Earth

I am seriously starting to hate this planet. Nations lead by gamblers and people driven by lunacy. Really tired of retarded minds and carnal cultures. I hate everything and everyone, all that I see and hear. I am sick of what I sense and touch, all that I taste and smell. Nothing is new and nothing is good. I believe it's so scary for people to believe we might be the only specie in this universe! Imagine, the disappointment all the UFO believers would feel when they know that all the life in this universe is our responsibility! Imagine the burden of the responsibility the leaders of this world would feel. How many dreams would shatter knowing that there is no place to live beyond earth. Imagine the rage and panic environmentalists would go through trying to clean up earth. Haa! Sometimes the human race hopes in some fiction story in hope that one day we would skin out our pains and fears. Why do I care?! I don't! the only problem is that all this world's filth has gotten into me.

The moon triggered me

I have never seen the moon this beautiful before. Though incomplete yet I stare at it's amazing beauty, its solitude, it's silence. Through a little opening in my window I was touched by its soothing light, I was thinking how much I needed a woman's hug, her warmth and care. After all life's disappointments I look for a place to rest my head and feel I am taken care of. A woman I could trust with my life. My mind stops me, while my heart pushes me. I know times, and appointments, I know patience, trained for long years. Now the moon is gone again, leaving it's image in this dream in my head and some scattered words on the internet. I wish I could sleep again, dream again, rest again and die again.

Valentine's day blues

I was drifted away again today, the people seem so far, the sounds sound so faint. Memories are closer to me than dreams, and sadness pushes hope away. Where I have been and when, is why I am what I am now. Within me I am so disappointed in the world of men. Friendships are as pale as a washed away color, Lovers are so unreal as a fairy tale could be. I question all my feelings and doubt all my thoughts. Was it real? Ever? I sometimes reach a place where I don't know what's real from what's not. Consciousness is a slow moving dream, distances stretch. I am no gentleman, I am a savage wild animal caught in the shackles of pretension. I live to act, not do. Ah how I miss a dream, where I could be who I really am. This world lies to itself twice, once to others and twice to itself. Everybody is caught in this swirling wind of deceit and none dare to face the solid truth. A solid brick that puts a stop to all motion and time. I hit, faint yet now I see. What is life? love? What is the time we are given here? why? We tend to ignore awareness for sake of survival, thought as the clock ticks it witnesses the shortening of the time given. Don't wake up to such bitter reality, keep sleeping in your sweet time slipping dream. Watch the water slip through your fingers, watch that breeze fly by. Is it your life or mine? Does mine make a difference to you? well, your's matter to me anyway. In one of those instances to one of those beings I would really want to ask only one a question.. Did you ever love me? Whatever the answer is and no matter what I think It will answer my real question.. Was I real?

A Whispering Dead.

I have become so thin, so pale and faint. I am an image of smoke, a whisper and a still scent. My color is not to be defined and my taste is so mild. I am, am not. I drink and am drunk. I long to fly and yes I do. I was pierced and torn and scarred, pressed down and crushed. My breath was squeezed out of me, my life was snatched and pulled away. All that I am was buried long ago, alive I was but time outrun me. I was forced to dissolve, pushed to be consumed by nature and forced to disperse my being into the stillness of the soil. Roots sucked me in and I was no more.

The Life I saw and the way I went turned me into something, not someone. Stripped me of my identity and deleted my name. I became nothing, yet i am. Though I was blindfolded, chained, castrated, torn apart and burnt to carbon, reduced to my elements; I go to places no one can, I talk and listen to secrets few know about, I breed an offspring that no one can seize, I move things nothing else can. I am no ghost but yes I have become one.

I brag, to him who reads, but deep inside I mean it not. If my heart was ever felt, pride wouldn't be found there. But how could it be ever felt? It's so faint like a smoking thread, of a whispering dead.

Shooting at Sharm

It's been a week now here, shooting with a new crew and cast. It's a casino, with a lot of half naked girls. A lot of proud actors and malicious filmmakers, a few are good in heart though. I am so tired, had some serious food poisoning along with many other crew members, cast and extras. My feet hurt so bad, sore and worn out. Bad shoes, bad pain, fortunately enough I will get paid tonight and tomorrow I will get me some shoes and a jacket.

Emotionally I am so worn out, my heart is pierced with a pike. I feel as if I don't feel anything at all. Numb. It's just normal for a guy like me. I always feel so and it's no surprise I guess I am used to it. Sometimes I feel that I will never get married or have a wife. My heart is a frozen piece of meat, even when it beats, it's just sustaining my body. Dead is me. Dying was my life. I am sick of people, I spend hours alone. Solitude is pleasure, my only friend is God. I don't put my hope on anyone because everyone I loved broke my heart someday in a way or another. Some cut me deep some scratched my wounds. What's the difference? They are a factor to keep me bleeding.