Lazy from C-Z

What was painfully odd to me, at the beginning of the foray into the subliminal liposuction of my grossly incandescent professional transformation, was the slow and perspiring descent of lardy over there to graciously, and maybe even begrudgingly, accept me as one of their own. Kind of like a very long-winded induction-cum-hazing into the silly little microcosm of who-gives-a-fuck, making one wonder what was all that hullabaloo over these past few weeks were for; a haven for hypocrisy, perhaps, or self-doubt. It is somewhat reluctantly disenchanting to feel due to the manner with which it complicates my relationship with others and myself, first and foremost. This is precisely how I came to be, not the one I used to be, but the person I feel like I truly am; one that ceases to partake in the jests of pollution for fear of being taken for less than nothing. For however relief I feel compares to absolutely nothing when it finds itself accumulating into moulding rage at the back of my hea

So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So nervous. So n

Why can't I stay two places apart turning my life around? Am I not the same person who won't let go when the light shone out of the sound? Every step I take I lose my way The one who turns around will make me stay Now I can't lose a step When I found that one person who's right ( sorry for choosing you ) I gave them all my miles They don't have to thank me just hold on and fight ( counting my mind out of sight ) because I love you Every storm is close to chasing me But I'm halfway where I need to be Now I can't lose a step No way I can lose a step I can't lose a step Every step I take I lose my way The one who turns around will make me stay Now I can't lose a step No way I can lose a step I can't lose a step

The thrill of pursuit lives on. It is hardly a miracle to think of it as such. Most days I clamour the hunt and the chase and encumber myself with empty pockets upon return but such wealth to be had in the abstract. If I lose this game, will I lose myself? Or if I lose right now on my volition, will the scar heal in time? Such petty pessimism. If I order an upgrade to deluxe home-grown cynicism, would it all have been better? I play my own mind games, one with no actual victor. So every single time I get the excitement ahead of me, it just twirls in a loop; from joy to sorrow to scorn to joy to sorrow and to scorn again. Perhaps there is a reason, or perhaps there is none, or perhaps a show of life, or maybe a learning to live and lo... see what it does to me? Lost in the reveries of hope that never will be. Left hemisphere, right. You left and you were right. All apologies. I am... happy. No... for how long? It should not be. I... There is no inspiration to be had in pure bliss. My mi

When the bedroom door creaks at the sound of silence and the kitchen weeps when the knife kisses my finger crimson inside me Then love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again Where is my favourite coat? I never used to ask these things Because they just come when I least expect it when I'm not looking But love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again My phone screams for me to wake up The weather is nice The sun is up My countenance runs dry It's not the one The one I'm waiting for But love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again Love Love will tear me apart again

It is only now that I fully understand the implication of that last message. Finally a dot to end it all... I suppose. For what good is goodbye if the maybe still lingers? For me and them both. And somehow maybe it is best that I feel the disappointment this way. No contracts, no commitment, nothing to bind us with one another. Just another dowry piling up at the temple of wayward hearts. Now I need to accept another true fact: I will never be the one who knocks. I will never be one to win. I will never be one to succeed. All the efforts up to this point reduced to being just one amongst so many. Jack of all trades, mediocre of one. Functioning at this current stage proves inadequate. The sting still persists. I could do something to help ease the bruising, but there are not a lot of options. I could eat or drink or smoke or drug myself to oblivion, but that has never been my nature. Perhaps because this agony that I am marinating on is a relatively new feeling, if one considers half o

 Smile when your heart is aching when your wounds are bare when your fingers twitch and the nights are cold; Smile though no one is watching when nobody cares when the singers stop singing and the roads are barren; Smile like no one else dares so when you laugh the world starts laughing with you not to you because the moment you weep you will always weep alone.

Yes, that is right, the focus should strictly be on me. Your guile is unwavering, but I have had my fill of doubts, and so far it is only nesting its tendrils on to my being, biding its time, holding on to what is beyond, and to be honest I only give it a little bit of reprieve because it is somewhat harmless. For now, at least. There will come a time where I will need it, and there will also come a time when I need to fend myself in order to discard, but that is none of your concern. My wellbeing is a byproduct of my own environs. These stimuli is only here because of me; I asked for it. So it is best to venture out on my own. Always on my own. Best for me to be on my own. It will always be the case, no matter what happens. When I tried once to argue against my best judgement, it ended with defeat and utter humiliation. Scraps of it still visible to this very day. So fighting my own battles the best way I know how is to accept that some things will never be deterred, regardless of ho

Had I been slightly more careless, I could have attained a freedom I yearned for for so long, and yet I missed that opportunity by an inch. Do not fret , I tell myself, for time is of the essence . Ahh... as I sip my wine contemplating whether or not this new week will bring me bounty or heartache will be up to the clouds. It is always a gamble. You could say gambling was always on the cards. Every single time I have to take a modicum of risk I always remember my father, for he was the one who worked diligently in a casino in the past. But gambling has never been part of my system. Nowadays I hardly take any chances. Anything less than a hundred percent is a no-go. This is precisely why I have been holding myself back, weighing the options, seeing the woods for the trees, or are there anything beyond the wolves or the chupacabra lurking within the swamps? Should I or shouldn't I? Most of the time I do start to wonder which one of these two will come first: The delectable crashing a

Waking up from a lousy dream hits differently. Something is clearly wrong with my body, its physiology. The last time I have encountered this is through anxiety brought on by emotional trauma, and I despise it, it makes me seem weak in hindsight. Three people in a day, two simultaneously in the morning dooting my bells. It kind of hits differently. It kind of makes you not want to miss the one that is actually missing, for me the only one that truly matters. But it is already lost and would not want to be found. No matter how much I frolic like a dweeb at the sight of those doots, it matters very little when the purpose of it is inconsequential. I do not like it when things mean nothing. Why do I have to prove a concept like love while they simply have to just accept it? Every piece I give is one taken away from me. It takes its toll, and the payment is meagre, almost uncharacteristically and comically minute. It is trifling, because I do want reciprocity to be equal in its value. It n