The Space To Run

I don't think this blog format works very well for longer pieces, so here is The Space To Run on my dA account.

Trying Too Hard To Be Immortal

Another one from 2011 that I finished recently.

Trying Too Hard To Be Immortal

I whispered to the world

And said my secrets safe with you

Closed my eyes and turned

A golden key

Laid down to rest

But somehow

The earth had found

A way to be untrue

My secrets never mattered

To a mother cold as you

And no matter how I wished

Beneath stars or sinking moon

Not an answer

Just a promise

Of an ending coming soon

So I wandered through a thousand lives

And lived them one by one

Closed my eyes

They slipped away

I forgot where I'd begun

The Road Is Moving

Don't let life beat you into thinking there are rules you have to follow. You get one life - this is it. If you really want something, don't give up; fight for it, take it.

I turn around

But nothing's there

We're running so fast

We forget where

I've gone so far in this lifeline

I need a new life

But where to start from?

We've been here so long

After awhile

We forget the beauty

Of the moment, the unknown

It's burning right through me

I gave you time

Time didn't care

Now who's waiting

Who's around the corner?

We're so far past a dead end

Feels like a start to forever

Where am I going?

The road is moving

After awhile

We forget the beauty

Of the moment, the unknown

It's burning right through me

Boldly

Going through the past 6 months of random stuff.

Boldly

As the moon rose

As the trees spoke

Swaying smoothly as the heart

With a beat that is red

and delicious

With fire coursing

and melting

Its way through time

Our fire, we felt

We cried that it belonged to us

But time and fire

Never knew our names

Our precious youth

and hidden games

That vanish, untraced

Yet we lay, boldly

Beneath the stars

Surrounded by emptiness

and beauty

For a moment

Boundaries

Its been far, far too long since I've posted here. Thanks for reading. This one's for those who love, who hate, whose fantasies can and will never be reality.

Boundaries

Hands and fingers feeling down

Cross the boundaries I laid

Sparks shatter my soundless world

Fulfill the wish I should have made

I want to feel like this forever

Lost in your loud world, all color

Dreaming through a lonely vessel

Living just to touch each other

Watch the dark hide your desires

Wrap yourself in reds and yellows

Lay yourself across my threshold

Forget the world and all its troubles

But time was slow and we were fast

Our fears rained down to drown our flames

We passed the day, refused the night

I thought of you and laughed and cried

All that's left this thread of words

It's strong enough to pull you in

Or tie me up, make you a prison

I watch your mouth, it cuts my hands

Time will cut you down

You know the thing about writing is it's tough. Inspiration isn't real hard for me, but doing the actual writing, putting the words together, that's the hard part. Over the past 5 years or so I've written some pretty varied material from sci-fi and fantasy to transgressive type fiction and even political articles.

The main thing is time.

Time to just sit and think about what I want to say, how to turn an idea that may or may not have any worth into something readable. I think this is the most prevalent problem facing me as a writer, but I think our society makes time difficult. Everything has become so constant now, constant updates, constant stimulation, that it becomes difficult to break off and actually get things accomplished that take more than a few minutes. Reading books, actually sitting down and listening to music, just walking around and letting silence fill the void of existence.

A certain place I lived at college had a shuttle bus that took me to campus every day. The ride was about 15 minutes or so, but it was usually 15 minutes in which I could just sit back and listen to music without being bothered by anything else (except of course the occasional really annoying girl that felt it necessary to pour out her problems to the bus driver, who I felt very sorry for). I actually looked forward to this time to myself. I was waiting to get somewhere, but at the same time it didn't matter to me because I had my music and my thoughts and that was more important than where the bus was going.

Similarly, if I want to write I find that I am forced to have a time of nothing but writing and thinking. Sitting down with a notebook, a pen, and a beer. In this day and age that can be difficult, but it isn't a lost cause.