Who Cares If No One Else Believes

Sometimes I want to tear my hair out because there’s an idea I want to express, but I don’t know what it is exactly. It sticks with me and drives me to madness.

• 13 Apr 2012

Thine Worst Enemy

Torn, bewildered as to how I arrived 

By the seat, no less, yet 

my legs are covered still 

and as my arse still covered, 

I did not arrive by the seat - 

I suppose I failed even that... 

I failed that even - even though, 

by my rights, I would swear that I tried, 

I gave and gave until I gave; 

I was tried and to no avail. 

Yet it seems - 

no, it appears - 

no, it would seem, yes, 

that my father and teachers, 

my mother and her cohorts - 

the rational, the usual suspects - 

are wrong. 

However, I must take part of the blame, 

and not just party to the blaming. 

What I have wrought, 

along with the wretch, the rod, 

is mine to keep in my keep, 

and as such there is no one to brand but myself, 

I am my own traitor, 

peering into a pool, a mirror, 

I am thine worst enemy. 

• 13 Apr 2012

Reddit Verification

Ayo, treewriting! Seraphisia here. :l

• 5 Apr 2012

Thoughts

I want to say something that comes to mind but touches no tongue of mine. I want to say it, brazenly, and without fear that those who may read what I say will judge a boy’s feelings false.

I am weary of my existence. I cannot lay to rest this restlessness that clings to my lashes. I am disappointed in what I have seen, and what I have seen suspends like silt. My friends speak of smoking, drinking, and sex and I know not where they draw this knowledge from. It is obvious to me that they lie, yet I must remain with those who grasp with tongues of silver. The women I have come to know now appear duplicates of each other; in sight; in spoken word; in intention. I do not wish to err. It is obvious to me that they also lie, yet I must remain with those who grasp with fingers of gold. My elders demonstrate remarkable traits for those supposedly wise with age. They are petty, vicious, and unaware of their selves. Each day they spend waking is a day of attrition. They seek to imbue my mind and my skin with what they like, they seek to strangle what I love. It is obvious to me that they also lie, yet I must remain with those who grasp.

I have lost faith in what lies ahead.

I have no wish to remain, but I have no reason to leave.

I submit myself.

• 12 Dec 2011
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