Lazy from C-Z

My head has been going on a neverending pirouette all day. Like having a massive weight from my head all the way down just underneath where my heart is. Like it is dangling there with barely any sort of string attached, alternating movement left and right like a pendulum. Like having a massive meal for lunch and not being able to eat for dinner, making me diminish whatever is left of my appetite. And it reminds me that my days ahead already are days gone.  No one can fathom how much tension and frustration has been building up inside me lately, and no matter how much I try to convince myself that the light trickling intermittently inside me supplants the dark that is accumulating steadily, the truth of the matter is that the law of attraction, which purports that my thoughts have the uncanny ability to manifest things in my life, is just a silly madeup load of shit that people came up with to feel better about themselves. It would feel so much easier for me when my delusions slowly eve

No one realises the extent of the deep-seated loathing I have for mouthbreathers who think I am vulnerable just because I bandy myself around like a commoncloth slave of my own volition. I simply have a preference for avoiding any trivial interactions, which is tantamount to me being able to have an ounce of dignity kept intact under the auspices of the mental acrobatics I have to exert in order to keep a semblance of some sanity, so, in that way, I allow myself to run amok with my assuring self-reliance and knack of steering clear of any sort of building confrontations. But some dolts just have the gall, no matter how hard you try not to spin it, to stick their notorious bigs in someone else's ass. Sticks and stones, and a whole lot of pet fucking peeves, may break my bones, words will and do sting a little, but they ricochet too, and once they do, welcome to the zoo, booboo.

Three cheers for the jeers, won and lost, best of one, carousel. When the inhibitions start bursting into flames, the only reprieve is to lock one's self into a deeper melancholy. It is easier to accept the reticence as foreordained, but progress is not. Or maybe it is. The realisation dawns upon me quicker than a mile high excursion. The upcoming sojourn is a wobbling failure already, even before it has launched, and the best way to accept the inevitable doomsay is with a smile on my face. No expectation. No regrets. My dearest friend, do not go gentle into that good night. You still are my greatest love, even when no one else sees you for who you are. I am the other love to come and comfort you, to remind you, to be your only ally against any and every single thing bogging you down. I am yours now as you are mine. In the event of some great tragedy, I will be there. In the event of a great calamity, I will be there. In the event of a cosmic heartbreak, I will be there. And there

In a span of, I do not know, a few days, I suppose, I have levelled up somehow, maybe. It is always hard to tell. It could be something or nothing, or maybe I am just imagining things, or maybe I give myself too much credit and somehow I still end up alleviating my temperament over nothing, so the ends probably overall diminish my accomplishment. There are small signs, big signs, and there are those that just end up halfway baked down the road, but I have these trigger warnings telling me that it has not really hit close to home just yet. Let me percolate these little victories momentarily, and the rest will come on its own, without having to worry about whether or not something is achieved or not. My nature tends to be disjointed trying to piece together between what could be, what could potentially be, and what is. A week's worth of reveries will not satisfy my happy anxieties, but a lifetime of maudlin ones are primed and ready to engage. Everything is so fragile. I miss the day

Few find similitude, if at all, in the collective endeavour of our zeitgeist . Few find even less, due to human nature, upon the realisation of our differences. But where so many have faltered, a few persevere. And where so many have fallen, a few righteously marches on, by the skin of their teeth. Because insofar, as it happens, history is immutable, and yet it almost always changes, even still, to this day, where all our hopes, endeavours, and dreams, continue to play. If knowledge is power, then we are constantly at war, whereas power is power, and the few who enable it become the truthsmiths that hold sway over unlettered tongues.

Feeling overwhelmed by a desire that far outweighs any of my previous expectations. Never toy with a heart is lesson learned, and how many times do I have to tell myself that? Perhaps I have overestimated my capabilities to recuperate. There is no looking forward. Had I been more socially inclusive to these unfathomable outcomes, I could literally have had people's sage advices, and it would have been more a party matter than an individual one, even though a large part of this dilemma has always been self-incurred. It was only Aurora who had warned me repeatedly of this, but where is this motivational speaker now? Lost to the flood of the selfsame ilk that came before her. I warbled my way out of favour, and in terms of sufficiency, I am lost to my own device. Here clamouring for an answer with no salvation nor hope. I am and will always be alone in my own defeatism. I do love the love I feel. I do not appreciate the struggle of its helplessness, the method with which it was brough

You can smile a little bit now , Cecil , he heard his right hemisphere say.  So Cecil woke up from his nap, and everything started to hurt again. He rises up ninety and leans over the bed. God , give me strength , his left hemisphere whispers. He struggles to smile, but he smiles just a bit to satisfy himself. Finally , says the right. A doot finally appears, reawakening his desire to persevere, however weakened his senses appear to be. Finally , says the left. He keeps his guard up, expecting the worst.

Cecil woke up feeling weakened by the prospect of imminent danger. It felt to him like an alarum blaring at the back of his head, jolted by that fear, cutting his well-earned rest short. It is the end of some roads for him, and the decision to condition his frail mind and body to accept that surrender somehow made his inconsistent mood already shaken with turmoil. He rose from the bed to grab his breakfast and devoted some time to gathering his temples to no avail. It was apparent that today, of all days, was to be a breakthrough when it came to his prevailing senses. He wants to start all over again. He had concocted a plan weeks prior to change things, and now the timeframe is shrinking fast and loose, the newfound vibrato coming ever so slowly, lips quiver, anxious. His room still smells of grime and dirty laundry. Anger starts to fuel him. Anger empowers his soul. The more the situation relies upon extreme luck and happenstance, the more he finds himself preoccupied with the notion

It takes skill to keep my mind at ease Long roads lead to another With one little loss Why should I bother? Raindrops falling through windows Shattering glass to interact Dimensions moving in void I see walls in tesseract It won't do No can do But everything else I can Somehow just not that Breaking the barrier takes will An awful lot of strat Give and go And I am not going to go down on bended knee Thinking of all the many ways For you to adore me It won't do No can do

The first slippage was drastic; kind of fell out of favour too soon for just a single utterance of a minor jab. It will sting for some time, no worries. There is no playing safe when stakes are high; l ike a fish caught in a line w ithout nibbling baits of any kind. Time to time, and time again. Time to take my head for a spin, forlorn; all sorrow and sweet. Between two hedges of a burning tenement, we go and grow, and we watch the moon spiral out of control, secret scarlets, letters of eld, chopped liver and spleen and all. When an old acquaintance says hello and you notice his little growth spurts were more than defence mechanisms for his soft insecurities; softer hearts in exchange for leanness; preposterous notions of strength, ponderous to pause, exhibit the sensitivity, take notice, take leave, take heart, absent brain. Love is the risk we take for living. Love, the offspring of wellness. Take heed, take heart, absent brain. Take two, or three, or ten. Take it all, whatever you n

 Looking back at the end There's no looking back, It's the end We could walk back and pretend You attack and I will defend Until the very end

A single pint of lager was all the indication to me that all was but given up. The camaraderie was extinguished, but that does not necessitate me giving up in order to curse the ones at fault. I have been offered fair refuge, fair chance, and it is only deserving to those that I reciprocate that gesture with every ounce of my labour. The world will understand when the rest of us finds solace. The world will know when the sphincter shrinks and the bough finally breaks. The world as I see it, as I feel it, and as I live it. The world viewed through the translucent perspiration of a singular pint.

The end of a short era; small victories count for something, and made magicks out of air. All the things I learned and the stuff I was able to do in small span of time. Some things just keep rolling for the betterment of the soul. To permeate and grow, to proliferate, to expand into new horizons, and, best of all, to endure; all the hardships, the sacrifices, the necessary growth needed to become whole again. We move on. We always move on. We move along according to the ebb and flow. The cycle of change, regardless of how we went about it. Small victories from big failures. One step backwards, ten steps forward. Now we equip these learnings and feel better for the morrow. I will one day look back with pride; to get away from the accumulating toxicity and into something fresh, a new venture, a business, some project. Never look back to sadness and anger, and to never fear the unknown again. Steal the dreams of the admirable, and we too will be admired. Steal the show. Take what you can.

It was only at the beginning that I was drawn to the ignominy of my futile attempts to woo.  Nada está mal hasta donde puedo ver, pero lo hicimos más difícil de lo que tiene que ser, and it is a common proprium for me to feel some sort of alienation as a result. I have to lose myself every single time no one was around. In this process the only way I can understand the means with which things are communicated to me are through the silences by which I was bestowed. So silence it was and silence it shall be. One way or another I need be free.

Move away from darkness with sight Wipe all memories in one fell swoop Mourn the morrow Toast for the resurrection Accept the necessity of duress Lose the gumption Gain renewed hindsight Twist your toes with sands and stones Fill me in with thoughts of rage Find hell with me Discover your first breath & Live again

Claps one by one, him and her, walking sideways, says hello, goodbye. There they are. So long. Yesterday was a long time ago. We burnt the memories and yet here they are, they permeate, and they chew on us whole. Then we remember what we were, and then we forget, and I fall for that delirium, and the tears dry, and the wine pours, the tongue twists, whenever. Cry because we cry, for what little are hills moulded by these pair of hands if no one was there to witness. Two souls are enough, but to be united, concessions are made, and even if it succeeds, it still breaks. Premium grade, not close enough. Torn, when the lights are faded, stars gazing. Two by two and the prime is true, but the wheels keep on turning. The bonds of holy matrimony. Fine. Can we coalesce and give the whole bit some rest? Blue shoes, yoga. Siege beneath our lands. A silent nap with time at drizzle's pace. We all, all let live, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

Is it just the air or am I feeling a bit queasy? Perhaps the wind that transported that vector was passed along to numerous people and places before it landed within my vicinity. This is what it feels like to live. This is what it feels like to love again. The more I arrive to a destination, the more it is apparent to me that there is nothing better than to be infected by this malady. This will carry me out of the rut, or it can drag me further down, but knowing that the ends may sometimes justify the means will get us over the hump. It is all part of the larger machination of our fleeting existences. We all strive for the betterment of ourselves, yet somehow we find a myriad of ways of going about it in multiple different directions, to the detriment of our own selves. The thing we hope to get is the same thing that annihilates us. It is no different from the successes and the fortunate encounters we pass by along the way. They all stem from the same primordial instinct we have all go

In his heart and mind there always comes a war Green lights and purple shards of glass But the time it takes to wait shall hopefully pass Everyone sees he's beholden to loss and plan Meanwhile, Ainhoa was all he had The colours she evoke will map his elusive north star Don't get too banal We'll make a scene and turn the serene gold subpar Don't lose my anima That's a low bar Where dandelions haven't been You have the guitar None of us can pick the tunes to match the bizarre Oh we'll get far An instantaneous mental block was done Her tan fell into dragons blood in cinnabar The shade of maroon that never was Don't get too banal We'll make a scene and turn the serene gold subpar Don't lose my anima That's a low bar Where dandelions haven't been You have the guitar None of us can pick the tunes to match the bizarre Oh we'll get far Oh we'll get far She has collided with the musical With no key nor rhythm A scale that run ajar But her