Random Writings

August 11, 2004

I got bored last night and wrote a random essay-ish thing. Thought I’d post it.

People talk about “the one” that is out there waiting for them. What do they mean by that? That there’s only one person in the world that compliments a person’s traits to the point of being a perfect match? But what if you piss that person off beyond recovery? Are you destined to live without your perfect match for the rest of your life? Will that make you unhappy?

What If I miss my “one” somehow? What if I find them and for some reason I’m not their “one?” Shouldn’t there be more than one person out there for the relationship inept like me? Think about it, there are millions of people in the US alone, wouldn’t the odds be in your favor of having more than one match?

I hope there’s not just one. Knowing my wierdness I’d end up fucking up somehow. I think I’ll go with the more than one philosophy. I couldn’t live knowing I missed out on my one true love. I just couldn’t.

So yea. There’s that. And I wrote a crappy poem a while ago but never posted it like I had planned.

Falling for You

Something nags at the back of my mind.

Tripping over something
That I saw coming
Miles away,
Yet I am caught totally off guard.
Shock, pleasant at that,
At discovering what this obstruction is.

Something nags at the back of my mind.

Something that completes me,
Compliments the half-person that I am now
And makes me whole.

I’m falling.
Gravity takes effect after my moment of bliss,
But seeing the ground come toward me
Faster than I thought
Worries me.

The nagging is a memory, of this scenario played out before.
I fall and land.
I am broken.

I’m falling for you this time.
Will your embrace be there to catch me?
Or will my already scarred knees be torn
Once again?

The nagging memory,
Of lying broken
On the floor
Is made real

Anyway, ya depressing.


In the mystical moist night air, and from time to time,
I look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
Reaching this spot picked out
By your hands,
And covered by your blankets,
I recline with you.
Amid this perfectly clear night,
Devoid of clouds,
We lay together,
And talk of things inconsequential to all but us.
Your face, perfection.
Your lips, perfection.
Your voice, perfection.
Your body, perfection.
Every inch of you meant for me,
As I am for you.
And in this night we kiss,
Two becoming one
For a fleeting instant,
And we both learn,
How perfect a single kiss may be.

(I’ve never written a love poem before, I guess it turned out ok. Its one of those that i slip out of my own perspective and write like I’m someone else, so its not exactly about anyone specific. But i can think of someone who fits the “perfection” descriptions =D)


January 26, 2004

Yes 3rd post. This is a poem. Emotionally draining, I feel better now.

I am a clipped labyrinth,
A deep, secluded hedge maze,
In the forest of my heart.
I can’t solve myself.
I walk,
I creep,
I crawl,
I flee in abject confusion.
My paths,
My passages,
I can’t remember where I am,
Who I am.
I know that if I can only get,
To the exit,
This will be ended.
But I move,
Spinning, spinning, spinning,
This phantasmagoria makes me sick.
I am dizzy.
I vomit my insides with hatred and loathing,
Of this maze.
My tears wash away the grime,
Yet replace it with emptiness.
My mournful scream rends the freezing air,
And my sight cannot see past the starless night.
Agonizingly numb, I resume my inner trudge,
My shield of my other self,
My twin real me,
Shielding my maze,
From eyes that wish to solve it.