and i am still here

and you are still there... sleeping no doubt, or sitting in silence... looking at the hour, when sleep covers most of the western hemisphere, i sit awake wondering why... why we do the things we do... why a child blows up another child... why a man soils his nest... why a woman helps him do it... why a leader does not give peace a chance... why a government for the people allows most of the people to fall farther and farther into debt-slavery... why a people allow the government to stand when it is so immersed in supporting a corporate world that it chews up and spits out a people... why self-destruction is so clearly the human way and why so many people would rather stick their heads in the sand and take it up the ass than face this fact... why we bother continuing to have children when we are destroying the world we leave them... why we empower fear over love...

and we still say... sweet dreams...

midnight questions

who am i talking to anyway?
imaginary readers?
potential friends in the physical world?
gonna run?
gonna hide?
gonna come out?
gonna come inside?
gonna let me in?
show me where you've been?
show me who you are?
now near, how far?
whatever, we are who, we are what, we are where
we are
we are
we are
we…
never mind the obvious child
wake me when we get to why...

hope and futility

after the hope fatigues, the futility laughs and claims the stage, but can we ever know which is real and which is illusion?

constant craving

and the previous post and so many (most, perhaps) suggest or even state clearly (as if i am ever truly clear amidst my babbling way) said, the craving for sharing, for intellectual, emotional, physical, and that undefinable ethereal stimulation is constant, insatiable, and expressed here once again as if we do not know already or somehow doubted it's constancy...perhaps it is the primary reason for the afterblog, this constant craving for more interaction, stimulation, input (ah, johnny five, i do understand... but do you?)...

latent consistency

if, in the end, i came here every night after everything else and wrote something meaningful, something profound, or even just something that i wanted to share, innocuous, personal, general, specific, serious, irreverence, nonsense, or whatever... something just for you, just before bed, just the curl up nod off sweet dreams thoughts that i leave in the custody of your arms as i sleep...

would it matter in the end if you missed an entry?

after the blogging is done

what can i do
what can i say
no one is here
it's been this way for so long now
i may have forgotten how
to share
but how to know with no one here

after the blogging is done

afterblog

after thousands of words I sit in silence and I wonder if anybody really gets me or even cares beyond the self-contained caring anyone can do alone... how much meaning is there in loving for the sake of loving, after all, we can not connect love and be sure of it if we do not truly know what/who we are loving... even if every word is read (and does that ever happen?), how well can we know each other?... how can we be much more than afterthoughts in the real life we live daily (unless the real life we live daily is as devoid of intimate knowledge and sharing as is the literary world online and then, do we even have a frame of reference to understand even the words in this entry?)...

perhaps I would not think so much if someone was here with me now, sharing the getting to know you process... but living alone, what else is there to do, after the blog...

not for the timid...

and who is not timid, after all...

bursting bubbles

With all the energy exploding in the magic of Harry Potter and the musical vibrations of Warped Tour, how could alone still be the state of being?. Too tired to be lonely, full of wonder and excitement and hope, but still, so still in a vacuum where people ought to be. The rules of grammar are made to be broken.

Bursting bubbles made of pickle juice and egg whites is not for the timid.

what's the point, really?

it's not despair or hopelessness, it's a very sober question... have you an answer?... what's the point if nobody heard?

reciprocation is not caring

so if I leave you a comment and you respond and I leave you another and you respond and I don't leave a comment for a few weeks and you respond by not responding and we sit in silence and then I leave another comment and you respond, is that caring?...

I don't think so...

and I ask

is it ego's folly or heart's dream to connect or mind's wish to communicate or meaningless drivel that leads one to feel a sense of loss, even a betrayal, when words left on the web, especially in comments to others, are deleted...

and someone asked

if one babbles [incoherently] and [irreverently] there's no one there to read it, does it then make sense?