You know what I need from you
I’m staring down into the sea
The resting place of your grave
I want to tie it right down
Then pull the rip cord like a top
Watch until it slips and flops
A shiny ray of destiny
A wave of brilliant darkness
The trench bursts – frights
Sounds of fear and then silence
Water, please bury this for me
Tides, send everything away
That’s what I need
So please
Stare it down and sail off into heaven
Never thought this could happpen
I’ve been stuck sailing due north
Never more view the iris of silver
Completely lost in havok
Twisted but not deformed
All around me the wind starts to shift
Blows right into my sail
Walls start to fall and break
Turning now fading hard into fate
This is not what I wanted
And still I want even more
And I know you don’t have to be perfect
Still I will try to fight this
Don’t know what I stand for
A Projection on Paper… what is this I don’t even
02:54:21 [Jaxxen] why does leveling suck so bad? D:
02:45:33 [Zadck] well
02:54:40 [Zadck] it has to do with your mother, Jaxxen
02:54:50 [Jaxxen] Go on…
02:54:48 [Zadck] it’s a long story filled with dark secrets and untold mystery
02:55:14 [Zadck] it all started when your mother, Beth, met a man named Issac.
02:55:48 [Zadck] What was that? Your mother’s name is not Beth? Of course not, because she changed her name, but I’ll get to that.
02:56:04 [Jaxxen] You’re right, she did change her name.
02:56:10 [Seksibelf] story time with zadck
02:56:12 [Seksibelf] /popcorn
02:56:21 [Zadck] You see, Beth and Issac started a small game company by the name of Level Up Entertainment. Continue reading
It all starts with the first paragraph
A pair of hearts
Or some vengeance to enact
To my left is some ink stored in a bottle of glass
I put my quill down and take a breath before I crash
A long time ago or maybe just last week
A stormy night or up on a mountain’s peak
A sunny day or a darkened stormy night
The actors take their stand as I exit far, far stage right
I only wrote the plot-line
I don’t ever direct
My vision unfolds
but the producer makes it wind up not like I recollect
It’s the role I play
The price I pay for my success
I never follow through
I only go on to write another
Exposed,
Rising,
Conflicted,
Climatically
Descending
Mess
Transcendentalist laying in a hammock
He looks out over the ocean burgundy
Says “I don’t think this is where the plane left me.”
He forgets that he took a left at the last road
Puts on some roller skates and gets stuck in the sand
Thinks back to where this all began
Says “I remember now it all started when I bought that hat.”
And he goes from there saying silly stuff like that
Goes up to the sandbar to get himself a drink
Remembers sandbars are dry and leaves before he gets too weak
Takes a gallon long drink from the ocean and winds up loopy
As if he wasn’t before, but now he can leave be
He looks behind himself and back to the hammock
Says “Hey wait why did I drink that damn it.”
I mean it’s not like it’s that easy
But with burgundy seas and salt-crazed crazies
It begs the question if it’s that easy
Add it to the list
Write it in words lost on wind
Another entry of this fear
The lines, they tie me down, they keep me here
With every breath and moment I live
I know I have so much to give
If I could only I could awaken
Faster faster
Forward
Advance
Spin spin spin spin
Spin spin spin spin
Spin spin spin spin
Spin spin spin spin
Spin spin spin spin
Spin spin spin spin
World in motion
Keep up
Run faster
Faster faster
Advance
Only one direction – forward
I tried going back
I failed
I can only go forward
Black wrappings, soles and soul by the door
I got them a week ago
Trashed
Three holes
Two tears
Deformed
Dirty
Faster
If I don’t run
The world will leave me behind
It’s not that same cliche – “life is short, time is unrelenting”
No
Life is long
Time is a competitor
A rival to race against
I will win
I will go faster
Slow down? Shut up.
I’m going the right speed.
You’re standing still.
It’s not relative.
You are wrong.
Calm down? Wake up.
You’re stuck, dazed in your sixteen hour refrain.
I don’t hear it.
And I don’t hear you.
No more.
Quiet.
Not even a sound
Never never never never again.
I race time, chase it down.
I read a story on BBC news about a new study by a group of Swedes who found that “writers had a higher risk of anxiety and bipolar disorders, schizophrenia, unipolar depression, and substance abuse.” Apparently, we writers are as much as twice as likely to kill ourselves as compared to non-writers. Dancers and photographers, according to the study, have a higher rate of bipolar disorder as well.
It’s the latest in the long line of studies that tell us things we already knew, but it is interesting. The BBC article calls into question the treatment of such disorders if they could also be viewed as a gift. Some of the most famous writers of history were depressed and several committed suicide, but before they did they wrote things that have made themselves immortal. I think the suicidal Earnest Hemingway is probably the most famous example, but it seems like nearly every name we know for authors are quirky in the least.
Another study article linked on the side from two years ago reports that creativity and the brain patterns associated with it are close to a schizophrenic brain. Apparently, it takes being insane (or at least the brain patterns of a madman) to create art. Another one on there says that poets in particular are 20 times more likely to experience mental illness. Twenty times!
I’m twice as likely to kill myself as a non-novelist and as a poet I am 20 times more likely to end up in a psych ward! Nifty.
Kite string cut and left in a tangle
Loose end left to dangle
Resolution is what I really need
But I’ll settle for closure
Woah double back
I flip through the pages
I turn them back
I think I missed the best part
Woah no turn around
I’m going way too fast
My stamina won’t last
Spirit is fading fast.
Oh come on, just now what?
You say I missed a spot?
How could I when it’s one big grey blot?
I’m not catastrophising.
Just how can I be like that
When I’m fading so fast
I’m here for now but stay I’ll not.
I am accelerating.
I am emphreal.