Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Onus and the partying of animals
I listen to their stories with eyes tainted a color of excitement.
Little, if no, explanation is needed about their excursions, and
I wish that when I had been there age, I would have let go of
My paranoia, if but for a moment to experience something that
I don't think I can go back and experience right now. Maybe if
I had traded my sadness for a bong, or my depression for an
Alcoholic beverage, then I could revel in what they will be
Reveling in when they get to be somewhere near my age. No,
Instead I was sitting home with a child, and half the time I
Was sick, whether it be sickness of the mind or my pneumonia,
It didn't matter. My days were already planned the moment
They appeared on the calendar. Someone took my hours and
Made them into what they saw fit. All I could do was mourn
The death of my senior year. I stared at the ideals of the others
Behind bars, it seems though they were only my eyes. I could
Only dream about doing the bigger and better things in my
Life, I couldn't actually go and do them. I had only my fantasies
And even my goals became nil after some time. I knew there
Would come a time when I would have to resurrect my ambition
And go from there. In those hours when I should have been
Preparing myself for prom my doing my hair and wearing some
Dress I would regret buying, I believe I was reading bedtime
Stories and changing diapers. At a time when I could have had
It so much better, I was too damn busy having it so much worse.
Harbored in the excitement of my mind, I see those two and I
Live through them, though a part of me crumbles as I do so. As
Graduation rolled around, so did insanity, and with that came
Scars and no one will ever know how they got there. I hold the
Key to that plethora brainsickness. I then became accustomed to
Denying the company of voices, and welcoming the brief hours
When I could sit alone and be one with the coldness emitted from
Everyone else who never knew. Then there was that one time…
I graduated, but I was not special like those who graduated with
Some kind of honor. I was merely another faceless someone
Who finished high school. I graduated. I wore a white cap
And gown and I had a feather around my tassel. I embellished
My appearance to make myself look and feel better but when
We arrived, I sat in my seat, next to these two people who I
Cannot remember now. Inside me welled up a volcano of tears
Waiting to erupt because I will never know why this occasion
Wasn't worth attending. I never knew why he would rather
Stay home, or why they chose not to go, or why she couldn't
Get off of work, or why she wouldn't make the travel down
To see me graduated when I had done that for her. I wondered
Why I was the only one out of all those graduates who sat
There on the verge of damnation and tears. And not tears of
Happiness but tears of depressive sorrow. I never knew why I
Never made such a big fuss about it, I never knew why I didn't
Press to them a little more but all that is in vain now. Instead, I
Sit around to hear the tales my sibling tells and only wish that
I were a bit more irresponsible so I can join in. I suppose that
It's more like anxiety. I would rather read a book in the silence
Of my own hours, the hours that I took back for my own because
I thought they had owned them for so long, too long. I cannot
Un-cry my distress, though I've thought of ways as to how I
Could conquer such an attempt. I haven't so much as failed at
That as I breathed it in the wind and hoped that someone like
God or some demented angel would grant me one wish in this
Abomination known as life. If I could forget, I sometimes think
That I could be some flavor of okay. I know how the story goes.
It's supposed to teach me something, but all I've learned is
That I don't trust people that much, I'm paranoid during most
Of the day, and I easily cry due to verbal abuse, though no one
Could ever know that unless I was to tell them. How many times,
I wonder, did I sit in the corner of my malfunction and let the
Slow somber tears just glide their way down to the carpet? I
Listened to a lot of Coldplay in those days and saw scrutiny from
My peers as something bad, and then they were seen as the foe,
For all the sh!t they pulled on me in those days. Everything from
The way I looked and dressed, to the things I wrote, and even
Reaching to the way I spoke about stuff, was under deep and cruel
Criticism. Calling it that is just being nice. Discrimination and
Prejudice were better words for it, but cruel intentions are only
A form of inadequacy among the dullards I went to school
With. Some of them I see now and I just pretend they had blown
Away or that I was better than them, when in actuality, I was
Probably as scornful as they. That never stopped me from tempting
Lies of my character in their direction. It did, however, stop me
From letting my mind wander too far for me to see, I ended up
Just playing the odds, befriending the enemy and then it was I
Who they always dropped, simply because the words that came
Out of my mouth always gave them the creeps or perhaps I said
Something of truth and it attacked them with deep thought. I
Guess I was always looking for my place before today, and it is
On today that I stop searching. I tire of trying to fit in where I
Don't belong and even more exhausted of explaining myself to
Those who aren't equipped to understand. Instead, I go back to
The way I always was and even that doesn't have a name. It never did.
January 27, 2006
Suge
Little, if no, explanation is needed about their excursions, and
I wish that when I had been there age, I would have let go of
My paranoia, if but for a moment to experience something that
I don't think I can go back and experience right now. Maybe if
I had traded my sadness for a bong, or my depression for an
Alcoholic beverage, then I could revel in what they will be
Reveling in when they get to be somewhere near my age. No,
Instead I was sitting home with a child, and half the time I
Was sick, whether it be sickness of the mind or my pneumonia,
It didn't matter. My days were already planned the moment
They appeared on the calendar. Someone took my hours and
Made them into what they saw fit. All I could do was mourn
The death of my senior year. I stared at the ideals of the others
Behind bars, it seems though they were only my eyes. I could
Only dream about doing the bigger and better things in my
Life, I couldn't actually go and do them. I had only my fantasies
And even my goals became nil after some time. I knew there
Would come a time when I would have to resurrect my ambition
And go from there. In those hours when I should have been
Preparing myself for prom my doing my hair and wearing some
Dress I would regret buying, I believe I was reading bedtime
Stories and changing diapers. At a time when I could have had
It so much better, I was too damn busy having it so much worse.
Harbored in the excitement of my mind, I see those two and I
Live through them, though a part of me crumbles as I do so. As
Graduation rolled around, so did insanity, and with that came
Scars and no one will ever know how they got there. I hold the
Key to that plethora brainsickness. I then became accustomed to
Denying the company of voices, and welcoming the brief hours
When I could sit alone and be one with the coldness emitted from
Everyone else who never knew. Then there was that one time…
I graduated, but I was not special like those who graduated with
Some kind of honor. I was merely another faceless someone
Who finished high school. I graduated. I wore a white cap
And gown and I had a feather around my tassel. I embellished
My appearance to make myself look and feel better but when
We arrived, I sat in my seat, next to these two people who I
Cannot remember now. Inside me welled up a volcano of tears
Waiting to erupt because I will never know why this occasion
Wasn't worth attending. I never knew why he would rather
Stay home, or why they chose not to go, or why she couldn't
Get off of work, or why she wouldn't make the travel down
To see me graduated when I had done that for her. I wondered
Why I was the only one out of all those graduates who sat
There on the verge of damnation and tears. And not tears of
Happiness but tears of depressive sorrow. I never knew why I
Never made such a big fuss about it, I never knew why I didn't
Press to them a little more but all that is in vain now. Instead, I
Sit around to hear the tales my sibling tells and only wish that
I were a bit more irresponsible so I can join in. I suppose that
It's more like anxiety. I would rather read a book in the silence
Of my own hours, the hours that I took back for my own because
I thought they had owned them for so long, too long. I cannot
Un-cry my distress, though I've thought of ways as to how I
Could conquer such an attempt. I haven't so much as failed at
That as I breathed it in the wind and hoped that someone like
God or some demented angel would grant me one wish in this
Abomination known as life. If I could forget, I sometimes think
That I could be some flavor of okay. I know how the story goes.
It's supposed to teach me something, but all I've learned is
That I don't trust people that much, I'm paranoid during most
Of the day, and I easily cry due to verbal abuse, though no one
Could ever know that unless I was to tell them. How many times,
I wonder, did I sit in the corner of my malfunction and let the
Slow somber tears just glide their way down to the carpet? I
Listened to a lot of Coldplay in those days and saw scrutiny from
My peers as something bad, and then they were seen as the foe,
For all the sh!t they pulled on me in those days. Everything from
The way I looked and dressed, to the things I wrote, and even
Reaching to the way I spoke about stuff, was under deep and cruel
Criticism. Calling it that is just being nice. Discrimination and
Prejudice were better words for it, but cruel intentions are only
A form of inadequacy among the dullards I went to school
With. Some of them I see now and I just pretend they had blown
Away or that I was better than them, when in actuality, I was
Probably as scornful as they. That never stopped me from tempting
Lies of my character in their direction. It did, however, stop me
From letting my mind wander too far for me to see, I ended up
Just playing the odds, befriending the enemy and then it was I
Who they always dropped, simply because the words that came
Out of my mouth always gave them the creeps or perhaps I said
Something of truth and it attacked them with deep thought. I
Guess I was always looking for my place before today, and it is
On today that I stop searching. I tire of trying to fit in where I
Don't belong and even more exhausted of explaining myself to
Those who aren't equipped to understand. Instead, I go back to
The way I always was and even that doesn't have a name. It never did.
January 27, 2006
Suge
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Onus and the partying of animals
Onus and the partying of animals
