And Here I Am Again

same place for this new year but that's about it

But this time a visit
only here for a little bit
on the same couch I used to sit
when I'd try to get
(rhymes)
though now I'm ready to throw a fit
because I can't get one question out of my brains' pit
What did I do?

Why did I leave and what for
I couldn't have asked for anything more
but on myself I closed the door
And for what?
A purple shirt and forty hours
my nice red car all drapped with flowers
the same old jobs
the same old guys
nights full of sobs
thinking; all those knobs
connected to doors I didn't open
I had everything, a perfect 10
And I drove away from it all

But it's a new year
to start eliminating this fear
and to focus on my ultimate goal
take on a more adult role
because I hate this feeling
I want to be back
-permanently though-
like a name on a lunch sack

Wishing Won't Do Me Any Good - They Only Come True In Fairy Tales

Don’t you ever wish that we could go back in time? Back to the times when things didn’t hurt as bad and things were easier to fix. When instead of playing drinking games we’d be playing uno or old maid or even pick up stix. Back to the times when the thing that hurt worst was merely a scraped knee, and the person you were didn’t matter – you were whoever you wanted to be. Back when a broken heart wasn’t even faint in our imagination, and good decision making hadn’t left on a train from the station.

But why am I using “we” when in reality I should be saying I, because if I wasn’t then I would certainly be telling no little white lie.

I want to go back to the times when I was daddy’s little girl, when nothing else in the world mattered but me and him, and my hair was all up in curls. The times that were so special like the daddy daughter dances, and our daddy daughter dates that took place long before any of my future romances. I want the times when I never disappointed you, and when the butterfly kisses that I gave you at night didn’t come in only ones but twos. The times when you’d tuck me into bed at night and then I’d say my prayers; I want those times when God seemed so close, because now I’m doubting if he’s even there.

I don’t want the times when it’s oh so hard to look you in the eye; I don’t want the times when I keep on failing, no matter how many times I try. I don’t want the times when my mistakes are the only things that are consistent, I don’t want the times when you no longer trust me and when trusting me you are resistant. I don’t want the times of me crying myself to sleep or sometimes even worse, and I don’t like that you’re not by my side to wipe away my tears when I feel hurt. I don’t want the times when I’ve caused you so much pain, trust me when I say this, I wish I could make it all just go away.

I wish that I could make all the pain I’ve caused you to feel be my burden instead of yours; I wish that it could stay that way forever and forever more. I wish that I could be the one, who puts the smile on your face, but instead I do the opposite and that smile of yours I erase. I wish that time could go back to the way things used to be, when I hadn’t disappointed you yet, and you were so proud of me. I want to go back to the times when the only thing I stole was a cookie before dinner time, because that’s more easily forgiven than breaking the heart of the father of mine.

Parable of the Big House

i have to thank Plato a bit, and give him credit. for the most part, this is like his allegory of the cave but retold and changed. there is no world of the forms, something kind of like it exists in this though. read and observe :p

There once was a gigantic house with no doors or windows, or in fact anything to lead to the conclusion there was anything beyond its walls. Inside it lived a few families. The families were happy. The fathers ruled the household, each in control of their section of the house. They would meet from time to time, and sometimes argued. The overall tone was happiness though. No one ever thought about what could lay beyond the walls, they never had time to. They were busy with everyday life they found suitable for them. The walls and everything inside them were the only thing that mattered. But there was eventually a child born that grew up in constant curiosity. The fathers, mothers, siblings, everyone discouraged the thought that the house was not the only thing. The boy believed there was something more. He became an outcast among the house. He spent all his days wandering its corridors, seeking some small fracture, some insignificant crack in its walls suggesting a second reality. Many years he searched, with no success. His family and the other families grew to treat him with indifference. He decided to try a little more unconventional means of discovering anything. Taking a long nail and hammer, he began poking small but long holes in each wall, looking to see if anything existed independently of the big house. Room after room: failure. One day, after many unfruitful days of exhaustive venturing, a hole he made revealed light on the other side. He was astonished, for he expected, well, he didn't know what to expect. He was just searching for anything else that may lie beyond. Over the next few weeks and months, he began trying to widen the hole without being noticed. This was not that hard, because most everyone left him alone. When it was big enough that he could squeeze through, he did. emerging on the other side, he was blinded by the intense glare of the sun. All of this was new to him, he had never seen or heard any of these sights or sounds. After having realized that life inside the house was a lie, that they were all living in a dream world, sheltered from any and all actuality and truth. The society that exists within the confines of the house were all false. The very nature of everything he thought he knew had to be questioned. He couldn't KNOW anything that he had 'known'. He had to learn everything anew. Even things like the concepts he grew up with, that had been ingrained into his mind after years of living in that family environment. The foundation of knowledge itself had been shaken and he knew he had to try and share this newfound reality with his family. When he told them about it, and tried to make them understand, they couldn't. He was saddened that they could not understand the truth. Even when he tried showing them, they didn't want to believe it. He knew he couldn't ever live in the house again, not now that he knew everything in it is just a false illusory misconception of the reality that lies outside. He must live it alone, as close to happy as is possible. The people inside were happy as well, living under the false pretense that they were ignorant of. They believed what they saw and heard and experienced was real. And they were happy living in that 'reality'. But the son could never return. He experienced true happiness, mixed with longing and frustration. He dearly wished his family could realize the truths he had been enlightened to. But he resolved to living in the real world.


if i wrote it properly, you should sort of take a meaning about what i am actually trying to say. or you may get an entirely different meaning altogether. to each their own.

My Getaway Sky

This is it. I won’t change direction and I won’t change my mind. I’m leaving everything and the lingering disappointment behind. I’m leaving it all in my rearview mirror…all the times I’ve failed miserably to make my dad proud, after all I am just another face in a crowd. Right? I’m leaving behind that dreaded look that I’ve seen so many times, I just don’t think I could bear to once again put it in his eyes. I’m sick of always trying and never getting results – the only thing consistent are my dad’s subtle insults. Little does he know just how deep they cut – understanding imperfections he is doing anything but. Expectations he sets are never met – I try so hard but he never seems to see the effort that I put. I’m leaving all of that behind. I’m headed somewhere that my effort will be acknowledged, somewhere that I might be able to one day, some day, call home. Anywhere is better than here. The me that I am now isn’t good enough – if I leave I can find myself – the me that might finally be good enough. This life is a torch that I’m holding and it’s slowly burning up my arm – I’m running out of time to find myself. I want to find myself. But I can’t do that with disappointment always standing in my way or always having to worry about what my dad has to say. The only way I can do this – is to say goodbye – the only thing familiar will be my getaway sky.

Thank you to everyone who has helped me along the way – you have helped me so much and I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you but I need to take it from here. I’m sorry that I have to leave you all behind in the reflection of my aviators in my rearview mirror – but this is something that I have to do. I don’t know when I’ll be leaving or where I’ll be going, and I won’t be telling anyone – all I know is that once I pick up and go, I won’t be looking back.

in this land of palm trees and slugbugs, cocoa mugs and baby tees

and it's raining on a friday
people walk through the splish splash
and jump and run and dash
to avoid these jokes the angels play

windshield wipers back and forth
gotta see gotta go gotta make it there
in time
everybody's going going going
and all i wanna do is

stop.
and listen

and feel these teardrops from the sky
touch my chest and
i am aware of the thu-dunk thu-dunk my heartbeat makes

in a gray and misty day-time melody
i am caught up in this rhapsody
and i grasp tight and hold on to the sublimity
of this gift we call
mortality

After watching a video of animal skinning. its awful.

Who could do such cruel and unusual things

to innocent beings, skinning them alive

what drives them to this, it's not just to survive

all the awful events I have gone through

do not compare at all to the scare they put in the air

the pain that rains into these harmless by those who reign

in hate, these soldiers of villains, murder and killing

tied down no escaping, this fate they lay down for

take it, the blade slits right through the flesh, and

cuts off the fur, they're not filthy curs, they are pets

of mine and yours, pets who die martyred for nothing

but fur coats, throats slit for warmth, burn the image into your mind

that this crime has endured for far too long, and now its time to fight

for those who can't, dogs and cats put to death by any means,

so mean, it makes my face turn green and my stomach scream

and retreat from this animosity towards animals and the key is to

refrain and return to the learning, the ways of peace and love

above all, the skinners have to fall. Fall into all the evils and hates they've

demonstrated, let's cut off their faces and skins,

erase their outside and see what lies within

finish them off and let them rot from justice and might, the right way to go

for they need to own up to and show up to the crimes they did do

the trial, no denial, we caught them, now to stop them

men and women must serve their sentence for ten thousand deaths

at least, they feasted on the mutilation and annihilation of nature's finest

the dining room from hell set to a madman's will

and he will surely get his fill of the bitterest pill

the one of liberty and right, and if the living unite

then this fight will be done, over and won

light will find its way into the blackest hearts on that day

I could take all my pain and it would

be nothing to what they feel, ladies and gentlemen, this is real

the real deal, and its high time we stop them peeling

and have them start feeling for themselves what it's like to be killed and tortured

force them to endure the fury of your hands, the hands of a man

who cares enough to stare and cry, and wonder why

and wonder when this slaughter and pogrom will terminate

and if it will germinate a good inside the coal-minded, cold-hearted

bold killers on jihad, the free have no way of comprehension,

just descension into the arms of apprehension, with law on their side

calling for no stalling in the case of falling and failing to ace the capture

of those rapturing the hides of beautiful creatures, few will feature

seat and remain and don't do it again but they will until that day when

they are cut open, their skin cut off, while they breathe, no sleep, no rest for the wicked

it's sick they can inflict those damages on innocent animals

and it needs to stop, we have to be firm and crack down,

we can't squirm when the worm gets snatched by the crowned dove with love, when the

maltreatment is shown, with cares not overgrown and little ones snared into overcoats

smack the first blow with the fist of vengeance, so low they can't fit this revenge upon us

even though it all began and stands with them, at a standstill for lack of action.

That day far off, when they are scared off, when all are alive, all survive, and

they contrive to the good of pure love. That is the day we wait for in vain, patiently.

One For The Road

i feel like i'm tapped out lately

; drained of all my valuable

juices

its too much, i want 

to just let it go

all go

right down the drain

Bukowski called it

"The Frozen Man Stance"

i feel like i've been frozen for quite

some time. even months

;

i feel like i've just wanted to

sever off all ties with the outside

and live in my house for the rest of 

my life, or at least for

a little while

; no more girls, no more

friends,

no more family.

no more of anything.

i don't even want to run away

i just want it all to be exactly how it

is, just without me in it.

; and that would be magic.

magic i don't have

magic so i could

just sit around an

unfurnished apartment

and do absolutely nothing

but listen to the creeping

of isolation

right around that door.

and this corner

i feel so cold.

so frozen.

like rotten fruit in a bag

at the walk-through freezer section

at your local King

Soopers.

~I sometimes miss it, but isolation might be nice for a while.

Love,

Digress.

Right To An Attorney

lets not use names at least not tonight

let us shed the stresses that bite

change up the numbers and dial the new tones

hang it up / deliverance from your phone

shed light on the under roots of the unknown

its sad to think of most life being blown

but sometimes its sadder to think the opposite

the best inspiration comes when you are indigent

so rip the clothes and let it grow, let it glow

put it down in paper and ink

make sure you give the children time to think

before they discover their ship will one day sink

accomplish what you can in this short life span

nobody truly knows about the mourning after plan

sit with me in the eclectic chair

shocking through of who what when and where

and hook up the weirdness to this chair

we need a place and victim in order to stare

compile stories of the missing and the aware

electroshock therapy for your misguided agendas

and a new wave of evidence for your defenders

reality can be creepy / but you sit here sleepy

will you ever sit up and be a deity

will you ever stand up and not sign that treaty?

an inventive man will one day reach you

telling of the all new revolution of blue

solemn and melancholy, lugubrious and prostrate

this is the man overcome by his own hate

now you know what must be done

so i'll send you on your way

shine bright with your lunar glow

produce the better man over the show

one ups are two doors down

walk inside the streets of your broken town

it was all going swell, it was all going right

suddenly like a dodo you've got no flight

so rise above the tumultuous situations

and remember to face all that cause fright

your mind and your voice carry you to delight

go out in confidence go out / it'll be alright.

~The Magic is dead. its so mother-Psshkt dead.

Kiss Kiss,

Digress wants to quit it all.

I Want You To Cry

going out of style and giving one toothed smiles

broken down and eradicated

waiting for a new man to take my hatred

disgusting new ideas gone and evaporated

living on the fray and boarder line hysteria

kisses blown to malaria

give me a title, go ahead i dare ya

mistreated miscreants

business-like insects

fornicated respect

ostracized derelicts

a new breed of retrospect

give me walls is all i ask

don't expose what's below this mask

hide me like a cockroach 

lie me down in the eggs you poach

my brain blinds as you coax

i know the taunt

its exactly what you've always taught

ragtag ragamuffins

bold nobodies and nothings

cumbersome and dutiful

weavers toil at the spool

allow it. help is cruel.

sitting with nights evaporating

gazing into eyes so cold and isolating

another sad cry for you to stop debating

over the rainbow and far away

something there for what is here

so why do you practice regular fear?

ashamed of the way you're insane

grasp the new sense of violence

realize that humans are intense

voices shrill

piercing midnight thrill

swallow the vitamin pills

alarms in instants

and calamity for business

~Walk with your insanity, talk to your insanity, let it breath its wisdom, allow it to tell tales.

Kiss Kiss,

Digress.

Jenga Tower

stranded like white bread in the wrong neighborhood

another dying wish is what you misunderstood

when it comes time will you take it for the good

to run with the wind and run with the haunted

hide in the bushes of the ever-dying wanted

plastic and deformed the legs stretch for the daunted

a sexual drive for the unknown disgrace

male dominance and objectification of your haste

somebody get some preparation H

we've a new society to misplace

written in the faces on the television screen

the quickening silence was obscene

wanting new ideas they climbed to the top

and now a fashion show is exactly what they got

written in the faces on the television screen

its the secret the bodies scream

a no name number in a new name campaign

celebrating the loss with showers of champaign

its the clothes we put on that cause so much pain

little will she know exactly how much strain

can be placed on the land of broken insane

so far away--they were so far away

but the flash and glint brightened her day

and now look at her, standing on the bane

the vexation of the ones her purchase claims

and now look at her--high in society

look at her high on her piety

and now look at her--in the slums of variety

watch her lie to you and to me

written in the faces on the television screen

the quickening silence was obscene

wanting new ideas they climbed to the top

and now a fashion show is exactly what they got

written in the faces on the television screen

its the secret the bodies scream

~Fashion shows the objectification. the blind downfall of her. as a whole we are blind.

(its been a while since my last rap-- more on the way. a busy time.)

Love,

Digress.

since then

walking into that building
the unfamiliar walls
crept in
as i was praying
praying for you
you the one that i lost
so long ago
too long ago
baby its been five years
where does the time fly
i still have no idea where i am in life
without you
i am the same age you were
when you parted me
i still cant believe you are gone
my mind forgets about it sometimes
though every second i still remember your name
your face
your steady heart beat
your not so perfect smile

it seems my life has to change, i have to close my eyes and pray. let me just stand in that empty church and with arms wide open let me pray and give my body to Christ. I dont know if i am ready to be a new woman with out you. I cant breath right. I just
just
just
just
just
just
close my eyes
and
begin
to
pray
pray
pray
pray.
with arms raised to the sky
my tears
s
t
r
e
a
m
dowm my face

Don't mistake them for Saturday morning cartoons

Yours were nightmares with happy endings
the villain got the girl , the hero died
You would never have it any other way
my magic puppeteer ,
playing god
my life was your stage ,
devoted to heartbreak and despair
hope dangled over my head,
your solitary amusement

Windows

He is my cliche , my window into the world of unrequited love. Simply put , I care for him. It's a quiet sort of caring , most of which is to be done in the confines of my bedroom. I can only hope that from an outsiders point of view the situation seems romantic and ill-fated. In reality it is nothing more that a testament to high school relationships and a metaphorical slap in the face. All of which is to be taken lightheartedly . because anything deeper would provide them with the victim they so desperately want.

God give me one more foot, and another hand or two. Then I could add up how many times I’ve given up on you.

Sometime you have to jump, because there is no turning back. Because you only have two weeks, and it’s just a tank of gas. But if you just sit on the ledge then you can never really forget. Don’t take signs for granted, cause they are usually from god, and he is usually right. Hold my hand, for hope, for one try, at being something special, so we both can see. If it’s wrong then I’ll never call that phone number again, never let my fingers stroke those little phone buttons the same way again. Its hope, that jumping will make everything better, let you sleep alittle better, a little sounder. If you stay up and think like I do, then we might as well say it. If the world ended right now then I would rather be with you than just thinking about you, cause we might not be meant for each other, you might not be the one for me, but right now that doesn’t matter. My heart just hurts not being there to hold you close, just one more time. Just one more kiss, no matter what everyone else says. It doesn’t matter what they say. I know I have to know, if all these feeling are really real. Maybe I’m a fool, but I’d rather have you teach me a thing or two, then have to figure this out on my own.