Through

Through-

When the sun barked down it’s orders,
We just stood and tempered gaze,
The clouds covered up what the rain couldn’t see,
And the mountains dripped all their delay,

When nominal statues proclaim fallen wheat,
And the lightened fifth finger shards true,
It’s here that we stay, till another black day,
And follow our demons through and through,

The last bombs had fallen with wacky descent,
The peasants lay strewn and bleeding,
In this mess of a city, The beast is the beast,
And the beast of the beast is still feeding,

When the last king laid his thorny crown,
At a dying beggars feet,
Wealth was then a fallen word,
In rasping icy heat –
Of all things wrong and true, the truth broke through.

What if-

I'm constantly obsessed that I'm changing mentally from day to day, but looking over old posts- I really haven't much at all. I've got a lot snottier, and scatter brained, but a sort of inherent essence remains. For the last 2 years of this I've been writing to an anonymous reader with the strange fantasy that one day someone might understand the workings of my mind even I can't comprehend. I've been questioning futile concepts for so long now and I haven't got an answer for any of it. I thought philosophy would solve these problems, give me a glimpse of the big everything. Maybe the truth is that I'm just not ready for it. Maybe no one is.

I have two main personas in everyday life.
1. The thinker. The guy that strolls around daydreaming and listening to obscure music. He gets randomly down a lot of the time, and finds it difficult to interact with anyone for a long amount of time.

2. The teenager. He is usually seen with a bottle of something alcoholic in his hand, acccompanied with a cigarette. He drinks obscene amounts. He finds it easy to communicate with people in this state, and all previous philosophical questioning is put on hold. He wishes he could stay in this state forever, rather than waking up the next morning dull and stale again.

Occasionally these two personalities interlink. The drunken teenager will come out with something obscure such as "I am not the walrus" or "I was the trick my mother played on the world". This is usually in a large group of people and has absolutely no relevance to the conversation.

In effect, I've always had a sort of loose dependancy on alcohol. Drunken at a party is my happiest state of being, and that seems inherently depressing in itself. No inhibitions, and an enviroment where that's allowed.

My friend Matt Scott is leaving Southampton. Going back to his mum's, and while I know he'll be happier, I selfishly miss him already. No more random poetry, no more joint reckless behavior, no more Matt Scott. We had a blowout party for him on Saturday. Booze, distant friends, the lot. After being a teenager till 6 in the morning, I K.O'ed on the kitchen floor and vaugely remember Matt waking me up to tell me he was leaving. I must've just passed out again. How rude.

Oh - Roxie/Peaches and I have broken up. I did it, and it was absolutely the correct thing to do. I'm too dysfunctional right now, too broken in multiple points in the head. It wasn't fair on her. Then again, maybe it's just my belief that I'm dysfunctional that actually makes me dysfunctional as opposed to the other way around. I'm going to post some poetry next. It's the closest I'll get to getting published.

What if -

Redshift.