Still Beautiful

She's been here before
You can tell by the weary glint of her eyes
The look of one well travelled, worn down and experienced
Her cigarette glows in the murk, casting shadows on her aristocratic cheekbones
Showing the grace she fell from into squalor
Still she retains an air of dignity, her perfume is still expensive, refined

Heh, I love how the first two topics on the forum list right now are 'Buddhism' and 'PORN!'.

Now, on to other things. Last night I had a dream. It went something like this.

Brain mush!

So, our school's spring show this year was Annie. Ick. But I was going to explode if I went through the season theatreless, so I did it. I was Mrs. Pugh, the housekeeper. Fun. I wore a hilarious wig.

Be warned: This entry will be filled with me venting my frustrations at the world and other things, as well as other angst.

...

April fools!

Hah. I love this holiday. Although I still haven't done anything to my brother. I better get on that.

This was written after/during a bout of severe depression and bitterness. You were warned.

Benediction

Stories like mine do not get told
Boys like me do not grow old
Pain like mine is never seen
In novel, song or silver screen
Amen
Say it again
Amen

Chains like mine must go unbroken
Words like mine must go unspoken
No heart like mine should e'er be filled

Hello,

This weekend our debate team had the first tournament, which was awesome. My team won half our rounds, which was cool. We got better as the day wore on, so the last one (which was on the death penalty) we completely wiped the floor with the other team. Go us.

The Slow Poisoner has a new album!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yay!!!!!!!!! He's a local musician, one of my dad's friends, and also one of the coolest guys in the world. Like, ever. And he has a new album! Which I am now listening to.

http://theslowpoisoner.com/

This is an experiment in writing out everything not negative that runs through my head in the form of a sentence beginning with 'I am'

I am approximately five feet and four inches tall.
I am an actor.
I am a sensitive young man.
I am a decent friend.
I am a passionate, if bashful, lover.
I am a Scissor Sisters fan.
I am a brunette.
I am a little boy.
I am an excellent German student.

So, this weekend I went through some pretty heavy stuff with my dad. It started because I mentioned that I didn't want to be seeing the school counselor anymore, and I wanted him behind me in that decision. The conversation progressed to whether or not I should be in therapy, and my current mental state.

This is an experiment in the portrayal of identity and mental concepts. It also makes me sound like I have multiple personality disorder, but oh well.

Mildly Attractive Waitresses

I wish I could say I'm a stranger myself here
Get some coffee, talk to the waitress
Who looks tired, young and pretty but with a little bit of bitterness behind her smile
Which she turns on me, saying

You know those days where a bunch of little things add up to one of those days where you get home and just want to pass out until tomorrow? Today was one of those days. Therefore, I shall now proceed to bitch about it, mostly to make myself feel better.

The Bones Beneath Your Skin

Others have gazed at your stormy eyes
In anger, madness, even love
Before me, but none of them have seen
The deep and tender fear behind those eyes
The fear I saw when you looked at me,
Your hands tracing the contours of my throat
And I feel it too, an uncertain falter in the caresses of my hands
It is not each other we fear

Okay, this just bothers me:

The product of too little sleep and too much coffee.

Spider

The soul of a spider whispered in my ear
A creeping soul, a weeping soul
A soul so small I could hardly hear

This little soul spoke lyrical words
Some singing words, some ringing words
Some words of flight and some of birds

A little spider crept through my head
A humbled soul, a crumbled soul
It whispered to me I was dead