Refresh my memory.

It's been a rough year.  I decided to tear myself out of my previous bad mood, by force if need be, and try to regain some sort of positive outlook on the future.  Let me regain  my thoughts and I'll start writing again.  Hopefully, I can make it worthwhile and honest.  Otherwise, what's the point?

I remember too much

I have been trying for so long to leave the destructive nature of myself behind. The simple truth is I cannot. I am destructive and vicious. I want nothing but to leave a path of obliteration behind me. I want to break everything down and stand alone in a field of ash and torn down monuments. I would say that I cannot help it but the truth is that I don't want to help it. I don't want to be other than what I am. I want to be that which casts a shadow over everything you thought you knew. I want to eat your memories and I want spew my bile and acid across your precious few lasting days. That is the little that I want and the most that I will take. Imagine this: a world in which my shadow will remain for all your lasting minutes a blight upon all that is holy and remembered by your life. Taste this bitter ash and wonder what would have become if only I had wanted for the light.

There are lies afoot

I speak for no one. No wait, I speak for me. There are people who are hurting friends of mine. People who are expecting me to do something. You should know that I would do anything. I would admit anything before a court of law to defend my people. If you attack the people that I protect I will break you down and tear tendons from bones and bleach the remains. I will remember all the words of professors and destroy you. Touch my people and i will come like an avenging angel, like snow in the dead of winter and darkness on the mountain top. I will hurt you slowly and break you down until bare bones remember nothing of the you that was. But I will remember, I will remember you and bare bleached bones in the cold night.

Doctor, there's a castle in my head (part four)

When there is a situation in my world that I don't know how to deal with, I retreat from it. I move into my interior world and live a life without flesh. I guess this is a point where I need to admit something. Part of the creation of this world is because I was once incarcerated in a psychiatric ward. There is nothing like be strapped to a gurney and left alone in a back corridor to be harrassed and molested by various people during the day and left alone with inmates at night. Helplessness is a fire. You burn up and there is nothing left but the very core of what you are. If you have ever wondered where my interior world comes from, well now you know.
I don't want to tell you any of this. I remember when I was in Florence, Italy, in the base of the Duomo. They were selling wooden rosaries and I bought one. I wound it around my hand and climbed up through the rat-like path to the top where I could look out over the city and beyond. All I wanted was a path, a sign-post to tell me where i was going. There was no such thing. All I could do was look down upon the city and the mist that enshrouded it. I decided then and there that I would create my own sign-posts and that the city I had created within my own head was the only true city in all the world. I stand and rise up with my own world and am pierced by the spikes of consciousness. I am laid out and forced to peer over the edge of the world that I have created. And that is okay. In all the darkness and derangement of my secret mind I have only one message: I would never trade this for any other reality. Take that, you foolish lie of a life. I can't but win.

Just a minor return to form.

I've been gone. Gone for a long time. There occurred many events almost all at once that matter to me in my life. As for now, let us concentrate on a simple thought. I love this country. The people, the places. We are a nation I can, and am, proud to be a part of. Because of this pride I have a simple message. This message goes out to our government. You had best be afraid. Be very afraid. We will not tolerate your evil much longer. We would have changed things a long while before now, but we so wanted to believe in your good intentions. You see, we tried to believe in your better nature for so long, like a mother trying to keep hope that her son has not gone bad. But we finally accept that you have gone bad, gone so bad that there is no return. And so we reject you. We reject your lies and your desperate assurances that 'this' time it will be okay. My vote will carry that weight and if my vote does not accomplish what needs to be accomplished, then I will violently overthrow you. I choose these words specifically because in legal terms they are considered treason. What I am saying here and now is that if the government is not changed immediately then, by your laws, the only true patriot would be considered treasonous. You have left me and the people who I would defend with my life no choice. You know that in the end, there is no government, only people, citizens who have the power. And you do not want to have to face that power. While it may be one nation under God, it is also one government under that nation. We can give, but we can also take away.

By what yardstick?

No matter what I do or who I become there will only be two great accomplishments in my life. The first is my birth, and the second is my death. With my birth I passed into the dream that is existence. There is no world but what I see and what I believe. Should I choose to disbelieve some part of existence I cannot. For, like Pandora's box, once I have seen the results of my dream they cannot be undone. The world is a turbulent place, full of strife and suffering, and for this I am sorry. But my mind is a storm and from a great distance it may seem organized, like a theory of chaos, in truth we are all on the ground. We cannot see anything from a great distance because we are here and we live in the passing of now. We can imagine what our lives might seem like from an objective viewpoint, but it is only that, the imagination of ourselves. A dream within a dream. Though we may all be here together on this planet, we are actually alone within the dream that each of us creates day by day, everyone simultaneuously a bit player in each others' play.

This is not real.

There is a box in a room, through a door, at the end of a hall.
In this room there is nothing but the box.
In the box are the secrets that I keep.
In the box are the things that I've done.
In the box are my memories.
I made the box.
I took a branch from every tree in the world.
A band of every metal.
A lock made of stone.
A hinge made of glass.
After a thousand years I was done.
Yesterday the box was full.
Today I woke up.
The box was gone.