V.iii: The Death and the Birth

R.I.P. The Death and the Birth

2010-03-23T09:29:00.000-07:00

I will no longer use this blog. :(

SSF

To read my posts, follow my Tumblr:

[link]

Please.

2010-03-18T12:50:00.001-07:00

Kill me.

Bulimia Nervosa

2010-03-15T21:21:00.000-07:00

One by one, your limbs are separated
As I enter, tape is blocking your screams
You bleed and cringe, but it only feeds me
I slip out, bend, and lick it up

Spit it back in your face

Your vision fades, and I begin
Devouring bone, flesh, and skin

Your eyelids draw closed, and I begin
Vomiting onto what I dined upon

I Am Hungry

2010-03-15T10:28:00.000-07:00

My stomach acid eats away at my innards
Decaying the lining of my organs
I must feed. This must end.

It began soft, chewing on the walls of my mouth
Saliva flowing and seeping through my lips
As I swallowed small white chunks of skin
But I wasn't satisfied, so...

I began to eat myself.

All the Body Parts of Women

2010-03-15T09:53:00.000-07:00

These things sound good to me
All the body parts of women
Cut, rip, mutilate your flesh
Ravage your body, bury you six feet deep

My heart, it beats
To the rhythm of yours
To the rhythm of necrophilia
In and out, my blade is a tool of your demise

Cry your eyes out
You can't fucking see
Cry your eyes out
I won't let you fucking breathe

Repentance.

2010-03-11T09:45:00.000-08:00

"I do not regret the things I have done/
But the things I did not do."

I wonder how you feel now, what you are thinking.
Now that you sit in this hole. Forever.
But you know that everything goes on.
You have learned many lessons, but you are still daft.

I have learned your lessons, but I do not want to believe them.
Not believing in them, I have not learned their true definition.
One day I will come to realize them.
And on that day, I may be happy.

It appears that simple, but 'tis not.
For one cannot force their beliefs.
They must come or they are not true.
I pray for thee to come. I fucking pray.

My mind says,
"You're a motherfucking piece of shit,
and you'll never amount to nothing."
But my hearts just says, "No."

For now you sit in your hole.
And I sit in mine.
Separated.

Pah nun...

2010-03-09T21:05:00.000-08:00

Here lies everything I once believed in.
Here lies everything that is now dead to me.

It is now recognized.
You cannot say that I do not exist.

Rest in peace...

2010-03-07T11:14:00.000-08:00

"tomorrow

wake up earlier

and go outside

before everyone is awake

and really listen to how peaceful it is

you can appreciate nature before we as humans take some of that beauty away when we get up

drive our cars

litter

crowd

input noise pollution."

- Kadi

... will break your heart.

2010-03-03T10:30:00.000-08:00

I don't know how to feel anymore.
I don't know what is real anymore.

I don't know what to think anymore. I don't know what to do anymore. I want to go with it, but I'm afraid of the outcome. I'm always afraid. I'm fucking tired of being afraid. I know I shouldn't be; I should just put the past behind me; the same goes for the future, but for some reason I can never bring myself to do that, no matter how much I tell myself I won't. Well I'm done.

Goodbye..

L.

2010-02-25T09:19:00.000-08:00

It was a Saturday. We were walking up a steep hill in Corralitos. It was then, at 12 midnight, that it hit me.

The shadows beaming off of a street light became engulfed in magnificent shades of red and blue (and possibly green, but my vision was so blurred I couldn't make it out perfectly). I turned around 180 degrees and stared down the hill I had just ventured up. The trees in the distance formed a box, making it appear to be a tunnel entrance for a train. I stared at this for approximately 10 minutes before I explained what I was seeing to one of my friends. Though it was most definitely impossible to explain, I think I did my best.

After trekking up this mighty hill, my friend had been rendered exhausted and bored, so we decided to walk down. This simple task was more beautiful than anyone could expect. The gloomy shadows looming in the sky were coated with the same colors as the street light, red, blue, and a mixture of other shades. The trees were brighter and greener than they should have been in reality. There was a fat grin on my face; I was so oblivious I was happy.

At the bottom of the hill, we returned to my friend's front yard surrounded by trees and shrubs, as well as house lights. We stopped to stand under a wonderfully tall tree. I was uncertain of the species unfortunately. Some of its limbs stuck out longer than 12 feet, and they were naked and spiky. Rough. But the skin on my hands did not mind at all.

The other person I was with was fixated on these branches. One she clung onto like a sloth and marveled at its construction.

It's like a hook you guys!

My friend and I just let her be. We had no comment. As we stood under the tree conversing, our friend stayed attached to the tree she was obviously in love with. I do not remember our conversations, but I'm sure they were not of the utmost importance. Every once in awhile, our friend would stop to say something like,

When I talk, it feels like colors are flowing out of my mouth!

Again, we ignored her.

I'm being modest when I say that we, excluding myself, were all out of control. With high pitched, high volume voices, I suggested we go back inside the house so as not to disrupt everyone in the fucking neighborhood. My friends agreed, so we left our tree and ventured back into the house.

What a good fucking night.

Alone.

2010-02-23T09:36:00.000-08:00

Karl is 16. He lives in a world with billions of copies of himself. He is all around himself. Every single duplicate is exactly like him. They are polite but still know how to have a good time. They have compassion; they have empathy. They look exactly like Karl. They think the same thoughts.

Karl likes this because he likes himself. Surrounded by people exactly like him makes him happy. He is happy.

Having lived 16 years surrounded by himself, Karl is satisfied. He enjoys conversing with people who have the same opinions as him. They never argue, and thus, always get along. No one is ever upset with another human being. This is perfection. The world is perfect, and everyone residing on it is perfect. Karl is happy.

-

Karl is now 25. He still lives in a world with billions of copies of himself. He is still all around himself, only this time, he is no longer happy. His thoughts have changed direction. He used to be positive and optimistic. He couldn't think of any reasons why living with people exactly like himself was bad. Now, everything he sees disgusts him. Instead of seeing someone he can get along with, he sees nothing. Blankness. White. Karl no longer talks with a friend; he talks with himself. Karl hates talking to himself. He is no longer satisfied. He is no longer happy. He is depressed. He is melancholy.

Karl is all alone.

Death is fine. Gimme mine.

2010-02-22T10:12:00.000-08:00

Due to my new influence of Grind/Death/Pornocore, I have started a new musical project, Psychedelicatessen. It's a combination of Grindcore, Deathcore, and Thrash. Members are me on drums, Aramis and Jackson on vox, Evan on guitar, and Josh on bass.

Our first two songs, titled "Gutless" and "Baby Fuck (It's Awwwright)", were recorded and mixed yesterday. They are up on our MySpace for everyone to hear:
myspace.com/psychedelicatessenband

Have fun.

Perfect?

2010-02-18T09:27:00.000-08:00

Everything about you is perfect. Your teeth are beautiful. Your eyes shimmer and shine. Your hair is thin and silky. Your lips are tender. Your physique is the most perfect one I have seen. Your hips, your stomach, your chest. Perfect. And I would give anything to have you back.

But then you made me realize you are not perfect at all. You broke my heart, tore it in two. This could have worked. I could have been happy. Maybe you could have been happy. But over the phone?

I used to think you were perfect. I saw perfection in you. You gave me hope that there was at least one perfect person in this world.

You let me down.

Neither/Nor/Mirrored Grave

2010-02-18T09:19:00.000-08:00

We could say all the rest is one.
The steel is cold in the lighting of the sun.
The birds would sing lest they had a voice.
And all is lost through the silence of the noise.

You're lying on your death bed,
With a needle in your arm.
Wonder how it feels.

I'd love to be in your place,
But I know you'd tell me otherwise.
Cause you know it's real.

I could see your face against the wall.
Your tears all streaking from the lightning down the hall.
But when you're older and plant life thrives on Mars.
You'll learn your lesson from the beatings and the scars.

Say goodbye to all your children,
And hello to that ribbon in your heart,
That slowly sears away.

I know it wasn't your fault,
And it's a shame no one's there for them.
It really breaks my heart.

-

I got a knife for your serpentine tongue.
I got some salt for the weeping in your lungs.
Say a prayer but God won't save you now.
The vultures eat your flesh in this dry town.

Update/The Man on the Bus v1.2

2010-02-17T09:31:00.000-08:00

I have not been posting much lately. This is quite obvious. I have just had nothing to write about. There is a new song I wrote which I will post the lyrics to possibly tonight if I can remember. Anyway, I'll be recording it soon and uploading it to my band's MySpace, so you can listen to us there @: myspace.com/magiainfinita

I've been listening to a lot of Grind and Death recently. Some bands I recommend:

- Napalm Death (old)
- Regurgitate
- Blood Duster (old)
- Nasum
- Pig Destroyer
- Stargazer
- Portal

The Man on the Bus v1.2

:

There has been no new news from the man on the bus; it's still the same old same old. He performs his odd quirks, gets off at his stop, collects his pebble, and walks away. Though there is one new thing I have noticed. The other day, he did not take a pebble from Mother Nature. He just walked away from his stop. I am still wondering why he did this.

Cigegrets.

2010-02-04T10:39:00.000-08:00

What I have been noticing is that every smoker has their own style of smoking. I never saw this before. I would see someone smoking (not phased), but I would never pay attention to particular details. Then again, I never paid attention to many details at all (Day 1-4).

The Hold:

: Between the index and middle finger
: Between the thumb and index finger (joint)
: Suspended simply in the mouth
: Between the middle and ring finger (the strangest to me)

The Exhale:

: Neck jetted forward (exhale)
: Mouth slightly open (milk)
: Lips pressed, letting a thin, gentle stream of smoke escape the mouth
: etc.etc.etc.etc.etc...

I'm not afraid to die.

Sloww.

2010-02-04T10:32:00.000-08:00

Two days ago, I was waiting for a friend at a pizzeria far from where I live, and I noticed three people: an old woman, an old man (most likely coupled with the old woman), and a younger yet not young woman probably in her 40's walking on the street. The younger woman was holding arms with the old man (her dad?), and all three of them were walking side by side at the same pace. They must have been doing at least .2 mph, and I honestly have no idea why they didn't get pulled over*.

The reason I decided to write about this is because it was one of the cutest things I have noticed in awhile. The younger woman was walking with both the old man and woman at the same pace as them, and she was not annoyed one bit. She enjoyed walking her old parents, and she was not bothered by their slow pace. I think that is genuine love.

* That was a joke.

Jesus Fucking Christ/Sleepless Nights

2010-02-04T10:22:00.000-08:00

We don't breathe

through dust.

The breath

breathes us.

We destroy

what we create.

From the start,

you bred my hate.

I hate

my life.

And I hope

you fucking hate yours.

Death

is all around us.

And Sathan's

keeping score.

The ring

around my finger.

Represents

the noose around my neck.

Tight tied

with lengths of hope.

This is

the fucking end

OF

ME

AND

FUCKING

YOU.

Rain. Sun. Gone.

2010-01-28T14:24:00.000-08:00

Lately it has been raining. These past couple days (yesterday, today) it has been sunny and warm, but prior to this weather change, it has been raining. Everyone complains. They all say, "I don't like the rain. I'm sad. I want it to be warm and sunnyblahblahblahblahBLAH!" Buncha baby-back bitches. I personally love the rain. I love the way it adds a layer of dampness to everything it touches. I love the way the rain clouds block the sun, creating a gloomy, depressing setting. I love the way the ground shines when it's wet. I love the ripples in small puddles created by the rain. And most of all, I love the sound of the dripping rain from the treetops after it has ceased.

I fucking love the rain.

The man on the bus.

2010-01-27T16:21:00.000-08:00

Like the majority of my peers, I take the bus to school. We all ride the 8:22 71 from Cabrillo into Santa Cruz, and every day I take this bus (Monday-Friday) there is an obviously mentally disabled citizen on said bus. He is short, not fit (but not overweight), obsessive, and compulsive. He has a few quirks I have caught onto. One of these interesting acts include the tugging of his ear (very violently, I might add) while yelling gibberish at thin air. Sometimes I would like to believe that these words can be found in the English dictionary, but I have yet to translate them.

Another thing about him I have noticed is that he stares at females. At first, I was trying not to judge him too harshly as a pervert, but I began to easily notice that every time he stares, he stares at women. The other times he's looking is when he's frantically looking around, which brings me to his second quirk:

Often after tugging his ears and shouting at an obnoxious level, he will unlatch the grip from his ears and swiftly turn his head from one side to the other. There is not much I can say about this.

Every day he rides the bus, he gets off at the same stop (Soquel and 41st), and he walks right a few paces to the lot of a Smog Station. He bends over the pebble paved ground and picks up a single pebble, every time. He just stares at it, and before he is done inspecting this pebble, my bus continues forward, so I am sadly not able to see what his next moves are or where he goes for that matter. One day I will take this bus for the sole purpose of finding out what this man does. I will get off at his stop and figure it out from there. I am not a stalker.

Something I found interesting yesterday while I was watching this man on the bus was that he was drawing something on the window. It was raining, so it allowed him to do this with ease. When he got off at his stop, unblocking the area of window he was drawing on, I saw a frowning face with fat, beady eyes and a thick frown. As the bus driver began to hit the gas, rain drops slid down from the eyes of this sad face, making it appear like it was crying. It made me think Maybe this man is depressed, and that saddened me.

More on this exciting story sometime in the near future.

2010-01-22T19:19:00.001-08:00

I can feel it in my veins. My love for you. My hatred. My death. We destroy.

2010-01-21T09:49:00.001-08:00

ONLY ONE OF US WALKS AWAY.

666 Days/My Heart Burns

2010-01-20T17:24:00.000-08:00

My heart melts every time I see your face,
Every time I see your face,
When I'm with you.

And my heart burns every time I see you smile,
But I know that it's worth while,
To be with you.

I shed my tears every time I hear you laugh,
It always brings me back,
Back to you.

And I shed my love whenever you're awake,
And I hope for Heaven's sake,
That I'll pull through.

-

My heart melts every time I see your face,
Your eyes all full of grace,
When I'm with you.

And my heart burns every time I see you smile,
But I know that it's worth while,
To be with you.

Slow and Slow Again/Rain On a Tuesday

2010-01-20T17:18:00.000-08:00

I'm just waiting for that touch,
For that feeling you used to give me,
When we were young,
And everything was easy.

I'd give you all my heart,
Just to have that back.
I'm waiting for you to send me.
I've sent you already.

Do you ever realize what I do for you?
Do you ever realize that this sky is blue?
Even when it's raining, it's raining for you.
And I hope, when the time is right, this will all be through.

We can be happy, that is all I wish.
I've been down so long I can hardly make a fist.
When I get my grip back I'll hold on to you tight.
And then we will be close, and I'll regain my sight.

I'm just waiting for that touch,
For that feeling you once gave me,
When we were young,
And everything was easy.

I'd give you all my heart,
Just to have that back.
You're waiting for me to send you.
I've sent you already.

Do you ever realize what I do for you?
Did you ever realize this sky was blue?
Even when it's raining, it's raining for you.
And I know, when the time is right, you'll be happy too.

Run, Mary/Residence 401

2010-01-16T22:11:00.000-08:00

Run, Mary, no one wants you alive.
They all want you to die.
Won't you go home?
Where you belong.

Run, Mary, can't you see you aren't wanted?
They all say your house is haunted.
Disappear.
Like a ghost.

-

Run, Mary, from this lonely life your living.
From the pain that ain't forgiving.
Like the knife.
Deep in your heart.

Run, Mary, can't you hear the angels calling?
Can't you feel the snow is falling?
Fly away.
Now you are home.

-

Run, Mary, down the hole that you were sprung in.
Down the hole we used to run in.
Where you cried.
When we were young.

Run, Mary, up the ladder you were given.
Up the ladder that you lived in.
Before you died.
Now you are home.

Monkey.

2010-01-15T10:44:00.001-08:00

------m-------m------
| |(o o)| |
||(~)||

Happy Friday, everybody.

2010-01-15T08:54:00.001-08:00

"It's getting hard to keep pretending I'm worth your time."

Lovely Bones.

2010-01-15T00:41:00.000-08:00

You would think the princess of everything would at least use 4 ply, but no. She uses single ply toilet paper with a newspaper texture that burns your ass while you wipe. We all wonder why this is so. I know I wonder.

But whatever. Fuck the princess of everything. All that matters is you.

You never know what you have until it's gone.

2010-01-13T22:16:00.001-08:00

I miss the way things used to be. When you used to be all sweet, and I was happy. Where the fuck did that go? Why did it change? I just want to be happy again.

2010-01-13T17:09:00.001-08:00

Ever notice people biking on the sidewalk? What the fuck is up with that? The sidewalk is for walking, and there's a bike lane for a reason. God damn.

Crows Crowing.

2010-01-12T20:17:00.000-08:00

I miss the way things used to be. You know when nothing came with pressure attached? When you're friends, there's no stress. There's no pressure. It's just life, plain and simple, the way it was supposed to be.

But in relationships it's different. And it doesn't even have to be different. So why is it? Because our society says so? Fuck that. I mean, I don't label myself a nonconformist or anything fucking stupid like that, but come on, relationships are the same thing as friendships with the exception that you can be 'in love' and you can be sexual. It doesn't have to be different. That only complicates things. That's what makes kids think relationships are pointless and stressful.

If only we didn't listen. If only we did things our way. Then I could be happy, but I will only be let down. Every day of my fucking life. You could fix this, but you don't. You complain about other people's lack of compassion when in reality you have none, and you can't even see it.

Oh well.
The crows will keep on crowing.
The birds will keep on chirping.
The snakes will keep on rattling.
And the deer will keep on walking.
But I am done. I give up. You win.

Woe is me; I'm having problems.

2010-01-11T15:20:00.001-08:00

As previously stated (Jesus, I need to stop repeating myself), I am having problems. Within these past two months (November, December), two of my good friends have passed away. One to suicide, the other drug abuse.

This has not only sent my life into a spiraling depression, thought I was already there, it has taught me a couple things. Both of the two things are very obvious, and it's easy to see anyone would learn this from these events, but they are:

1. I will never abuse drugs. After seeing what my friend Jacob had been doing (experimental with multiple illegal drugs), I intend to stay away from drugs completely. I have been doing that already though. I just know now that I will not in the future.

2. Suicide is completely and utterly selfish. I understand that those who commit suicide have their reasons, and I know for a fact my friend did, but it hurts everyone around them incredibly. I know I am hurt, and his family must bear my pain tenfold. I'm sure they take in consideration that it will hurt their friends and family, so why then do they kill themselves? Maybe it's because they know it's in their best interest, and we will just get over it in time (which I believe is true). Maybe it's because we will know he is in a better place, no longer suffering.

Either way, I am hurt. I am depressed. I am done.

2010-01-10T22:12:00.000-08:00

If God exists, cats were his greatest creation. Capable of love, compassion, loyalty, and hate, they are what humans would be if they were cute and unable to talk.

I have two cats, brother and sister; their names are Gish and Luna. Gish after the Smashing Pumpkins' debut album, and Luna after the track 'Luna' off of the Smashing Pumpkins' album 'Siamese Dream'. This may lead you to think that the Smashing Pumpkins are my favorite band or something, but that is not so. I just happened to dig both the words 'Gish' and 'Luna' which were both coincidentally related to the Smashing Pumpkins.

Under my post 'Happy?' is a picture of my male cat, Gish.

Back on topic, cats are the best animals ever. I have heard the term 'Dogs are man's best friend', and I completely disagree because big dogs may be cute at times, but they are too big to be as cute as a cat, and small dogs are just fucking ugly.

In short, cats are perfect because no matter what size, they are never too big. There is no such thing as an ugly fat cat. In fact, fat cats are even more cute than normal sized ones (depending on their quirks, that is).

Cat lovers, rejoice.

As Above/So Below

2010-01-08T15:22:00.000-08:00

They don't want you, and they don't care.
Just a group of compassionless clouds.
And all they see is a cold, blank stare.
Waiting for you to come around.
But nobody loves them like we love you.
Won't you belong right here with us?
Stay where you're welcome. We know you're true.
Cause all that we want is you.

And they don't know you like we do.
They cast you out and call you names.
And they don't love you like we do.
And to me that's a poor, poor shame.

If I were to see you one last time,
My heart would melt in a pile of joy.
And would you excuse me if I cried?
Cause in awhile I think I might.
And at this point I know it's hard,
But would it kill you to try and escape?
When I look up at the stars,
I scream to the clouds for what they've done.

Happy?

2010-01-03T23:01:00.000-08:00

I am having happiness issues. By this I mean I am not happy. You could say my depression is caused by the lack of seratonin in my brain, but I would like to believe it is being cause by a series of events. Towards the end of November around Thanksgiving (in fact, while I was on Thanksgiving break in Santa Barbara), I received an email from my old Elementary School friend's mom dated early August 2006 that stated that my friend had killed himself due to his current living situation. He was poor, his dad ran away, and he was very depressed. This was definitely the beginning of my depression.

It got me to thinking about suicide and how selfish it is. Do they realize how much they are hurting their friends? Their family members? Do they even take it into consideration? As suicidal as I am in my current state of passive suicidal ideation, I do not even consider suicide because I know how much it would effect those around me. I am compassionate.

And as if my old friend's suicide wasn't enough to send my life into a spiral of depression, more events arise. Due to the most certain lack of seratonin in my brain, I know these 'events' are just bull shit. I am only depressed for depression's sake, and I hate it. There is no reason for me to be depressed anymore. I just simply am.

I have this theory that things will get better.
We both have low levels of seratonin.
But baby, our oxytocin is high.
And when we overcome this depression.
We will be happy. Together.

Happy fucking New Year.

2009-12-31T11:48:00.000-08:00

The New Year represents nothing to me. I do not celebrate it. I do not believe it has any significance. But I suppose I do enjoy it.

I haven't posted much in a few days due to being slightly happy. I have not run out of thoughts or ideas (in fact, I have a few ideas written down, waiting to be finished), but I can't seem to write about them when I am happy. They are generally depressing thoughts and cannot be completed unless I am depressed, which I usually am.

But be patient Anyone Who Follows My Blog. Posts will be up soon.

Observance.

2009-12-26T21:07:00.000-08:00

Lately I have been taking to observing my surroundings. I generally tend to look around a lot, but I am always looking through objects, never at them. Never thinking about them. I do this because I am sad. I can no longer see the beauty in the small things that matter. All I see is sadness. Darkness. Emptiness. This brought me to begin actually observing my surroundings and not just looking through them.

Day 1:
This will take some getting used to. I am in the pattern of looking through things and when I do this my thoughts just drift. I don't come back to reality for awhile, and when I do, I realize I have only been looking through things. Eventually I will get in the habit of paying attention. Thinking about what is physically in front of and around me. God help me...

Day 2:
Things are still tough. I am sort of in between dimensions now. Every once in awhile I will look through some things, and other times I will begin to observe them for what they really are. I suppose you could call this a step towards success though I am not liking what I see.

Day 3:
I am seeing a pattern here. As days go by, I am slowly beginning to toss out my old habit of seeing through objects and picking up a new habit of studying them. So far my hypothesis proves correct. As I begin to study my surroundings a bit more, I am disgusted. I see tobacco smoke floating into the air. Graceful as it may be, it is blackening your lungs, it is blackening your children's lungs, it is blackening your beautiful planet's surface. You can see your cancer growing bigger and bigger inside of you. You are not phased. I am. I now see the truth. I can see the lack of compassion in humans. Humans now disgust me. I do not want to be around any of them. They are selfish, greedy, and unforgiving. I want to cut myself loose from this society. I think at this point I would rather be alone than have to submit myself to be around these depressing human beings forever.

Day 4:
What have I done to myself? Before I was only sad, but I could manage. At least for the time being. At the rate of which my happiness was dropping, I would soon go insane. But now I am sick. I am isolated. I am far more depressed than I previously was. I say mission failure. I want to go back. I don't want to see through these eyes anymore. I must begin my transformation back to my old habit. I want to look through things again. I want to be oblivious. I want to be weightless.

Take this weight off my shoulders.

Life, death, and life after death.

2009-12-26T13:09:00.000-08:00

Life:
All I know is that I know nothing. We serve no purpose but to entertain ourselves. I believe I have found the meaning of life, and that is to solely find what makes us as individuals happy. We live for the things that make us want to live. But what if we can't find something to live for? That question is all around me. I have nothing to live for. Nothing makes me happy anymore. I am constantly depressed and nothing can bring me up. There used to be things I could resort to in times of sadness, but those things no longer exist. They exist, but they no longer make me happy. If I do not find anything to live for soon, my life as I know it may come to an end. Which brings me to our second topic.

Death:
As previously stated, I no longer wish to live. I would be satisfied to not walk this earth any longer. In fact, I would prefer that over living. Over suffering, for that is my current state. I am fucking suffering. I have always wondered what it is like to die, ever since I was a young boy. Even when I was happy and content with my life I was fascinated by death. This fascination only gives me more motivation to not live. It's kind of a win-win situation for me: I get to die and discover what it is like to die. I love you more than death, but I need death more than you. And what will become of my corpse, my soul, when I am dead? This brings me to the third and final topic.

Life after death:
In the beginning of the year 2006, I often contemplated the thought of life after death, and I came up with many theories.
- You are dead. Your corpse is buried six feet under the ground. Maggots eat away at your decaying flesh. You have no thoughts. Your mind is blank.
- If there is Heaven or Hell after life, then it would make sense that "monsters" walked this earth. I have seen no such thing, and until I do, I will not believe in Heaven or Hell.
Those are my two basic theories, but if "anything can happen", then I guess I will just have to test that theory myself.

On an ending note:
Cry me a fucking river, bitch.

Happy fucking Christmas

2009-12-25T11:35:00.001-08:00

everybody.

Love spirals downwards.

2009-12-24T19:26:00.000-08:00

Every time I see your face, my heart melts. For better or for worse I do not know. What I do know is that my mind is its own and too intelligent for even me to understand it. I guess the mystery of my life will always be, "What the fuck am I thinking?"

Currently I am trying to decide if the sharp pain attacking my heart is due to happiness or sadness.

I believe it burns because your beauty is too powerful for any eyes. A look in any direction will send the eyes and brain spinning.

But the pain, what is this pain? Why is this pain in existence? My mind is on its own at this point. It could be because I miss you. It could be because I don't deserve you. It could be because I know how this is going to end, but whatever the cause of this pain is, it is not going away, and it will never go away. It never does.

Love will always spiral downwards.

All that's left.

2009-12-24T10:18:00.000-08:00

All that's left in my heart is anger and depression.
You lost the trust.
You lost the love.
You lost the commitment.
All because you couldn't give any back.

I tried.
I pushed.
I strived.
Only to be let down.
Only to get my face shoved in the dirt.

I promised myself this would be the last if it didn't last.
It didn't. It is.

Are you fucking happy now?

decisionsdecisionsdecisions.

2009-12-22T19:53:00.000-08:00

I need a fucking theme.
I'm running around far too much.
I will think until my decision is made final.

Lately,

2009-12-22T11:09:00.000-08:00

all I can do is relate to lyrics from my favorite songs.
And all the songs are depressing.
Does that mean I'm depressed?
Or am I just depressing?

All I know is that I don't feel too well.
:/

I am in love.

2009-12-21T11:20:00.000-08:00

What is love? Sometimes I have a hard time understanding it. A hard time finding it. A hard time feeling it. Is it simply feeling and showing affection towards someone you care for? Because that does not seem like enough.

Love is being able to connect through absolute silence.
Love is getting lost in the eyes of endearment and never wanting out.
Love is devoting yourself entirely to a singular person.
Love is passionate and rare.

Though I consider myself to know what love is, why then am I questioning it? Is it because I am uncertain I have found it? Is it because love has no definition and simply is? If that is the case, then I guess love will just have to find me.

But lo, what have I stumbled upon? In this beautiful city of Santa Cruz, California resides love in multiple places.

Have I found it? Has it found me? These are questions I ask rarely for I am a man with definition. Questions I ponder more frequently tend to be: Is it 'too soon'? Does 'too soon' even exist? Should 'too soon' stop me from proclaiming my love? Whether or not the answers to these questions are in my favor, my love will have to wait for I am a coward. Fear is holding me back from shedding my love.

If this be true or not true I do not care. I will wait, for a sacrifice shan't be made today.

I am in love.

2009-12-21T11:14:00.001-08:00

i am so afraid of losing you.

This is my dad.

2009-12-20T20:32:00.000-08:00

Perfect.

2009-12-20T11:58:00.000-08:00

He sits on the balcony of his New York apartment. As smoke whirls up into the sky, it descends down into him. Neither you nor him wants to know his name, so we will call him Untitled. He closes his eyes and visualizes his lungs growing darker and darker, as his thoughts. He is now his lungs. Inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling. A pattern without thought that comes naturally. It does not need reminding, and it does not need an alarm. His cat watches him behind floating glass, learning from the master. As the lines grow shorter, so does his patience. He watches the paper, burning white to red to black, folding back. What patience, what loyalty possesses this cat. He will wait. The last line is burnt, and the smoke comes to a halt.

Untitled opens the door into his apartment and his cat runs out just as soon as he walks in. He enters only to leave through the front door.

It is a nice summer day in the month of December, year 1994. The sun is shining and the animals ring aloud their songs of happiness. Untitled is not happy. Having shunned himself from society as his own decision, he walks slowly to the nearest park, his shoes producing depressing sighs. It is at this park he is reunited with his green, rotting bench. He takes a seat and begins to think. Interrupting his thoughts is a polite, white, fit, politically correct New York citizen who noticed him sitting by himself. He wants to join him. The stranger introduces himself as John, but our static character does not care and does not listen, in turn missing his name. He says nothing, but John is willing to make small talk with a statue. Disgusted, Untitled finally begins to retort, hoping his statements of depression and sadness will render John bored. Luckily, this is the truth and Untitled begins to make a space for depression in John's mind. He tells him of the uselessness of mankind, of the multiple reasons there are not to live, and why there is nothing to live for. Now both Untitled and John sit on this rotting bench, watching with a disgusted face as time passes by. Untitled, having spread his depression, is satisfied. He stands up and begins to walk away. John calls out to him, asks him where he's going, what is to happen with their relationship. Untitled simply replies, "This is what is going to happen. I will walk away, never to see you again, and you will continue to live your life, without me, but with the lessons I have taught you, and if you have learned correctly, you will kill yourself just as I have."

John watches for a few minutes as Untitled walks slowly out of the picture. He sits on the bench contemplating the conversation he had with this wise stranger. After thinking for a few hours or so, after wrapping his mind around itself multiple times, he untangles it and decides what he must do. He must spread the lessons he has learned to the world one pathetic human at a time. He stands up from the bench, stretches his legs, and begins to troll around the park, looking for someone sitting alone to converse with. It is dark now, and John wonders what anyone would be doing alone at a park this time of day, but sure enough he spots a young man sitting alone, feeding a few ducks that have waddled away from their pond for a midnight snack. John sits down beside him and introduces himself. The man is very polite and returns his name, Heiden. John is now thinking of how to teach Heiden of the lessons he has learned today but has trouble weaving them into their conversation. Displeased with his progress, John simply decides to change the subject. He begins to tell Heiden of the depression this world is filled with, but Heiden's face is blank and his eyes are glossed over. He is not interested and most certainly does not agree. Heiden asks John, "Why do you think of things like this? You should live in the moment, live for the things you have, for the things you care for." This simple statement makes John realize that he can no longer agree with the stranger he met earlier today for John has things to live for whereas the stranger probably did not. That is what caused his depression. John knows now that there are reasons for him to thrive and be happy. John excuses himself, politely says goodbye to Heiden, and walks back to his filthy, rotting bench. He now compares the opinions of Heiden and the stranger and realizes that he believes in neither of them. He is just a tool who cannot think for himself. Depressed, he sits on his bench and stares past the moon, past the stars, past the sky. He lets his mind wander. Breaking his fixation is Heiden declaring he is making his leave from the park. He only has one thing to say as he strolls off, "You are not a tool because you cannot think for yourself. You cannot think for yourself because you are a tool."

Perplexed by all the lessons and philosophies John has been handed today, his soul morphs into a butterfly and drifts away.

John's soul, now a beautiful Monarch butterfly, begins to fly throughout the city, enjoying every site there is to see. It carefully listens to the sounds every object makes, the odor every object gives off, and every beauty that lies beneath the flesh. Crossing a street, John's soul is struck by an SUV and pronounced dead.

Perfect.

Island #2/Sea of Green

2009-12-20T10:34:00.000-08:00

I had one chance.
You had none left.
Left you with thorns wrapped
Tightly round your waist.

I'll give you my last breath,
A gift from my heart.
Though you won't hear me,
We're only a sea apart.

When you're alone at heart,
Take this with you.
I hope it helps the hurt
And the suffering too.
When you are trapped and need out,
Break on through.
Don't worry about what you leave behind
As long as you're right.

I've traveled the ocean.
I've many storied to tell you
When you're with me,
When you're free again.

Roses won't love me.
All they bring is pain,
But when they return you,
All is well, my friend.

This island is nice, North of the clouds.
I hope to see you here as soon as I get home.
And we will laugh amongst ourselves,
Exchanging stories from our past,
Until we all turn into tears
And rain from heavens, vast.

Post-Modern Starvation/A Chorus of Whales

2009-12-20T10:06:00.000-08:00

My thoughts are like a boat amongst the wind.
My skin is freezing, but I don't cave in.
The breeze is blowing gently through my hair.
My anchor drops, releasing water flares.

All the fish go running to the hills.
While I relax and sip my cup of thrills.
The thoughts inside my head that once remained.
Disappear in a flash of icy pain.

I am still here/
Touch me and you'll feel/
I am still the same/
Sixteen years have passed and nothing has changed.

As I awake the whales are migrating.
One breaks from its track to talk to me.
It tells me tales of death and life and pain.
The moral being which of us is to blame?

I am still here/
Reach out and you'll feel/
I am still the same/
Fifty years have passed and where's my shame?

-

He's no longer here with us.

Memories are slowly fading black.
Replaced by clouds slowly folding back.

He's no longer here with us.

Torture/Passive Suicidal Ideation

2009-12-20T10:00:00.000-08:00

Your love is like an earthquake
In which my heart
Seeps through the cracks and falls apart.

Into an endless pit of depression.

But you can't say we didn't try.
You can't say we didn't try our hardest.
You can't say it wasn't fun.
You can't say anything because we were just children.
Now my heart screams and falls apart.

If I knew then what I know now
I probably would have killed myself and saved you all
From the torture that is living and loving.

And loving you is torture.
Can't you see I'm dying?
I'm dying alone.
Don't want to hear you moan because you had your chance.
You tore it in two.
And now it hangs from your ceiling.
Now my soul tears and flies away.

I think I would rather the earth kiss my flesh.
I think I would rather the rope kiss my flesh.
I think I would rather the blade kiss my flesh.
And I think I would rather the water engulf my flesh
Than be here and forced to adore you.

Torture.

Torture, can't you see I'm slipping?
Will you help me up?
no.
All you do is kick me while I'm down.
Now my heart screams and falls apart.

<3

2009-12-18T00:06:00.000-08:00

2009-12-17T22:38:00.001-08:00

Fish oil is slowly saving my life...
... I hope.

2009-12-15T13:51:00.000-08:00

I am constantly learning from my mistakes/

And I can assure you this rose will never die.

That, my dear, is a promise from an experienced gentleman.

HURT.

2009-12-15T08:54:00.000-08:00

My mind is a cluttered mess of emotions, thoughts, ideas, and knick-knacks.

I wonder if the world would make sense through an organized pair of glasses.

It is a shame I will never find out.

At least there's still beauty in this world.

Mise à jour.

2009-12-14T20:52:00.000-08:00

writingwritingwriting.

PSI.

Wise Words From the Man In Green v1.2

2009-12-14T13:40:00.000-08:00

"You work your whole life making money/

Only to realize you are now old."

----------!

2009-12-12T10:59:00.000-08:00

When it comes to being lucky, she's cursed.

When it comes to loving me, she's worst.

But when it comes to being loved, she's first.

Winter is nigh.

2009-12-11T12:30:00.000-08:00

It appears my days have become reduced to repetition. I have been relying lately.

I'm sorry, sweet Satan, I have shamed you.

Relying leads to being let down leads to depression leads to...

... O SHIT!

2009-12-10T18:22:00.001-08:00

Confusion.

2009-12-09T22:16:00.001-08:00

"Everyone around me is depressed."

2009-12-08T23:06:00.001-08:00

Blunts all day.

2009-12-08T09:58:00.001-08:00

Bugs are everywhere. I'm going fucking crazy. save me...?

depressiondepressiondepression

2009-12-08T08:46:00.000-08:00

depressiondepressiondepressiondepression go awaaaaaaayyyyyy!

kthxbai!

2009-12-07T19:29:00.001-08:00

Old skool shiiyyyytttt. testingtesting/123.

2009-12-07T19:09:00.001-08:00

First blog post from my phone. Intere?Sting?

Ths is me, frstrtd.

2009-12-07T18:58:00.000-08:00

Everyone updates their Tumblr.

No one updates their Blogger.

I don't use Tumblr.

I use Blogger.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckthat.

07

2009-12-07T14:09:00.000-08:00

bunch of fucked up motherfuckers/
in a pile.

you make me happy though. :)

Waking up.

2009-12-04T20:38:00.000-08:00

The light's still on.

fmlfmflmflmfmlflmflmfg.

Never had it.

2009-12-03T12:08:00.000-08:00

your beauty will always surpass mine.

the sun.

the moon.

the stars.

the earth.

i am infinitely jealous.

but i am glad i am alive to be here with you.

bbbblllluuuurrrryyyy.

2009-12-03T11:57:00.000-08:00

New Bike. :)

I'm gonna ride a lot.

What the fuck happened?

stressstressstressstressstressstress.

2009-12-02T22:44:00.000-08:00

Everything will turn out in the long run.

Hopefully in my favor.

This stress is killing me, which calls for a Fuck List:

"Fuck school. Fuck homework. Fuck sleep deprivation. Fuck disappointment. Fuck the future. Fuck human nature. Fuck instinct. Fuck the anti-christ. Fuck Fuck Lists."

I'm living for right now, and it's great. :)

Listen to Jazz.

Blut. Zex. Fire.

2009-12-02T08:25:00.000-08:00

You don't know what I've seen/

You don't know where I've been//

But you know where I'm going.

And that's the truth.

21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28

2009-11-30T12:22:00.000-08:00

I've never missed anyone more.

Let's never do that again.

Now, Some Wise Words From Me.

2009-11-30T12:04:00.000-08:00

"But take your time, think a lot. Why, think of everything you've got/

For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not."

Now who are you to say I will still be here tomorrow? A bit of over-assumption, don't you think? Maybe my dreams will be here tomorrow without me. Then you would be the fool. Ha. Depression.

"Oh man, what a plan, suicide."

Wise Words From the Man In Green.

2009-11-30T11:58:00.000-08:00

"If you're not outraged,

you're not paying attention."

excerpts from the script.

thinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthink.

2009-11-29T13:22:00.000-08:00

"I'm no better than anyone else, and I hate myself for that."

"I'm no better than anyone else, and I love myself for that."

59 for 59

I'd say that's a good game.

It's good to be back.

2009-11-29T13:16:00.000-08:00

And back, and back...

... and forth.

I went back/I'm never going back

i want to go back.

?Future!

2009-11-27T16:46:00.000-08:00

Numerous aspirations.

Numerous deaths.

gravity only brings us down...

down

Thank you for giving to me.

2009-11-26T13:09:00.000-08:00

Depression clouds my brain like/

Humans plague the earth.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Ich tu dir weh...

2009-11-25T16:27:00.000-08:00

123456789...
10.
11..
12...

I haven't updated in awhile it seems.
To sum up my current living situation:

+ Santa Barbara
+ Stressed
+ Happy

Das Ende.

Slide.

2009-11-05T09:26:00.000-08:00

"There's no love lost that I can't find again, my dear."

<3

0 567/5 7 8 7 5//0 567/5 7 2

2009-09-12T12:58:00.000-07:00

Through some experiments with LSD, I have discovered that my newly written song sucks.

If I ever record it, I'll post a d-load link.

Origins and Endings

2009-09-09T10:14:00.000-07:00

The original plan for this blog was for me to post all of my poems. My goal was to post a poem a day until I reached 365. Clearly that did not work out, so I will just be posting poems at the rate that I like which, as you can see, is about one a month.

Shortly I will be posting the lyrics of an unwritten song.

Caesar Chavez, What Are You Doing In My Meth Lab?

2009-05-01T17:25:00.000-07:00

Like lust, inside my soul is a rock,

That walks, talks, and breathes,

Wrapped tight like geese in a flock,

And lying on the ground like Autumn leaves.

Its flawless imperfections are unknown.

He hides himself and projects his bones.

What you see is what you like,

And you don't question him because he holds your life.

His life is a lie, and he is not content,

But you are, quite because you like what you get.

If he told you the truth, you'd soon be upset,

Because lying inside him are his lies, sopping wet.

With the tears that he sheds at least twice a day,

Seeping deep in his cracks to hide themselves away,

Because they are ashamed too, just as much as their rock,

But they cannot speak. They just roll and they rot.

When his mouth opens wide to speak his true words,

The people will gather to hear what is heard.

When true words are spoken the herd will deplete,

Because Caesar Chavez does meth, and the rock has been beat.

And Life Is Just

2009-04-01T20:12:00.000-07:00

When the furtive fox flowers from the fence,

The fiery frog eyes fly six pence,

Into the fountain of freedom and frustration,

From fog and dust fortify His moderation.

My friends and foes are family and fine.

For two points, He flipped a coin for mine.

Fell from the sky, a feather divine.

For fire and ice don't combine all the time.

So from this fine coin sprung a well for the world,

Where the lives of our children fling deep and don't stir.

Frollick and sit, they do neither of both.

God's children doth shine, and so he spoke.

A hand reaches up from the Heavens below,

And grabs a small friend for the fire to blow.

When the fire doth blow a new family will grow,

To fly back to the well.

And life is just.

Suffer

2009-03-12T10:55:00.000-07:00

I walked towards the beautiful multi-colored flower. Boredom controlled my mind. I quickly wrapped my fingers around the flower and yanked it out of the ground. I slowly ripped out each of the pedals, letting each one dance to the cement floor with grace. I watched as a whitish fluid ran from the flower’s bottom. I had nearly ripped every pedal off of the lovely flower when I heard a bell ring, signaling my leave for biology. I dropped the flower to the floor and left for class.
I just stood there, leaning where the wind told me. Something was approaching. As they walked steadily towards me, my heart raced faster and faster. They wrapped their gigantic fingers around my waist and yanked me out of the ground. I screamed in agony. Torture. They placed their forefinger and thumb on one of my blood red pedals. I begged for peace, but none came. They then ripped off the first pedal, dropping it to the gray cement without a care in the world. Blood was dripping from the bottom of my stem, splattering onto the ground, then slowly seeping into the dirt-filled cracks. They did not cease the ripping. One by one my pedals disappeared to the floor as my silent shrieks filled the air. They paused; fingers on another one of my pedals. Could this be the end of my torture? The human dropped me, watching as I danced to the ground. I felt a snap in my back as I hit. The human left me there, to suffer.

Disfigured Souls Need Mending Too

2009-03-11T20:50:00.000-07:00

My flesh suit was sprung from the water
Of a swimming hole,
With fishes teeth wrapped around
Like a loving soul.
Then my love began to sew it,
But it took a toll while my life unfolds.

It came out nicely
Dripping semen on the plate
From a previous dinner
Where I previously ate,
So I put it on tight,
And a man it did create until my organs flow.

And whirling from the dusty ground,
A ghost to visit me,
He said, "The clock is ticking slowly,
But it's spinning faster than your eyes can see,"
And then he sunk back into the ground
Leaving nothing but debris, and so the flowers grow.

I took a step into the World,
And my soul got wet.
It sunk in deep to make sure
That I never would forget
The creation of my flesh suit
And how Jesus and I first met, so now I wait in the cold.

Death is a Lover

2009-03-11T07:52:00.001-07:00

I'd walk up your hill
But only with a piano in one ear and a cricket in the other.
If you consider the theory what comes up must come down
Then I think you'll soon be seeing your brother.

When you ask the stork it won't shut up,
But if you ask the duck I cannot say.
We all know the clouds conspire against us,
But I still think they'll release your father some day.

I tried to take him once,
But they got mad and cried all over the city.
I fell from atop Cloud 7
And as I fell, a thought hit me.

If everybody is supposed to die,
Why then do we get upset when they're set free?
Just grab a goose, steal his wings, and fly
Because Death is a lover and so are we.

Sleep Is Good

2009-03-10T22:28:00.000-07:00

Sleep is good. I think I’ll have some on a silver platter tonight. Just for dessert.

Stohn, for the life of him, cannot find his mind. He always misplaces it. Behind the sink, in the cat, beyond conclusions. Where is it, Stohn? I think I see it, over yonder. Watch him run. Past the streetlamps, cars, and snails that like to be crushed. He stumbles, and his mind bounces away, but only a piece. A peace.
That was a good sleep. Probably the best tasting in years. Let’s ponder; shall we, Jesus?
It bounces, like a plastic bag, floating in the wet cement. There it went Stohn, through a grate by the subway. You better catch up, before it’s too late. Before you lose your mind. Stohn runs. His body swiftly turns to a salty mist and floats gracefully, full of grace, through the rusty grate, of which my delectable toenails like to fall through on Sundays. He runs down stairs. Lots of stairs. Lots of greasy, fattening stairs. He sees his mind. It’s catching a tram to the nearest thought. He runs passed the hobos, passed the pretty ugly musicians ringing aloud their songs of death and joy. And how Stohn loves those songs. How they reel around in his mind like Smiths and the fountain. He reaches the tram in time to catch the same thought as his mind.
Jesus, why am I eating cereal? I hate cereal. It’s a Tuesday. Why did God have to make it a Tuesday today. I like the Wednesdays better. They serve the dreams faster that day. So they make it to me piping hot. They taste better hot.
Stohn has had a pleasant chat with his mind over the passed few minutes. But oh no, how I must always break the bad news. That’s not your mind Stohn. It’s not? By golly, no, it belongs to a person less significant to you. A person of little belonging to this filthy world, which is why I am pausing from your search to take a while to talk about him. You see Stohn, this is no ordinary tram. Maybe it would be on a Wednesday, but today is no Wednesday. It’s a Tuesday. And everybody, even those less significant, know that Tuesdays on the tram is a day for a meeting of minds. A meeting of minds? Yes, a day in which minds meet. It is indubitably a challenging puzzle, but of course, every puzzle, has an answer.
Damn it God. I officially decree that Tuesdays suck eggs. No piping hot dreams, a meeting of minds in which I lose mine, and a dead cat floating above my head with a deranged look in its eye, but only the left eye mind you. Wait, replace the cat with a moose and it becomes reality.
Milk, eggs, and toast for breakfast. I can slot you in the Tuesday of next year’s year. Hi citizen of internetland! How may I be of some service two you. “How old are you Stohn?”
“Well, in two years, I will be twice as old as my non-existent brother when he has his third birthday of the year in the year of ZXC?2000. Does that answer your question?”
“No. L My math teacher made us do these problems in school, but I never paid attention to them because I assumed I would never come across a problem like this, but now that I have, I am not in the know of how to solve it.”
“Silly squash dork, you have my mind. Give it back.”
It was then that Stohn shoved his arm down the citizen’s throat, releasing his grease monkeys to retrieve the mind that rightfully belonged to him.

Sleep is good…

The Rules of the Sky

2009-03-10T22:25:00.000-07:00

It is in my sock that this story starts. In the town of Thread Ville to be more precise. In this town lived a Thread named Frankle. Now Frankle is not of the ordinary Threads. He likes to think outside of the box. On the “U” if you will. Those Threads like to play, Frankle likes to invent. The Threads like to fly. Frankle likes to read. You see, Frankle finds no point in flying, for there is always a limit. There are “Rules of the Sky” that were meant to be followed, and if they weren’t followed, then the sentence was death. Frankle assumes that a simple screw up could get him executed, so he plays it safer than sorry. And this becomes the downfall of Frankle’s life. He decides to do some research.
Within his research, Frankle discovers something far beyond any other Thread’s imagination, far beyond anything’s expectation. For what Frankle discovered, was that of another world, set aside and believed to be a myth, but Frankle knows better than to be fooled by other’s beliefs. He likes to think for himself. It was then that Frankle decided he must leave the bore of Thread Ville, to journey to the outside world, where he could fly freely, and do as he pleases without execution.
After gathering all his adventure equipment for his journey, he packs into a velvet handbag a journal, beaten and bruised from any old wear and tear, and his golden magical toothbrush received from the King himself as an award for his genius. And out on his journey Frankle ventured…
… now; Frankle’s journey begins at the outskirts of town where he is waved goodbye to by all his fellow Threads. After saying his farewells to nearly every Thread personally, he is ready to make leave. As his cab slowly arrives, it’s yellow paint coating shimmering in the sun, the sun sets on his magnificent start, and he knows he must make as much progress towards Jesus Land as possible, so as to not run into much trouble. The cab reaches him, halting to a stop as the rubber tires spray up dirt into his personal bubble. He says one last goodbye to all, reaches his hand out and grabs the handle of the metallic door, pulls it softly until hearing the slightest clicking noise, then hops in, his belongings first, and the cab drives off, off into the orange sunset, towards Frankle’s destiny.
Dear Journal,
It appears this is my first entry in quite awhile. Sorry I haven’t had time to chat. I have decided to journey to the outside land, known as Jesus Land to many. I have decided this, for I am aggravated at my limitations to everything in Thread Ville. I will journey there, to fly! To fly where there is no rules, where there is no invisible lines.
As Frankle completed his journal entry, the cab came to a halt, Frankle lifting his pen up and shutting his journal just in time to not unintentionally ruin the last letter of the last word. The driver seemed to have been quiet during the entire drive towards the edge of the Sock. Per-chance he noticed Frankle writing and decided not to bother him.
Frankle stepped out of the cab, left foot first, then his right. His black boots kicked up dust as he stepped out to the edge of the cliff. He jumped. He jumped, into Jesus Land.

It was then and there that Frankle forgot the Rules of the Sky.