my city

she sleeps on a bed of crumbled brick and stone. her veins flow with the last of the late night workers. they move through the roads with the sound of channeled wind, guided by eyes of white light. the city is restless. she is frail, yet young. wanting to show her beauty to everyone who may peak at it. under the cover of night she glints and glows with various lights of green, orange, red and blue. her make up. enticing all to gaze apon her, to take part in what she may have on offer. but as the sun lights her face from the east. the night disappears, and takes with it the cities masking colours. revealing the truth about her. misused and abused. weathered by years of neglect. she is scarred by the same people who love her. who feed her. who move through her veins. she is alive, trying to regenerate, but still only a shadow of what she once was.

Religion Where

oh god, where are we now? we seem to have lost all that we stand for. what are we doing here? what are we striving for? we are all walking blindly into the dark. is there something we are meant to follow, do or achieve? or are we just meant to survive? we walk aimlessly, step by step, following those before. practicing that what was told and preached. but we are not sure anymore. there is too much hurt, hate and violence to believe you still exist. we are watching lives, morals and values crumble everyday. and people still preach as though you are the one who will save. save us all. or at least the chosen few. the ones who fear the wrath of not listening. but there are millions who feel the wrath of a few who make this place hell. they dont know anything but suffering. yet you sit and watch, never intervene. cause faith is what gets us through. the thought of something better. an eternal bliss. a happy ending, but if you cant show any bliss now then why should we believe that there is something to hope for? why should we trust the word of men, written over time, that someone or something amazing will take care of us. when he cant even take care of us now? why should we devote our lives to servitude, when we cant even get a glimpse of who we should serve? maybe the times are changing. maybe we have outgrown the mentality. but its still hard to believe that you are a father. what kind of father would sit and watch his children bleed? without laying down a hand to try and stop it. he works in mysterious ways. true. ways that i will never understand. and to be honest, ways that i will never try to. way too much pain and suffering has been devoted to gods. gods that have never given the time to show themselves to the face of man.

Diary Quote of the Day

"we only think when we are confronted with a problem"- John Dewey -

well that right there is bullshit. cause i think all the time. its deafening. like living next to a very busy train station. especially when you are trying to sleep. cause even the quite things seem loud at night. like when you were young and tried to creep back into the house after sneaking out. you think you are stealthy but your folks are there ready to flip on the light switch. its kind of nice of them that they would let you go out and be naughty first though. rather than catch you on your way out and punish you before you have had any fun. but i digress. thought is a major part of my life. i dont really want it to be, but its there, and its one of those extremely hard habits to break. like a cigarette box that puts cigarettes in your mouth for you, before you even feel like having one. and then more often than not it replaces that one with a new one before you are done with it. its very demanding and consuming. and it must be stopped.

its the fear that got me here

where to start? there is so much in me that is wanting to get out, but i just dont know how. i sit with a pen and a pad for hours. but all i can do is make weird shapes and colour in the corners of the page. the frustration is making me ill! how long do i have to wait to find out what my time here is for? is this the only time i get? or do i have a second try? because it feels like i might be wasting this one. not on purpose. but because i am afraid to dive into the water without knowing what lies beneath it. is it deep or shallow? are there dangerous beasts? i know i can swim. but still i dip my toes in to test the water before i wade in knee deep. only to turn around and get my towel. all the while the other kids are splashing, playing and laughing.

Mind Diary

so a few more blank pages hey. i dont know what it is about writing, i really enjoy it. but quite often i get stumped by it. or just write meaningless babble. pretty much like right now. but i felt like i had to put something down. all the blank pages are blinding me. i have been living like a cross between hunter s. and bukowski recently. tons of self loathing, a lot of beer and an extremely negative outlook on my fellow men and woman. has this whole fucking world gone mad or am i just the only who does not see what the rest are seeing. perhaps this is why i have been blinding myself with drink and far too little sleep. numbing my brain so it cant see the daily waste and hatred all around me. where has all the love gone? i often wonder if it was ever there to begin with. maybe it was just made up in the mind of a dreamer. who handed it down to other dreamers. but i dont see it. i dont feel it. i feel the lack of it. but never the real thing. could it be that i have been broken too many times and that part of me just does not register anymore?