Dress for Success

Down to two. We fight until the end. Not to death, but until the one may concede to the superior. It is not battle of wits, strength or might. We do it for the fun. For the one to be called superior is only the victor, to whom go the unproducible spoils. I refuse to lose, but today, I'd love to see you win. This will be a tragic upset to all parties and bystanders as the rules and practices become increasingly confusing. Behold, the power of the know. Where the unknown meets the truth of the world. And where the light and the dark fuse to become the universe in every mind.

Confusion Follows the Tail

Just how often I become confused is quite daunting. As time slowly progresses and more and more people join the mix of my thoughts, what am I supposed to think. I lose ideas of how I am supposed to function. One hour I am angry, the next I am asleep, the next I have lost focus in my day. And all through this I am in love. When are emotions good?

The Trials of Pilate

There is a weakness that shoots through my core. There is nothing left within me that can support my thoughts and my feelings. But somehow, there is a thin wall that still keeps everything enclosed. Small holes exist, and drifts escape from time to time. They're minuscule, a seamless in steady conversation. However, the fear still remains of whether this wild sea of thought, brewing and boiling within my skull, will burn through these holes of frustration and flow upon unsuspecting bystander. Or worse, the person who will understand the pain. I tend to underestimate myself. I have a low self-regard, and in time we will see exactly how reality plays out. I trust that despite my judgment my thoughts will stay my own, and the world shall return to its equilibrium.

Terror in the Face of Darkness

At moments when one is at the brink of tears, one takes into perspective what brought him to this position. Love, pain, anger or happiness. Love and happiness produce the lightest tears. Ones that flow with ease and don't hurt as the dribble down through the tear ducts. Tears of pain and anger amplify the hurt, only putting an added atop your aching soul.

Tears. They slowly and with great emotion drag down the narrows of your face picking up any more feelings. Once they reach their destination, a world is either added or lifted from one's shoulders.

Laughter

The blood shall rain from the sky. The era of the "New Gods" is upon us. No longer shall man conform to the simplicity of collectivism and the swarm effect of judgment. Lament! All those who oppose this new reign. Lament! All those who believe this day was not upon humanity. Lament! All those who faulter in the way of light and reason. Lament! Those who remain secluded to the dark. For those who shall not follow the ways of the "New Gods" shall only watch their beings crumble under the change of scene and scope of human drive. We have found a new path, and it leads us to the promise of good hope for the will of man to find peace in the seclusion of thought and soul. Let no man come upon you with thoughts of insubordinate behavior against the "New Gods" for through these men only comes the possibility of defeat in the coming shift of might. The gravity of this advantageous event shall be the advent of love.

The Sulfur in the Air

The scent stings the walls of your sinuses. The burning of sulfur and the fumes of production are all present as the children play. The world is so grey now. Concrete and asphalt line the walls of every building, and the cold sheen of steel is the base for every machine. Grey. The neutral of the world, has now taken over the emotions of man as people no longer see in color, but in hues of black and white. People have learned to see only a single facade of a situation, only the black and whites of the world. However, when it comes to decisional thinking, seeing only in black and white, will distort the actuality of all situations. People, who do not see every single color and perspective of a situation are not suit to make a decision.

Laser Light Show

The freedom of will is granted to all the sentient beings of our fair earth. With respect to humanity, allow me to plea, all your freedoms should not be wasted on your insecurities. Allow yourself to live and think to the extent your will is granted. Be without restraint and allow your mind and body to move through the universe. The mind is a terrible thing to release. I have made a bad mistake, no words that I type make much sense in my many redundancies.

Never Let The Bad Stuff Get You Down

In life, the opportunities may be few, but they are visible to everyone. Challenge yourself to push into new fields and places you never expected. The best surprise is from yourself, where you can say, "I did it."
Never regret what you have done or said. Words you take back are words wasted and torn from your own understanding of a situation. If you say something you don' t mean, but it happened in the moment, apologize, but refuse to take back a statement. Everything you utter is a representation of your own psychology and grasp of life. Things happen for a reason, never necessarily the best of reasons but "Whatever goes down, will help you." Never underestimate the powers of chance.

Sublime Dutiful Needs

I can see the blood rush, and the consciousness drip away. With ever exertion of might and will, nothing can carry him past the line to the finish. Each step comes down harder than the last. His feet begin to drag and the limbs slowly become lifeless, just an addition of dead weight as the legs drag the torso around. Nothing in his eyes but emptiness like the ground around him. Colored, but without soul, his eyes show only his strife. I can see him near the end. Nothing still. His exhaustion can be seen in every little part of his existence. All he wants to do is stop, collapse and rest for eternity. No physical strain is worth this pain.

Blindspot

From whatever may flew in these pure words only emerges as the thoughts come. The muses guide the hands the fall upon the keys that type. Letters click across the screen, and the only true thing in the world is the words that are formed. This procession of thought is uncontrolled and at times redundant in its emphasis. My will is my own. And the words, they come from my hands. But each letter that is chosen to form these sentence is nothing more than inspiration granted by chance.

The Glowing Orange Street Lights

I'm alone. The bus has rushed away as I am left standing in the middle of the road, looking onto an empty procession of glowing street lights. My path has an orange guide.
The leafless trees stand firm as the freezing breeze whistles through the rounds of my ears.
4:22 am. Storefronts, lit up with darkness, line the street.
4:25 am. My thoughts are my own, however, spoken aloud.
4:29 am. The hum of the waking highway can be heard through the crisp early morning air.
4:31 am. This endless straightaway shoots on for infinity.
4:41 am. The street curves.
4:45 am. The dark residences of people emulate the sky. Empty. Black.
4:47 am. A sign of life, a single car creeps up behind me.
4:48 am. The green beast has sped away.
4:51 am. Turn right.
4:56 am. Turn left.
4:57 am. My street. My neighborhood. Flat and quiet, only the breeze can be heard rustling through the square hedges of front lawns.
5:01 am. Home, through the window and onto the couch.
5:05 am. Bathroom, change of clothes then bed.
Sweet sweet sleep.

Counting Bricks

The streets are filled with the zombies of humanity.
San Francisco. 3:24 am. Waiting.
The streetcar will never come. The bus always refuse to run.
Life here is never in one's favor.
3:26 am. A homeless man prospects a trade. No dice.
3:27 am. He realizes his follies and inches away in his bulky brown coat.
3:28 am. I can still smell him in the moist air of the freshly hosed down streets.
3:29 am. My eyes are being forced open by the sheer frost of the cold.
3:30 am. I'm still awake?
3:37 am. Cop after cop rolls down Market Street.
3:39 am. Another man stands at the stop. Just as cold. But with worse balance. Should I fear him?
3:42 am. No. He's gone. Should I have?
3:43 am. This is no time for thinking, my brain is dead.
3:45 am. A roller bladder in short-shorts? Who is this guy rocking out to his iPod in the middle of Market Street?
3:48 am. I can see it. But it feels so far away. This is the first part of my journey, I still have the long walk of solemnization in time.
3:50 am. $1.50 to the bus. I'm alone. But I'll be home soon.
4:00 am. Walk up, no sleeping yet. That's saved for another day.
4:12 am. What? Did I miss my stop? I need to stay awake. Damn this lulling bus.
4:18 am. West Portal. My gateway to my residence.
4:19 am. The inner city was a warmer place.
4:20 am. Lets begin part two.