Poor circulation pt 5

Everybody has bits and pieces

Pieces of me

Those pieces were taken far from here

So I went hiking to find them

The little ones

The big ones

I must have been blind

I hiked 527 miles

I only heard the pieces calling out to me

In the music I was listening to

I heard them sing of better times

Times Ive lost 

Times with her

Times with friends

Times with direction

Times with purpose

I let them borrow those pieces of me

and they never gave them back

So I sit strapped to a chair and watch my life in black in white up on a projector

or ill listen to my life on a record player

But I'm tortured

By the repeating sound and picture

of my time with you

Poor circulation pt 4

The journey was on this blog
Every blessed hardship
Every terrible thought
All the bullshit
All the good times

I used to like mountains
I used to like family
I used to like music
I used to like girls
I used to like hot cocoa
I used to like christmas
I used to paint
I used to hike
I used to read poetry
I used to light incense and seek views
I used to pray
I used to write and publish books
I used to play guitar and light campfires
I used to make conversation
I used to go out on friday nights

Clock on.
Clock off.
Repeat.

and now I cant think of a single thing that matters to me.

Not a single thing.

Poor circulation pt 3

Once upon a time  I couldn't drive anywhere and had no phone.

Now I can drive anywhere and call anybody.

No messages.

No voicemails.

No emails. 

No contact with the world.

So I drive to the old places,

And remember the old phases

the old faces

but theres no traces

and I'll sit in the car.

and I could go anywhere in the valley.

and I could spend all the money in the world.

and my speakers are on full but the valley is silent.

and nobody's here anymore.

Its funny how Once upon a time I had close friends and no freedom and now I have all the freedom in the world and no close friends.

Nobody to laugh with

So I laugh alone in the car.

Its funny.

I'm funny.

and insane.

Its great.

Mac Demarco makes great company.

Its great.

I love it.

Nothin like it.

I just absolutely love it.

I love being alone all the time.

Poor circulation pt 2

Love.

Lets reason this out here.
Love is the release of endorphins in our brain we deem pleasurable.
The endorphins trick our conscience into reproducing.
Its a survival instinct.
Not anything that carries real value.
Its a chemical trick.
Love tried to kill me.
So I guess I killed it first.


Happiness

Lets reason this out here.
Time takes double time most days and half time when things are good.
Happiness is an idea we created to be content with a moment.
To be content with ourselves.
Another chemical trick of survival to keep breathing.
So please explain what the point is if we die anyways.
Please explain Sadness to me.
Happiness is dead.

God.

Lets reason this out here.
I have never physically met god to my current knowledge.
Therefore I must assume that god is an idea.
God is an Idea.
I can't believe in god anymore.
Because if god is love where is this love they speak of.
Where is this god in my life?
Where are you Jesus?
Where were you when my life fell apart?
I didn't feel your arms around me.
I felt a dread for love and a dread for life.
I felt a weight in my lungs when your idea wanted me to keep breathing.
If god is real...
It is an idea that has failed me.
So please explain what the point is if we die anyways.
Please explain existence to me.
God is dead.

The rejection of all religious and moral principles, often in the belief that life and existence is meaningless.
Nihilism is not depression.
Nihilism is understanding.

All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry. -poe

Poor circulation pt 1

Im different these days.
Like the way I dress.
The way I talk.
The music I play.

Different than I used to be.
Like my mind has been rewired.
Its freaking me out.

The past is all forgotten.
The future isn't a thing.
Neither is the present.
Because now feels like then and tomorrow feels like yesterday.

To hate the things I once loved.
To love the things I once hated.

I'm not the same kid I was in high school.
I'm not the same kid I was in Summertime.
I'm not the same kid I was in the Fall.

....and now its winter.

I'm not a kid.
I'm not an adult either.
Not a teen.
Not a young man.

Im an old man.

a very very very old man
with so much time to think about things
the way time was way back when
the way I liked freetime
and mountains
and friendship
and music.

Im not the same kid no more.

I've evolved

I cant be an artist

So I wont be nothing

Heavier things: trk 8

Ok it takes a special someone to make you break down at work while processing medical records.

It takes a certain song to remind you of that person.

It takes a certain person to bring me to this place.

The place where I'd stay up all night to sew up her wounds.

Every time I think of seeing her I cry out the most honest tears I can muster.

I am 4 out of 5 boys.

I've always wanted a sister.

All those years.

Without.

m. y.

f. r. i. e. n. d.

This isn't some girl either.

She's the reason I'm still alive.

I've never met her before.

but when I do.....

I'll be complete

With.

m. y.

f. r. i. e. n. d.

This isn't my wife either.

Its

m. y.

f. r. i. e. n. d.

I cant wait to see her little eyes.

And feel her little breaths.

And sing her to sleep with my guitar.

So she can sleep easy on her dreams.

I cant wait

for

m. y.

f. r. i. e. n. d.