you can swim along

i had my first true lucid dream experience while napping today, and got unreasonably excited.

i was dreaming about my di team, seeing as i have been spending more time than usual with them (our competition is this weekend) and i shan't tell you all of the details coming up to the lucid moment, but i think this part is funny.

i had cookies for team members, but i didn't have enough for everyone, so as i handed out the last cookie, i felt bad, and just made the giving had gesture to one of my teammates, and they took the invisible cookie and pantomimed biting it, and had the thought, "oh right, it doesn't matter if i have cookies or not, it's a dream."

"wait, i'm dreaming."

"i know i'm dreaming! i'm lucid dreaming! i can do whatever i want!"

and suddenly the road that was by us began to look a little the science of sleep-esque (which made me feel silly) and once i began to try to control everything i woke up.

i want to do this again, for real. and not wake up, and do everything and anything.

i have dreamt before knowing i was dreaming, but i always just let the dream be a dream, and never realized i was lucid dreaming, which i guess isn't really lucid reaming, right? who knows.

but i was very excited about this.

[how many times do you fly
unafraid to fall back down?]

((the dream i was having before i started my story
makes me question myself and my life so much
and i can't tell, in that way that i am
but oh how i want some answers from my subconcious))

i imagine waking up early from a lucid dream may be much the same feeling as premature ejaculation.
very anticlimactic.
i just thought of that comparison and needed to put it somewhere.
although i have never done the latter...i imagine it is like the first. sort of.


we'll see.

i'm spending so much more time alone now.
so much.

i don't know if i mind it.

"the more an equal a relationship is, the more comfortable it becomes."

i am beginning to realize that none of my relationships are equal. and that none of them probably ever will be. either i consider someone a much bigger influence in my life than they will ever consider me, or the opposite. i either love someone more, or in a different way, than they will ever love me...or i cannot love them as much or in the same way as they do me.

i cannot be what people need from me or they cannot be what i need from them.


that's fine.

i just wish i could find a perfectly balanced relationship in which i knew exactly what they wanted and could give it to them, and they would try to do the same for me.

"i do it for you
because i know that you'll do the same for me one day."


three parts to poetry


i didn’t sleep well last night
well, i guess my sleep was decent
once i got to it.
it just took awhile

so many things i couldn’t shut off

far beyond the light in the hall
or the fan, its noise constant, purring.

too many things i couldn’t shut off.

i just lay there, eyes glued to this
one little spot on the ceiling
where once i had tried to hang something
and it fell


It was a terrible dream.
I was just lying there, on that bed,
defensive and helpless.
I needed to yell, scream,
call for help.

I opened my mouth wide,
felt my throat tense up in
Wild anticipation of sound.

Nothing came out.

I screamed silence.


I awoke crying,
clutching the blankets with tight fists,
screaming out loud to the world
for mercy.

Nobody knew;
a midafternoon nap in an empty house.

I don’t even know
what I was dreaming.

But oh God how it frightened me.

(three part poetical series on my sleep patterns.
sleep, it seems, has been a constant theme throughout my poetry.
fuck love and heartbreak and pretty sunrises and flowers and metaphor.
i write about fucking sleep, man.)


the best thing

realizing that sometimes, nothing needs to be said.

and the silence is not empty.


so vain.

something i said that was endearing:

"it's not really love;
it's just an overwhelming urge to spoon."


lucubration and big words

so i am back to questioning reality, this is childhood, this was my pastime, wondering about things
if i touch it can i feel it, are we all sure?
and who where what am i, really, really, what is it?
is my mind completely operative and completely sound and completely sane or are these just floating heads
are these just stitches in the fabric
is this just an idea with no foundation and no pretend and no beginning

we all must question reality

"it's the small suicides that keep us sane"

and these thoughts that roam around my head with no placement, these quotes without an author
where do they come from?

it is when my mind is clear that it is most filled.



i always feel like i will hate myself tomorrow for this late night habit i am developing...and not napping.

but oh there are so many thoughts i want to think.

you know, i thought i needed some time off of life to work through everything. and i realized when i kind of got it that
- it doesn't really solve anything
- it creates more time for introspection which is where half my problems come from anyway
- one cannot truly take time off of life

(the song is done, that was my timer
good night, moon)


the saddest thing

realizing there is absolutely nothing left to say while talking to someone who you used to have charming, witty, meaningful conversation with


and neither of you really know what to do to fill the empty space.


he called it melancholia

this is an edit from the day after...
and all i have to say is "not all the time"
and sometimes i say things that i'm not sure i'm proud of.
now on to the entry i'm not sure i'm proud of.

i'm so sad all the time
so disconnected
so sad all the time
and i don't want to be so sad all the time anymore
and i don't want to do anything to change it

even the happy songs make me sad
if i even bother listening to them
but it's really the sad songs i listen to now
and why?
why do i perpetuate this emotion
that i'm not sure if i'm fond of?

but maybe that's it, then
maybe i am so fond of feeling this sadness
that, even though it is not generally regarded as a good emotion,
i don't bother escaping it

and in some sort of twisted way, i like it.

"were you so sad then, on the day of 44 sunsets?"

(but i don't like it
and i want things
to go back to
how they were
before all of this)

...were you sad too when you realized what had died; it's gone; i'm not sure if it can be rebuilt


far leys.

maybe i'm in love with nick drake because he'll stay up late with me even after everyone else goes.

i've been in a bit of a melancholy state lately, but candy-coated with that feeling of being with people. school does that to me. i'm so...so whatever it is, but then i'm in a crowd of people and although the melancholy doesn't go away, it is covered up quite nicely.

i'm going to hate myself tomorrow morning.

writing music is oh so difficult, but i'm trying. and making progress, amazingly. nothing spectacular. nothing good. but it's music that i've written, lyrics that i've written, and that's a good feeling.

the neighbors are yelling. i can't wait to get out of here. my family, my neighbors. i'm done with this.
and yet i don't want to leave. just for the sake of habit, for the fact that i finally got comfortable in a house.

eh, fuck this.

what the hell am i going to do -
and i'll leave it at that.

(lifting the mask from a local clown, feeling down like him
seeing the line in a station bar, travelling far in sin
sailing downstairs to the northern line, watching the shine of the shoes
hearing the trials of the people there, who's to care if they lose?

take a look you may see me on the ground
for i am the parasite of this town)