ebbing life
ceasing flow
filtered down
unheard not felt
like this with skin
in hands
softened by tears
pain
filtered from
inconsequential places
in my mind
hidden behind
what lies beneath these thoughts
not a mystery
not wanted
or thought about
forgotten
never existed
an empy space
carved with malice
what once was
skipping stones
lapping water
sample this
for later
please
let's talk about
filter my thoughts
to some end.

the price of something
held for
moments fleeting
cost benefit
maximization
in choice matters
satisfaction cannot
be achieved
in this or
what you might call
experimentation
confronted choices
balance outward
signs of struggle
bring me the head
bring me the head
dare this
to me
I can’t won’t will not
choose
a likeness less
leveled upon me
more than given
broken by more than weight
take this
take this
strangers across crowded rooms
in infinite poses
beckoning choices
learn something
beg for more
come back for less.

I think its Count of Monte Cristo meets Cryptonomicon, with a bit of Lord of the Rings.That would be something to write home about, perhaps even be proud of.

I’m not even sure about that. I’m not even sure about that. I can’t say enough about how unsure I am about that.

Leave it to me to think of this, to bring myself to this and leave it. Left for a purpose, sure, considered, not really. I can’t think of a better way to begin; a better way to think about, or approach, this “matter.”

I sometime wondered what reasons I had, wondered why G was so prominent, and how I’d come to this. The lowest of the middle lows, the basement of mediocrity, the lower middle class. I thought wondering might bring clarity, but I see now, it’s clear now, that it didn’t.

My next question is this: how far can I go; how far can this go? The inevitable conclusion remains a looming stone. I would say teetering, but I won’t. Boulder? Cacophony? Please. Spare me, spear me, spar with me. I almost lost it there, you see. I could tell.

Harold Pinter, a man, met once, well met, and considered. I looked out across, reaching leg for open space, stretching my legs for freedom.

I’m not sure about this anymore.

blood and soil
earthen toned
down repair
consider a path taken
worked and clenched
moist man
smell
odor of earth
ejaculation bringing
release
comfort
sorrow
question not this
instance friendship fades
take not away
these deep lines
lay back and consider
some patterned success story
not this
grasp for nothing
in this
slips through
hours
more control
long curling lengths
give not a memory
cut this leave nothing
becomes less
as still this day.

03.23.06

underhanded
compiled
resented
complicated
grounded
judge a book
grasping at straws
adequate depiction
events left
find an end to this
write an end
bring this down
to a level
left unsaid
spoken
rehearsed
practiced
until perfect
rolling of fingertips
the sweet resolution of it all
look back upon
a meandering swath
cut against a wall
complicate things
imagine things
wonder about this
in particular
keep me at bay
after
sense me
across time space
always wonder.

I've never quite figured this out, as i've said before. I find it difficult to dedicate the time required. I find it difficult. It's easy to say it, easy to think about it, easy to decide in some instant to change it. Doing it is a pain in the ass... not like some people who sit and churn out pages upon pages on a whim... people who like it...

Maybe I like the idea of it?

Maybe I like the thought of it?
The romance of it...
probably the closest i've come to figuring it out.

why the fear?
fear is the mind-killer i proclaim where i can... why not make this available?
i don't know...

maybe it's time to change that...

tried and failed
tried and died

come concern
some unkown
worry about less
than worried about
chasm of space
multiplies falling towards
nothing
imagine the discovery
of nothing
the confirmation
of nothing
the abyss doesn't stare back
focus on something far away
focus on me
remember me
look to me
ask me
wonder about me
realize
nothing
the mystery we so desire
empty
without meaning
try to bare your soul
it's right here
there's nothing more
don't be afraid to smile
laugh
screw them
and leave nothing.

01.10.06

I still really am not sure how to go about this correctly. I don't have a plan...I don't have what you might call... desire... at any real level...

apparently depression runs in the family... first i've heard of it...
apparently i've always been "emotional"...
wonderful...

in a world seemingly dominated by depressed, confused, lackluster, mysterious, wannabe writers... i'm just another brick in the wall...

i suppose at this point i should say i see myself in what i choose to read... that darkness breeds
darkness... or something...

if i change the frame of reference... you see...

choose to live positively... choose to change what you can and accept what you can't...
choose a life lived... with choices... even if they're wrong, the choice was still made, and that in
and of itself is what's important...

so to start over...just fuckin' fire away man... not even thinking about it already produced results...
it's contemplation that really causes problems for me...
plans within plans turns into crap...
rather...
damn... i just lost it... i had it... and i lost it...

well...
there's always next time...

every year festivus comes around, and i really want to make an effort to "connect" with my father, but it seems to elude me every time. i'm not really sure where to start, because although i feel like there's been a disconnect at some point, i don't really know what it involves, or what started it, or how to end it. part of me just thinks talking is the best thing; the every day kind of stuff i'm not very good at with anyone it seems like... a much better listener than a talker... so i've come to think anyway...
i hate to think of myself in the role of estranged son, it seems lame... why so much sameness; it seems the thread of humanity runs throughout... i really have no idea what that means... repitition is great, in music, not so sure about it in writing, but why the hell not?
it seems some thread connects all of us, some shared experience... why else?
i have this tatoo, and i'm embarassed to admit that i'm embarassed to admit to my family what it means, because they'll look at me and say "where the fuck have you been that last 12 years? connect? christ man, you've barely said 5 words to us... we see you all the time, and you don't open your mouth..."
why the struggle to make the most important to us understand just that?...

tired...

my eyes droop, oh... how they droop.

wondered on comedy
plurality
incomprehension
duplicity
an average man
such an admission
a man
understanding hits hard
being something beyond
self
creating something for a community
even this
qualifies
as a man i take this
leave it
hope it
sees some light of day
never again
i will always wail
thoughts of structure bring me down
i long for more than mysterious
known
laid out
content in this
i strive to be.

i'm realizing how common these themes are...

time to try something different...

just not sure what...


-Rob

old friendly

i've tried several different things...
recreate past events
situations
I remember a change
so sudden then
lasting
wilted in some warm wind
i shake me head
sitting here with thoughts
rubbing keys feeling such surface
contemplate outside
affects
her face escapes me
short meetings
converstations seeming
awkward gestures
I shake my head
with knowledge of this
things change
knowing it's meant
changes intent
something's been lost since then
something's been lost since then
what used to come freely
must be coaxed

killed who? with the what now?

"things fall apart, the center cannot hold..."

every once in awhile, you get that glimmer of passion in your soul.
you feel strongly about something...
i feel strongly about something, something missing for so long.

I wonder what depth lies below me?
what heights i once reached?
where did it go; what has slowly pulled this from me?

what causes me to think, ponder, and question things i once dismissed as nothing?
how can a life bank so far? slowly pulling down.
what brings this to the fore? what force...

i look back on this and shake my head, this prophecy fulfilled in every way.
tapping these keys places a man's life in your hands.
you think you know me through these lines, these paltry lines.

fuck you.

wondering...

what fucking
things placed about
strewn in some
fashion
orderly displaced
agravation
quit looking around
shaking your head
wondering on
things transmissions
from here
to there
look place this somewhere
save it
savour it
don't give it up
come back again and look upon
creation
laugh it's
nothing
like no other
like nothing left
and still life
does not forget
nothing done
ventured
risked
no reward
place this inside
remember love
only connect.

sure....

maudlin...
regret...
doubt...
failure...

more of the same...

Hey now...

Relocation...
altercation...
ministration...

whatever floats...

I'll keep this short and sweet... one of the saddest things in life is lacking the energy and motivation to do the things you want to do; to do the things that bring you pleasure, fulfillment, happiness, and freedom of thought...
sad indeed...

until next time...

-Rob

Time for more of the same...

more crap from every angle, the everyday question...
mystery, underground, unrelenting desire, facist neo-pig fuck sackery...
ah, the wonderful dynamic world of the english language, it is what you want it to be... as long as one other person is with you on it.

same gutteral wrenching painful extraction of "feelings" plagues us all. the supposed release, the unanticipated deluge from within...

bullshit...

-Rob

move...?

indeed...

intermittent has become even more so with geographical and occupational changes...

fun times indeed...

oh, the levels.