I hate you matt.

I have long since forgotten about this blog until I received a notice about it in my inbox. Anywho, please go check my new blog scribble-toys.webs.com. I promise the writing is much better.

Griggori Tyler Taylor

That phone commercial with the Landon Pigg Song came on again. I know it sounds stupid, but it makes me want to cry every time that 25 seconds of advertising prances across a tv screen. It reminds me of last year and how great the days were together and how different this year is. We have 4 days of school left, and then everything is turned upside down. I am no longer forced to go anywhere. I will have absolute freedom to walk where I wish at anytime. But I can't help but fill sorrowful for the the things coming up that must remain unspoken. I suppose I'll speak of them later. In retrospect, there have been some good and more bad. Only one great thing happened, and that was me becoming friends with Anna. It is good to know we will still talk after high school.

I'm sitting in the making stuff room eating a formally frozen pizza with sprite, which I only started drinking because of the obey ad campaign for ironic purposes, and wondering what I should do with tomorrow; It being a holiday. I finished those 30 poems on time, but I'm lazy and have yet to post them. Oh well. You'll see them soon enough.

And if your reading this, I see again what I once saw, and when your away I will lie no more for her tears will deserve the truth.

In 38 days,
things will be so rubixed that not a soul will truly know,
completely,
what to do with their life.
There will be those who claim they have things
all
figured out.
But you don't.
And truth be told
neither do they.
In one months time,
all the people you know will be
scattered across the four winds.

Some people make things black and White,
clean cut and clear,
smooth and precise as a blade in a misfits wrist.
Things are done on impulse,
without a second thought of if what they're doing
is right.
I'm somewhere in between.

In my head I walk streets of Fire.
Blazing,
burning flames not of pain,
but of realization,
and of illumination.
In my head it is always raining
and the drops pierce the siring tongues,
killing the flames slowly,
progressively.
In my head I walk streets of Fire,
and the fires are thick,
solid,
and I pick them like apples,
and gorge on the spiced flesh,
taking in their secrets.
In my head it is always raining
and drops wipe the slate of unpicked fruit,
and their secrets are lost
forever.
In my head I walk streets of Fire,
always aware,
that I might miss something divine.

Pardon me mam,
maybe I'm overstepping my boundaries here,
but can I ask you for a moments rest
from this constant stream of complaints,
grievances,
and exclaimed awareness of how god hates you,
and the whole Earth is against you.
Because,
and this just might be me,
but I think you have it a lot better off then you think.
Maybe the text message you sent your friends
about your parents is a good example of your suffering,
but the 500 dollar phone they bought you begs to differ.
I'm sorry your five pounds over weight,
but at least your not starving in Africa.
We have become cultured,
rich,
fat creatures,
angered by the mundane.
And as the world starves around us,
we sit back,
Popcorn butter staining our name-brand pants.

What a twisted walk I walk
I talk about the things I never even knew.
I know and no I don't want to keep on going
going going.
go.

Why must me leave
and keep on moving to the
flow. But the grief
will stop the soothing and I
know that our streets,
will never cross and truth we
will never meet,
were all tossed within the
flow.

Streets are flooded
full of people
walking nervous to their steeple.
Flooded.
People walking through the street and
to the service they will meet
and talk and.
Flooding Nervous.
Flooding Service.
People walking, People mocking,
flooding through the streets and talking.
Service.
Going on their marry way
to service on the sabbath day,
and people walking off to school to learn about the book of rules,
and people marching off to mock the actions of the working clock
and people going never knowing as they go they're caught within the
Flow.

Again I am reminded that life loves to kick you when your down,
and it always has,
and it will continue to,
and there's not a God damn Fucking thing I can do about it.
Things will always get worse.
Bad things will happen,
and Murphy didn't have a God Damn Fucking clue.
List of Realization:
The church will not save you.
The pills will not heal you.
The ears will not hear you.
The eyes will not see you.
The hearts will not feel you.
The girls will not fuck you.
The walls won't protect you,
The people won't love you.
The streets won't carry you.
The tools will not fix you.
And love,
love is so blind that half the time
it dips it's arrows in poison,
not potions.
And I know this,
and I've always known this,
and it's time to lie to myself again.

Preparation for prom.
Spent a lot of time will spend a lot of money.
Got a tux,
plain and cheap.
Like me.
Assumed being sized would be like molestation,
was more like a hug.
Thought I wouldn't get a date,
ended up with two.
Thought she would be ugly,
both are quite attractive.
Assumed I'd feel awkward,
I am actually quite comfortable.
This will be more money then I've spent in a while,
and it's all on things hat will last one day.
But still,
I feel satisfied.