Movement.

For this upcoming Monday, the movement is to turn off my television and not watch it as often throughout the week.

WELL,

I do not watch television as it is, so rather than call it good and move onto the next week's goal,

I have decided to replace it with something relevant.

For the Monday, I will not get on Facebook, Myspace, or AIM.

I will only be on to check my e-mail as I am apartment hunting at the moment and have online homework.

Aside from that, no social networking.

This will be a toughie.

I can do it though (:

Be the change.

Week One: Every Monday Matters (slightly belated)

Things that matter most to me: (in no particular order)

1. Family.
2. Friends.
3 People in general.
4. Giving.
5. Compassion.
6. Passion for good.
7. My health.
8. The health/livelihood of others.
9. Making the most of each day.
10. Positivity.
11. Honesty.
12. Integrity.
13. Animal Rights.
14. Reaching out.
15. Listening.
16. The world.
17. The arts.
18. Words.
19. Acts of Kindness.
20. Knowledge.
21. Appreciation of each person and their ability/potential.
22. Growth.
23. Mistakes, and the lessons learned.
24. Learning.
25. Killer Kindness.
26. Breathing.
27. Movement.
28. Feeling.
29. Open Minds.
30. Appreciation for everything.
31. Rainy days.
32. Grip.
33. Photography.
34. Aspirations.
35. Children.
36. Never giving up on what matters.
37. Doing my best.
38. Nature.
39. Preservation.
40. Letting the bad roll off the shoulders (:


Just off the of my head for now (:

What I will make more time for, starting this next week:

My family: a game night, a movie night, or a sleepover with my sis.
My friends: Check in with the oldies, check in with the newbies, and do something spontaneous.
Photography: find my camera, capture the week.
Movement: keep apartment hunting.
Health: Doctor's appointment, get grocery shopping, find online recipes for veg's (:
Children: look up more arts and crafts ideas, read a child development book once a day.
Animal Rights: order Peta information, follow through with animal shelter information.
The arts: keep mine alive, listen to a new band each day.
Nature: Learn one thing a day about the environment/recycling. Share it with others.

A lot for one week, but we shall see how that goes (:
Your turn (:

reach to the moon.

I felt harder today than I have felt in a long while.

I almost hated myself for that,

before I realized that passion is beautiful.

don't die in me.

"I am crawling in my skin..."

fuck.

This is not where I need to be.

This is not who I am, 

fully.

This is not who I want to be.

I want out.

out.

out.

My brain is mush under this routine,

my spirits smothered by standards

and my body is a joke to my brain.

Life has become a ridiculous comedy house these days.

My fingertips are grasping for something more,

but my toes are firmly planted into the soil;

the roots are envious.

I am not a simple man.

I have the most insane dreams lately.

This weekend, after the crazy party in Manteca,
my mind was all about this crazy surgery man who wanted to experiment on the entire human race, starting with babies. His business cards were diapers with his information stamped onto the front where the baby images would have been. I then escaped him, via pickup truck and changing-person accompaniment...through the desert. We landed ourselves into a hostel type place where everyone was performing magic, and I was in on the secrets to how a broom could be stood up, upside down. I knew all of it, but apparently those people were crazy too, and I escaped again....finding myself house-sitting at my parents, and walking in on my sister telling me that everyone was dying on the floor. A woman had been hugged too tight and was bleeding from every pore in her body, and a man somehow chopped off his finger. And the 911 dispatch thought I was telling a joke when I called in.

Last night, I dreamt that I went into a store to get a haircut, but the man taking money also was an aspiring magician....he gave me a deal on the cut if I watched his trick. So I did, and the fucker took off without giving me my haircut. Then there was an elaborate chase between myself and the neighboring stores, because they were pissed at him too. There were clues in all tiles, numbers, and the magic trick that he did. Which, by the way, sucked my dick. He was a joke. But apparently, the point in all of this, was that he was down to take over the world and thought I would never find him in a secret underground labyrinth...filled with tractors and other machinery. Weird.

Which theory should I go with on this one? I am not exactly thrilled at these dreams. Oy.

How safe it is to feel safe.

 

 

The view from here.

I won't trust the air with secrets.

The world is falling apart around me,
and I know not if I have the shoulder breadth
to keep it aloft.
I cannot see the world in color some days,
the negative weeds its way into me
and moving is merely a notion.
Justice is a joke.
All of this is a joke.
Everyone is so sad. Everything is so sad.
But not really.
I don't take the time to say what I mean anymore.
I don't care to,
because the motions of mouths 
are less powerful than the motions of hands.
My body is a casing, 
holding me back from the life that I wish to fulfill.
These words fall short,
and so does time. 

Fuck it.

I know it turns you off when I get talking like a teen.

It's days like these,

I breathe life in harder and faster

than my lungs can process.

The toxic is almost gone, 

but I find you between intakes

and gag on this sweet.

It's days like these 

I put on my dancing shoes

and celebrate.

Those who tell the truth shall live forever.

I have tasted the words from your lips,

sweeter than I had imagined.

Don't let the salt linger;

I have traced my tongue against it

long enough to sacrifice familiarity

for something better.

Show me nothing less,

because my ribcage is a battlefield

of scar tissue.

Your fingertips aren't the first,

but I wish them to be the last.

So keep them graceful,

let your feet to the ways of the wind,

and keep your mouth honest. 

                                                                                    (I love you.)

We were born to fuck each other, one way or another.

Be still, heart,

so that I may forget that you have attached

yourself

to me

indefinitely.

Pour a little salt, we were never here.

I said to you "This is all that I have. Take it or leave it."
You took all that I gave,
about-faced faster than eyes could fathom,
and vanished.

Congratulations,
you have heard the rattling bones resting within my closet,
and were not impressed.

The universe is shaped exactly like the earth.

By the way,

Fuck.

 

The earth is not a cold, dark place.

I am breaking my back to kill my creativity.

I am retching on who I am

because I am not very impressed.

So young, so young, so young,

and time lies before me like

infinity lies before the universe.

But for some reason, 

that is insignificant.

This moment is all I want,

is all that I feel I have.

So nothing is ever really even close

to becoming good enough.

You will never be good enough,

because I am not good enough.

Look through my eyes and see that the world is breaking before me,

like infinity is breaking before me.

I cannot place my head above my shoulders,

because I have attached it to my kneecaps.

Just so far that my heels are close enough to recall,

but my aorta is breaking to reach my brain soon enough.

My words are like baby coos to the world.

They are only loud enough to grasp onto momentary attention,

so insignificant as the ears I place each syllable upon

breaks down to sympathize that my vocal chords function.

That my vocal chords have nothing on ages before me.

I am breaking my back to kill my creativity these days.

I hate my kneecaps, by the way.