it is so that no one knows what the fuck our existence rightfully means;
we follow false deities in hope of finding hope,
and in it's right we do, in the form of falsification.

i've never needed more than three words.
three brutally honest words that have the combined potential of sugar coating any dire situation, and any flaw i can find in this tragic world.

all i'll ever need is the truth.

december

empty corn fields fill my vision, blurring the horizon.
it's so fucking cold, my cigarette's still burning.

i'll let my hand go numb,
it's the only way i can see your photograph
and although my exterior may freeze
my blood is pumped from a newly warmed source

you make winter seem bearable

i'm getting back into old habits,
and maybe a couple of new ones.

i don't know quite what to make of it;
i've never been this happy with all of the aspects of my life at once,
but i look at what some of the consequences are and think about whether or not it's going to be worth it in the long run.

i can't live a single day without appeasing at least one of my addictions.

ps. holy fuck i need to learn when to shut the fuck up. i say the stupidest fucking things.

ideally, all i'd ever need is a state in which i find myself entwined in your heavy sheets.
i don't want anything more than what you could give me;
that'd be excess, and all i want is a suitable amount of hypothetical to render me confident that i'll have enough substance in my life to persist through another arduous week.

i felt so good tonight, but i'd never gotten such a burning image.
all i wanted to know was your existence,
and not even the drugs could drag your visage from my conscious.

although it's far too early for me to admit this, i miss you.

life update 1.

everything's looking good for me right now, i'm co-hosting a new year's party at randy's, i'm writing the rest of my stuff for my acoustic demo, and i'm getting better with vegas and getting more serious about my youtube. all of that added to new friends and a new girl means december is pretty much my favorite month this year.

thirteenth of december.

seemingly argent strands fell from my clothing as i stripped today,
preparing to wash away a day's filth.
all i remember is everything, and it's all i'll never forget.

you're on my mind,
and you left quite an impression.

soon i'll exit this scene to replace my background with snow covered corn fields;
i'll press nicotine against my lips and smile.

you'll be on my mind.

this is me at the end of the road;
inject it, just do it; inject it, she said.

i gave in.

drugs have quickly gone from being something to enhance my life to something that degrades the rest of it. i've never felt so dependant and i'm disgusted by it.

my life is sex and drugs. everything else is comprised of the parts you'd fast forward through, were my life a movie.

i just spent twenty minutes writing the most revealing post of myself i've ever written; i discovered things about myself i formerly couldn't comprehend.

it was too revealing though, and i'm not ready for anyone to know that side of me. the day i admit that i'm not the person i seem to be seems too difficult for me to handle right now.

another wasted day just passed, i did however find a completely enlightening band called manchester orchestra. i'm currently listening to how i waited, and the song is completely fitting of my mood.

the tally of my sickness, past events, and time of day is just absolutely magnificent.

well, although that may be false, i believe the weed today made it all fine. tomorrow i'm smoking two joints with manconi, and friday i'm getting drunk with evan. this should be an entertaining (and numb) series of days. i work saturday and sunday closes, unfortunately, but i need to buy my sister a nice gift for christmas anyways.

i don't understand why i'm so down. if only i had another joint.