I'm told are not worth my attention. From what? society, cues I take as meaning something I don't value, their own neediness, society.
So I am an ant. I'm that ant that doesn't get any work done but thinks they're important because they sit in the corning dreaming of mattering. Not that there is any account of an ant that did anything like that.
We all give ourself worth in areas that we don't have it in and ignore areas we do.
Appreciation 101.
I skipped it.

Apparently I ramble but I wouldn't give up that for anything. (no one else understands=my explanation as to why they disregard my thoughts as not valid((dont we all do that? or am I alone?)) )
I get shivers and I try to figure out why. I come up with some pretty off answers.

Funny how much opinions are unstable, for reasons I don't care to explain. Maybe If I could you'd agree.

maybe.

I don't really feel like this. I don't think (How can you?)

How can you?

Dawn. Have I missed my train out of here? The scars over my eyes do not allow me to find time, images are severed from actuality.
Pessimism. I believe what will bring me the worst, I am weak from wanting to be strong. My ears are strained, my mind collapsing. Magnifying glasses destroy everything. Barren walls, white stains, oblivion. Black holes. A monster from the sea arises from the depth and swallows everything. Where are the flowers?
Words flow out but they mean nothing. Abundance of top quality ends that don't justify the means. The emptiness behind the shell. Seeing a life actually shred to pieces, destroy the evidence. Nobody's allowed in, no one can save a life. There's nothing to be saved. And we are stuck. And nothing ever moves like it should. The valley's always deeper, arms are never strong enough to pull out. Dark eyes bite off ankles and thighs and back and asses and necks. Sensuous beautiful necks. Breathing is never enough. Never say never. Never believe what they tell you, it's meant to build you up but all thats blown up is a deflating ego that eclipses eventually the milky moon with dark blue. And grey, scarred. And we learn to be ashamed of who we are and what we aren't because lies have set expectations too high. They were never supposed to be seen through. The shade is trasnparent, lies comes through but its Blinding. Only because I don't want to feel it.
Sorry for being depressing. I don't know. How can you?

Hello World.

Today was the first day of yesterdays past. Or the last. I confuse myself in theories and thus without direction blindly galavanting. Don't sell yourself short on me, bat those eyes in the direction of anything that isn't a myth. How far down has the venture gone, how wrapped up in yourself can you get? Are you trying to be present, a present for someone? Care for yourself! You idolater! remember what stands under us.
In the back are carpets trying to be masks for the ugly of heart, nest to us is a daemon, above us a tree rooted in the skies, hanging from it a monkey eats your heart. Red and juicy cherry for a pick pocketer. So unguarded.
The wise die before reality can take them away.
The angry have forgotten what its like to dream. So where are you know my soft shell, you are torn and tattered and I am hungry. May I eat you, oh thing I once cared for. Extinguish the flame before it convinces you to jump in.
Forsake me.
Don't partake in the fee.
for what we give. We Give we give we give we give
And what is to gain.
A penny for change. A penny for the stars falling off our ass.

Goodybye! In capitals drifting in distance. What was the bridge.
It was always me. You were always there. I have taken me away and now you are left and now I contemplate the act.
Theory before action? Suggest me to a way. I'll fight it if you tell me enough about the right kind of candy.
But candy rots your teeth and I want to be young again.
So I can pretend again without knowing what a fool has replaced that thing.
that....that thing. that thing. that thing.
Bring me my keys so I may unleash in this.
NO TAKE IT AWAY.
give it back to the diamond encrusted teeth so they may tear apart the impurity.
I dream of marshes.
SANITIZE.
Tonight or tomorrow. not yesterday. Those days only fill me with paths I thought to myself I should never take again.
Betrayed by what?
I ask, I pine, I lean, I bend, I pray.
But as wood hacked at by time so I my faith.
And my mind is tall but every wind which ways sweeps it to another crack.
Hacking bitting bark is breaking.
seedling.
Concieve with me.
Dine with me.
I'll feed everything I can with what I am and what I have to gain.
And then I'll get distracted.
and want you again when you have gone from potential.
or have decided on another mother.

Would someone just hold my head and let me know myself?
So you may know yourself I would not do the same.
Assuming of course no ones else needs this.
No one else is crazy? Correct.
The universe doesn't talk silly. Stop saying that.
And what is this for.
Blatancy taken to a whole nother layers. Lame.
Was I a still born, is this why I am the way I am.
AND WHAT IS THIS OBSESSION WITH DEATH.

I couldn't convince you if i tried to say a part of me has died. Because I am still living.
Self oh self where have you gone and left me barren. Waiting in the aisle. We were to become one my dear. But you have gone and left me at the alter.
I would be a terrible wife anyway.
I would be a cruel mother.
So write me off as the other.
and leave it at that.

NO love me.
Dear ah.
tear oh.
its not funny anymore. And i still am impaired. So we never changed anything. So can we please just rewind. PUSH THE BUTTON. I just want to feel home again. Bring me to the womb so I may grow anew. And they never tell you how your heart aches and how you hope and how its cold and things are breaking all the time and if you dream high you never do quite know anything but the fear of being crushed by the weight of yourself and how your never enough and how everything will one day end and nothing is special anymore and how everyone feels the same way because we are the same and we are all zombies and how the nights.
oh god the nights.

Empty me. I Take it back! Do nothing! I fear steps. I fear staying still. I fear being seen and judged and not being heard.

And it was over before it began. But it began after it ended and I am trying to be witty and prove something but no one ever sees it anyway and it just messes me up and I am on the floor. Naked.
but covered in my slime. Its a cloak! so you may not break me because I am broken.
AND IM SORRY.
but the way I am makes me inable to show you. Or change the only thing that makes me so because its who I am.
I am. Its me.