So, y'know... this is bad... no, really; It is and you know it. But I wrote it late monday night when I couldnt sleep, and its really more excited gibberish than anything... still, I havent written anything for a real long time, so I figured I would let you all see it. ----------------------------------------
Humming with an exciting tension.
Vibrating through you.
Emotion. Instinct. Sensation.
Im humming it too.

Never have I felt this hum,
Like a single note
singing its strum

I hear your eternal sound,
When I hold you, I hear it loud.
It is wonderful, I have found
The thought 'I plucked it' makes me proud

Though I yet feel a different shake.
I still myself and listen;
It is a different sound I make.

Your note, lilting and clear,
My sound, strong and low.
So whenever you are near
A harmonious chord does flow.
-Simon
Sept 6th 2004
Dedicated to Simone

This would obviously work much better spoken, but that would require effort.
If it were to be performed ever, it would be ideal to have the parts played by an old man and a preteen type person.



'Hayskamp Aymbushed'
'Clockturn bedwise.' He says to me.
'Thinkback risewise,' The man goes on.
'Long time sky flies.' I try to hear
'heavenspecks demise n rise' words not just noises.
'A speck on a speck orbiting speck' meaning eludes me.
crazy old man. 'benighted juvenessence'

Simone tells me "we need to talk"... isnt this like THE phrase that shoves an ice pick in your spine? an ice pick, no less, MADE from ice. Even worse, I call and ask if its something scary. "it could be" Yeah.
Thing is... I have NO idea what it could be... I have no indication that anything is wrong, and worse still, I cant even think up a hypothetical that sounds convincing... Anyways, this is a crappy half-done first draft cause as I was writing this, a friend sends me an SMS telling me its something good... so I stop writing... only now i find out he says this because "he has a hunch"
*sigh*
anyways... these are the illogical fretted thoughts of a guy who has just recived his first ever "we need to talk"
==================
My dear, I fear you.
My sweet, hateful heat.

Ignorance was bliss,
But not knowing is a death kiss.


Trusting a stranger,
not to break my heart.
I realise with a shudder;
she may have a head start.

So Im thinking up words
in anticipation of hers,
and though I know not how I feel
I am ready to appeal


My dear, I fear you.
My sweet, hateful heat.

Ignorance was bliss,
But not knowing is a death kiss.


Tell me what it means...

The first thought that I had,
was concern for her.
The second was more sad;
no longer will we be together.


My dear, I fear you.
My sweet, hateful heat.

Ignorance was bliss,
But not knowing is a death kiss. 

Dont really know if youd call this a poem as such...

Dont really know if youd call this a poem as such...
Yes, I do still write, but these days its only when Im particularly inspired to do so, and generally arent anything to be proud of. This is no different, but the little burst of poetry in recent made me want to share something back. So I went for a rummage and this is what I came up with. A product of my latest depressive implosion. I feel better again now, so dont go getting sympathetic and pitiful for lil olde me now, mkay.
I have lost the will to live,
or maybe I never had it.
I dont remember ever wanting to.
Just fearing not to.
Too scared to make it *stop*...
Its cheating anyway:
If you have to suffer,
why should i not too?
I just want not to exist,
in any time and space.
Is that so *wrong* a thing?
But I dont know how,
and death is not the same.

So here I live without the will to.
Where every effort is torture.
Where escape is the only fun.
Refugee from reality.
Procrastination delays the end.
I dont know what to do with this unwanted life that doesnt love me.
I would give it to someone else.
I would deny it in the first place.
I would break my hand...
just to make something happen.
To avoid the work I have no passion for.
But rewards are for people who are different
who have passion and faith
who make efforts for them.
i have neither passion nor faith.
I have not the will nor the effort.

I feel doomed to fail.
To waste a life given me.
to only ever feel the echos
the shades of emotions:
Hate & Love
Happiness & Sadness
Anger & pride
The feelings I get are these:
fear depression guilt apathy disgust anxiety.
all directed at myself.
Not that *my* self is a very defined thing.
Why do I slump so low,
when all that happens is *life*?
when other people keep going, and making efforts?
I cant be bothered.
Not 'I dont want to'
I cant.
Sometimes I do want to do it.
Whatever "it" is... life.
But I cant. I try, and I fail.
I dont try and its just as bad.
I try again and determination fades and dies and I am left behind,
to try again; to motivate myself.
But I have no inertia.
No momentum.
And the world has so much friction to stop me again
every time
at any time.
So give me a life I can use,
or just gift me death.
I am beyond caring
which you choose.