Is there a point of time beyond the point of anything anymore? Is there a finite line that might as well be infinity evermore? A million points of light I could never touch, Beyond my reach, the distance too much. Can one still have the vision and yet have lost the power? And can it be too late even in this early hour? My heart still beats and this life seems so long. Nobody's watching, but the show must go on. Even if it has taken you away. There is this tiny place out of time, where I find myself again and again, trapped in the reality of my dreams, an endless loop of that same scene, again and again and again. This part of me that can never leave. to witness one still there but nowhere at all, to see one leave yet still stay, there still, but gone away. This pain finds me, reminds me, Inclines me to cover my eyes, Tells me tales I could never forget and never comforts me with lies. My constant companion, subtle in the background, or heavy on my mind, to find that unlike that soul who left this hole, It is here to stay, it won't go away, As will the memory of assumptions I let deceive me, believe me, That everything was going to be okay, it shall never leave me, as did she, gone without a choice, without a voice, leaving me, leaving me. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to leave here, I wish you could stay, Everywhere's just not anywhere If not with you today. I can't recall losing anything anywhere that isn't here, if not for you, without you near, without you here. I find myself in this place, so I shouldn't lose myself elsewhere, to anyplace lacking you or lacking me. I find myself here but have truly I found myself at all? Where am I? Looking for you? Who am I? Why am I? Where are you? Looking for me? And are you still? And I will always be in this very last place that I held your hand, this very last room with the walls closing in, holding back, still holding back, This last time that I ever tried looking, longing, wandering, searching for what could never again be, and wondering why, this wandering soul lost to me, one with the universe and forever free, Yet in this tiny pocket of time, a prisoner I shall always be. And here in this envelope covered in dust, left in this mailbox covered in rust, I leave this letter: Beautiful soul, you deserved better.
The Post Modern Frog Prince: A Ribbiting Story
Well, I took a tumble and totally fell on my ass. Nothing broken, just sore as hell and got my innards jarred real good. It's not like falling as a kid. Concrete floors hurt, man! And as a not quite spring chicken anymore, falling on the floor hurts, too. Maybe it's not as painful as falling in love, but damn that smarts. I feel like poor Mustafa from the Austin Powers movies. Speaking of falling, February is fast approaching, so fast that it'll probably already be here by the time I publish this. Are we ready? Are we wearing our Anti-Cupid arrow deflecting armor? I certainly wish I had been wearing my super dupid Cupid repellent when a certain someone made an appearance in my life. I have never seen her steal anything, except hearts, mine in particular. And I want it back. Not that it was on purpose, mind you. Some souls are just naturally wonderful. It's nobody's fault, you know. Do you know something else? Well, let me tell ya. I used to think that the Roman Empire executing a guy was an insane basis for a holiday based around falling in love. But it's actually starting to make sense. Why? Because falling in love has certainly made me lose my head in a figurative sense, at least. Damn it. Have I completely lost my freaking mind? Princess Charming, she is beautiful inside and out and stubbernly holding onto a bad situation. And even if she wasn't, oh well, I would doubt my chances. They always go for the jerk and keep waiting for the jerk to stop being a jerk. Ribbit, ribbit! This is the story of the 21st century frog prince. You will know it is time to turn the page when you hear me make frog sounds like this: Ribbit ribbit! Let's begin now. "Ribbit, fix me," said the frog. "Turn me into a prince!" But a frog will always be a frog, ribbit ribbit! And while I'll never be a prince, I'll never be a frog. Unless that elderly lady I inadvertently pissed off at the store the other day happens to be into casting spells, ribbit ribbit! The best way to scare a princess off? It's not warts, ribbit ribbit! It's honesty and genuine feelings. Ribbit, friend zone, ribbit, friend zone! The best way to get a door slammed right in front of you? "Open the door, lovely princess!'. Such is the story of my life. Otherwise, how are you doing? Ribbit, ribbit, subject change! The reason I am not so much for check boxes and categories is this: Because I don't believe either God or random chance is very motivated at sorting souls by the package they are put in. Kind souls, gentle souls, beautiful souls, psychopaths, sadistic monsters, could be men or women or of any race. That is why sexism or racism (no matter against who) is just as stupid as it is wrong. It is the arrogance of judging a book by its cover and the laziness of not bothering to read it before declaring what it's all about. The body really is a prison, you know. There are those happy in their own flesh, and some of us are not so happy. Either way, it's a life sentence, and we've got to make the best of it. Reality sure can be a bitch and a half. Believe it or not, I'm not angry, I'm not bitter. I'm just tired. I've seen this wheel go around enough times, and maybe I'm finally figuring things out. It's just that by the time one gets their ducks in a row, they're no spring chicken. And that, my friends is totally quacked up, if you'll pardon my fowl language, wocka wocka wocka. Friends, Romans, robots, and strangers, I seem to be invisible of late. I'm not sure is it is because of people or technology, but I do not feel seen at all. Well, I keep saying it's a vortex that sucks the life out of people, yet I keep on letting it pull me in. Guess I will never learn. Too bad I am only metaphorically invisible. If it were literal, maybe it would be time to start life anew, a life of crime as a super villain, seeing how much money I could steal from bank vaults and from other criminals. Let H.G. Wells be informed that the invisible man has returned. This time, it's personal, but also, I mean business. I'd stash hundred dollar bills everywhere. Hell, I'd make kickass furniture out of them. Check it out, The couch of a million Franklins. Would you like to invest in my new banking firm, Dewey, Steelurmonie, and Howe? Yep, there would be a new super villain in town. Nope, not like The Joker, because I'd be dead serious. It would be high time to collect on a few overdue bills, with interest and penalties. Ah, but... I am only metaphorically invisible, so I guess I will remain a law-abiding, if lonely citizen. Bummer, dude. I guess the world will never know my glory. It's their loss as well as mine. I would imagine every human being feels invisible sometimes. I would think it is a very human thing to feel this way. The bad thing is that I wholeheartedly believe that social media exploits this. I'll bet they have licensed psychologists who help tweak the algorithm to make it even worse. Think of it this way, not every cowboy in those old westerns wore a white hat. The same would be true in any profession, of any slice of humanity whatsoever. The line between the good and the bad was often quite clear and defined in those movies where villains announced themselves, declared their evil schemes. It becomes a bit hazy in the real world where the villains hide their true nature and intentions. How often did the Lone Ranger have to ask himself whether he was doing the right thing or who the bad guys were? Was Bad Bart ever ambiguous about being bad? Did he ever masquerade as Good Bart? I guess villains in later movies were better at deception. Gooooood, Anakin, gooood! My point? In the real world, things aren't always what they seem and not everybody is your friend. I wonder if it's better to be under no illusion of not being alone when you actually are? That's all social media is, one giant illusion, actually deception. I think that aside from my photography hobby, this blog should be the only place that I express myself and my true feelings. With any luck, these words will stay and maybe there will come a far future day where someone who needs these words will find them. Maybe this is the only hope, my only purpose left. They say to trust no one, to never open up, to never tell another soul everything, to never reveal your true feelings to anyone. But I say there needs to be one. It doesn't even have to be a lover, though that would be ideal. While a physical closeness would be wonderful, what I really need oh so much more than that is a closeness of souls, a real connection that goes so far beyond this flesh. This is what I find so lacking in my life. This is why I feel invisible, unseen, lost and without love. This is what breaks my heart when I think too much about it. What's more, it seems maybe I'm a bit too picky in regards to someone. In fact, there is really only one person on the face of this earth who I could see myself opening up to in that way. Which brings me back to why I should have been wearing that anti cherub armor. Damn it, Cupid. Damn it, Eros. Why let fly with the goddamn arrows if you were only going to strike one of us? Oh well, I keep saying I'll get over it. I've been saying so for damn near two years now. I'm still waiting. While I know it makes no logical sense to feel this way, it's my heart and not my brain in charge when it comes to this particular human being. She could ask me for the Moon, and I'd be trying to figure how to steal it from the sky, regardless whether doing so would win her heart. It's stupid, I know, yet here I am. And I think it's high time once again for another subject change, clean cup move down. Damn, people can be so annoying sometimes. I wish they were better at minding their own damn business. I don't get to see my special friend as often as these busy bodies think, so why begrudge me one of the few sources of happiness in my life? True, if we were lovers, there would be more and better moments to be together, but sadly we're not and this friendship is all that I have. It has been far more a lifeline than anybody (Even she) will ever know. Can people really be so damn bitter and resentful as to deny me this one ray of sunshine in my dark world? It is one hell of an irony that this flack is from people, mind you, who actually have soul mates to come home to, while I don't. Is this world made of earth, or is it made of bullshit? Regardless of everything, she is my love (Though I can't tell her this) so leave her alone. I need this presence in my life. Please don't be running her off. Maybe I could live without her, but maybe I don't want to. Damn it, I am just so sick of everything. If you can't be my friend, then just fuck off and leave me the hell alone. Okay, rant over, subject change imminent, clean cup move down. See, dear friends, Romans, robots, and strangers, you get to see all aspects, the good, the bad, and the not so pretty. And Clint Eastwood, I am not. Man, I must have busted myself up pretty good, because I am really starting to get sore as hell. There's no vital organs that I know of in the area where I'm hurting, aside from my right lung, and I seem to be breathing okay. Can bruised ribs be a thing? I just checked. Mr. Google says yes. I don't think anything's broken, but man am I sore! "Oh the pain, please not directly in the Canali!" For those who are wondering, I was referencing Robot Chicken's Wrath Of Khan Opera. Now, that would be a cool opera. It's got all the elements, lost love, friendship, and revenge. This is Ceti Alpha V! Ow, I need to stop because it hurts to laugh. The floor and Khan Noonian Singh have something in common. It's done far worse than kill me, It's hurt me, and it wish to go on hurting me. It will leave me as I left it, sprawled out on the floor of a dead planet, buried alive, buried alive! KHAAAAAAAN!!!! It's a weird, giddy feeling that I can't exactly describe. This soreness is having a peculiar effect on me. I have always been and ever shall be your friend. Live long and prosper. I can't wait to get home and crawl into my bed, maybe take some ibuprofen or something, but I have errands to run first. Miles to go before I sleep, as Robert Frost so eloquently put it. I really feel I have had more than my quota of fun for the day and certainly for the week. In the end, all I want is peace.
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