| "I don't even know why I keep doing this;" |
[04 May 2006|09:33am] |
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2/05/06
"Silence can be deafening;"
Every day the wind still hasn't lost its painful bite. It sharpens its teeth on my nose and cheeks, as well as my hands. The sunsets are something worth stopping for and admiring. The days are fairly tolerable for the most part.
A piece of me is growing inside of another, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't more than partially curious about it.
It will never have a chance, but it has already been mourned.
Half limping and stumbling down alley ways, the walls have the archaic look of smeared blood.
Filth and grime line the outsides of your path. Tiny particles of sand and grit.
I still continue my awkward march onwards, contending the hateful weather.
No one knowing where I am right now is a comfort that I'm incredibly greatful for.
They say the ice-age ended years ago, then why are there still icicles every where?
The clouds are swimming with the undulant refections of the dead that was left by winter. The people passing by me look so deeply in concentration as they're buried in their jackets, hats, and scarves. They all wear the kind of expressionless faces that people have when walking in public; the "No face."
Sometimes I stare curiously, most of the time I'm one of them.
I keep walking.
10:37 pm
-Clinton Hate
2/07/06
"When things are awry;"
I deserved everything you wrote.
Staring out the window at the snow falling outside, I see the petals of winter's fire. Pausing for only a moment to watch the flurries as they drift from the sky, smiling slightly. In the brief times such as these you can forget everything physical or otherwise, if things came awry. Unconsciously following my feet on the snow covered sidewalk, I wonder if my foot prints will still be there the following morning. Mid-day. Afernoon. Night. The next day? This has no significance or impact.
I glance up at the place my unborn will eternally rest. Blanketed in flames and turned in to soft and crumbling ash.
My eyes fall back down to the ground. Winter's been the hardest fight.
I've always wanted it, and I'll say it now:
Take hold of your time Here, not your end.
I'll say it now:
Hurting the one with sincerity, she makes motion when she cries, making everything so much less bright.
The second blow was unintentionally struck.
"Are they ever, Silly boy," spoke up again for the first time in nearly a year and a half and a country away.
I wasn't thrilled to hear its mocking and matter-o-fact voice again.
I've been off work for nearly three hours, I should be far past exhaustion by now, but I am not.
Wandering these streets completely devoid of life, the frigid weather keeps me company. When my personality toughened to scar tissue, it was completely unaware.
I'll say it again now:
'Give some meaning to your means, not your end.'
I'm erring on this side of caution, betraying no other symptom.
I'll say it again:
I can pretend like no one else, but I'm not. Never here.
The taste buds on my tongue are screaming as the smoke violently smothers the life out of them.
I'll say it now:
I'm sort of trembling like a lion's cage.
"I can't believe I still love you, even after this."
I came in to this world with nothing more that paper, rope, and a shadow. Find ways to apply ink by whatever means. Light has been cast on a peculiarly misshapen pile that we will call a boy.
What is still by my side should have taken its leave, and spat backwards.
Say it now:
If things come alive, I'll subtract your pain by the ounces.
I know this particular side isn't the easiest by any means, but a third blow will not be cast.
Not by my hand.
9:08 am
-Clinton Hate
"She laid on my chest & her breathing filled me almost to beyond what I could hold."
3/01/06
"This is-
Today's one of those days that I can't bear to look myself in the eye.
So I imagine this is how I am without you.
Glued to this seat, and my eyes fixed on the ground, where my feet do not feel connected to anything.
It took concentration to realize that my entire body was quivering.
My hands were tightly grasped to my head.
This can't be good, it just can't.
Why do things insist on making my weak body so much more feeble?
My constant rings in my ears and I am in complete emotional shock.
10 pm.
-Clinton Hate
3/27/06
-Inconsolable-
I was swaying back and forth as I stupidly walked down the street. I started crying those laughing kind of tears, and I was completely uncertain, but I was smiling as four months of memories ran through my head.
I kept doing that stumbling kind of walk, completely sure that I was going to collapse.
For a split second, I was utterly absorbed.
All I wanted in the entire world was for her to be in my arms.
It was too much at that moment and I so desperately needed to be clutched to something for dear life.
A scream sat poised in my chest, eagerly ready to spring from my mouth.
My heart's racingracingracing.
Something's flimsy in my knees.
I sit here scribbling this with a restless hand.
I cannot seem to get rid of this alien shudder.
Nothing coming out of this pen is satisfying to this unexplainable surge of emotion and doubt.
I need to be a million miles away from here right now.
11pm
-Clinton Hate
4/1/06
-MADNESS."
Who really knows where to start with things like this anymore? This. What more would you have me tell you? I imagine you're searching for a more slightly specific reason than "this." I do know know what you would have me tell you.
Are you expecting clarity?
A happy ending?
The hero always comes along at that last questionable minute of figuring out whether or not humanity is head to head with it's impending doom, or it's going to be typically redeemed;
Saved.
Rescued.
Being jerked back, just in the nick of time, to be scolded yet again.
To shamefully climb back up to that high horse you've gotten so comfortably seated in.
There are no longer and saddles, just the bare, knotted, back of the malnourished animal that you so proudly ride upon.
Your steed, and the imprints of the molded indentions your ass scathingly planted in to it's back, without notice.
You just thought you were were only getting more inconsiderately comfortable.
Oh!! How charming is your negligence!!
Stop concentrating on the clippoty-clop of the horse's hooves on the concrete.
PLEASE
Really, only a fraction of your time is needed!
PLEASE
Yes, this is necessary.
PLEASE
This is only a brief overview!
There is it, did you hear it? It's faint, just be still, this will only take a second.
Bare with me.
That sound; the series of movements and actions that led to this travesty I been so imperatively talking about.
It's the sicking sound of your limbs beginning to grow loose and collapse. Though the beast you depended upon for so long is weary and thin, it is the macabre noise of your bones being broken and your organs being crushed underneath the layers of torn skin as they trample you.
By this time, I would guess that you'd be seething with confusion and what you're more than likely going to call unmistakable betrayal.
The dirt caked street is being imbued with the vibrant color of your blood. Crimson vitality.
Your last clear memory, sound, is the jagged chipping of stone as they carve out your epitaph.
I know to an extent that there's been that vague and unexplainable rage lying dormant in me. Hatred deep and solid, seemingly materializing out of nothing at all. Perhaps I'm trying too hard to explain something that I cannot possibly hope to attain to describe with any of these words that desperately follow one after another. An anger of such disasterous magnitude entirely coating what lies within the tiny vessel that I am.
Of fire and will.
Of Brimstone, impatient and neverending.
The derelict of hellfire that eagerly follows, though it can't recall exactly when the "beginning" began.
It's impossible to try and account for something like this without sounding cliche' and false.
Like everyone else.
It's all been done before, yet we still seek out new ways to do it again. Perhaps it's me, or my lacking ability to be content and patient with nearly everything that I encounter or atleast matters of great importance.
In the passing weeks I've been stumbling to keep pace with who I am. The more my grip weakens, I drift in to an unscupulous type of sedation.
The exhaustion that's been piling up under my eyes has become noticeable.
This contemporary state of being is a paradox that insists on continuing in these constant loops.
I don't think I've ever felt something so tremendously heavy in my entire life.
10:52 am
-Clinton Hate
Dear God, just looking at the amount of things that've changed in the passing months is shocking to say the least.
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[30 Jan 2006|12:21am] |
So here's your fucking inspiration, take a picture and don't forget to smile.
This elevator never looked so empty as I leaned piled in to the corner.
-Clinton Hate
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| "Just don't take it back" |
[24 Jan 2006|01:41am] |
-I do not know what you would have me write, so this will do for now.
12/02/05
I am spit and grit and scum. I came as dirt and I came as a surprise. Everyone in my entire family has died of cancer, and I smoke entirely too much. I play out nearly every situation in my head as a dramatic monologue.
It's really hard to surprise me these days.
I used to be a lot different, I promise.
I cherish those that are close to me in my life. I am a loyal friend. I am sick of bullshit. I get excited very easily. I fancy a lot of ideas,"at the moment." A lot of people love to hate me; it's a fact. There is rarely any median in my life.
People should not look up to me.
Sometimes I cry. I smile and laugh randomly a lot. Spontaneousness is a large part of a life that I used to life; it comes back sometimes.
Yes, I have piercing on my face and neck.
Yes, I have visible tattoos.
Yes, my hair is dyed.
I like to listen to my music obnoxiously loud. The head-phones are not implanted to my head, despite popular belief. I really like bright colors. I'm clumsy. I walk with my arms tucked to my chest sometimes. I love hot steam after showers, but I hate that you can't see in the mirror.
I DO NOT KNOW WHERE I AM GOING WITH MY LIFE.
I can't remember when this started. I day dream a lot. I have been in love three times. A lot of people tell me I'm childish.
I'm savage.
I am wrath.
I'm selfish.
I'm realy nice, I swear I am, just consider this a warning I suppose. I'm quiet most of the time. I'll outlast all of you. The sun makes me sick to my stomach. I get distracted easily. My hands have an unsteady shake. Sometimes I can be witty. I talk to myself regularly.
I'm a pro at the air guitar.
I make a lot of odd noises. I scream all the time, even if no one else can hear.
I bet I could make you smile.
I'm fickle. I rarely think outside of a twenty-four hour time span. I'm overly emotional. I'm reckless and destructive to myself and my surroundings. I'm far too curious for my own good. I've made several trips to hell and back. I will not die without any scars. I've been to the top of the world.
Heaven is definitely in the midwest.
I mumble too much.
I steal other people's pens and lighters on accident.
I'm something epic, you just wait and see.
I'm unsure of myself and others, and I have lost faith in everyone. I am the strongest person I know. I am my own downfall, as humans usually are with themselves.
I get tired earlier these days. I LOVE days that are lazy, with overcast, gloom, and heavy rain.
I think swingsets are my favorite. I wish on shooting stars all of the time. I am normally alone.
I'm praying that you can close your eyes and join me in some of these places.
I interrupt people while they're talking. I'm always lost in these pages. I don't wear clothes unless I have to. I never know what I'm going to do when I wake up in the morning or at any given part of the day.
Love forever, love is free. Don't quit yet.
I have the most uncanny way of pushing people to see what they're made of with a smile. I am rarely satisfied with ANYTHING;
Always wanting
More.
MORE.
MORE.
I always try to dress to kill. Each new movement, sound, touch, and look can carry lifetimes of impact. I almost never remember to say thank you for things, it's nothing personal, and the appreciation is never forgotten.
I lose things that could've been in my hand no more than five seconds prior to them going MIA.
Sometimes I have terrible social anxiety.
I have low self-confidence and self-esteem in most circumstances, even though often times it is never noticeable.
I'll let you see anything you want when you look at me.
I'll scream til' the end of the world.
SOMETIMES I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE.
Sometimes the best in relationships were left in the bedroom sheets.
I can forget what I'm doing in the middle of the things.
I think matches are classy, but lighters are more useful and convienant.
This is more than likely a waste of time.
I can be endlessly disappointing.
I normally hide my face when I laugh.
When I want something, I open and close my hands like an infant. I never notice when I do this anymore.
I'm an addict.
I'm being way too honest right now.
My head is always swarming with thoughts as my chest has an uncertain shudder.
I lost my way once, and I'm not so sure that I ever found my way back.
No one knows the trouble that I've been in.
I have no limits and never know when it's appropriate to call it quits.
When enough is enough.
I have a sweet sixteen.
I definitely have to close one eye in order to stay coordinated enough to write this.
I've got a hundred proof woman.
I want to make you quiver. I want to make you feel fucking complete.
(-Inaudible- noises that sound a lot like words.)
I'm still trying my best.
I think christmas lights should be on trees year round.
I HAVE A CHOICE.
I'm worthless.
I think this is done now.
4:45 p.m.
-Clinton Hate
This was one of the hardest things that I've ever written.
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| "And these are the reasons I can't sleep at night;" |
[29 Dec 2005|07:27am] |
(This is old, so obviously, as always, things change drastically. I have something that I wake up for every day now.)
11/14/05
"I get lost with you."-Love always, Alexis.
Something's starting today, where did he go, why you wanted to be? Well you know, november has come when it's gone away..
-It's always after the second time, as you dust yourself off, that you can laugh a little.
You're more than likely driving home, listening to it as I write this, while the tears drop like bombs, trying to sabotage these words.
I don't have to listen to it this time as the plane lifts off, leaving me weightless.
I still hear it note for note.
"Oh, Clinton, where are you living now? Fuck, I don't know, Washington or something," runs through your head as you realize that you can't recall just how many times your parents have asked you that question.
You brush it off lightly and keep that enthusiastic and excited smile that's devouring your face, on, for the love of Christ.
That's right, push it out of your head...
As my eyes roll back in to my skull I remember a blinding white in the time that I forgot to breathe.
I want to scream.
Every hair on my entire body is standing rigidly on end.
Breaking on through to the other side, it's going to be a long and bumpy night.
It's snowing outside right now.
It's snowing in my nose too.
There're two joints in my pack of smokes.
My arm's throbbing with new color.
TARRED AND FEATHERED; drug around once again for all to see.
Dear God, help. I'M GETTING A LITTLE ROUGH AROUND THE EDGES AGAIN.
Driving, the car starts to spin a little sideways as we fish-tailed up the hill.
I double over and clench my thighs as my mid-section is seized in dry heaves.
The stereo screaming, "ATTACK!"
"Breathe s l o w."
I can't remember when the last time I slept.
I haven't been to work in four days, I only called out for two.
It's always nice to see Mr. Jackson rolled cylinder style, ready to first-hand greet everyone in the room through their faces.
Their nasal cavities.
This is such nonsense.
The open space of this room is devouring what sanity remains in my head.
PANTPANT.
GASPGASP.
Revisiting that old little town, U.S.A, your time has come to see that there's nothing you believe you want, but where were you when it all came down on me? Did you call on me then?
I took a walk and it was chilly out this evening.
4:10 am
-Clinton Hate
-It speaks for itself.
-Bright light, white light.
-And sometimes this shit just happens.
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| gothefuckawayplease. |
[27 Dec 2005|08:17pm] |
This time, there were no screams.
Only fire.
THEN NOTHING.
Nothing put me in this mood.
When I woke up, the clouds were already black.
The rain was already pouring down onto my head.
Smashing, lashing, slashing, for the same thing!
I say quit, while we are heard.
A victim of high tension, and beat me every day.
This is coming to destruction, you see everything is cross-eyed.
Today's forecast is partially livid with random showers of uncertainty. This is all ephemeral. A melancholy town, where we never smile. My dreams have to kiss, because I don't get sleep, no...
Someplace far away, at some sad table littered with chipped plates, with bad light in forty-eight frames from a movie on the cutting room floor, you said, "true meaning would be dying with you," and though I wanted to, I did not smile.
1:36 am
-Clinton Hate
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