Kenners's blog: "Rants and Poems"

Happy is what I used to be.  I only barely understand the word.  I can be happy in oblivion and happy in the now.  What I keep asking myself is not the why, but how.  Another little dullard day.  Another one I didn't find the way.  I slept in till noon then crawled down the slippery slope.  I sat and looked at your picture in my head.  I keep wondering if this is hell and I am only dead.  I want to find that place within me.  That one that doesn't seem as cold.  I want to find the pieces in me... the pieces that don't seem so old.

I am happy now.  I can see the crest break and it means something is still coming.  I don't know if it's what I want, but it has to wash this away.  I don't know that it will, but I know that it must.  I can't stand the stink of the things piling up inside my room.  All these greedy little creepers pawing on to spell my doom.  When I say my I do not refer to me.  When I say my I refer to the we.  

The we that wait in silence for the coming sun.  Those that have white knuckles clenched thinking of what they've done.  They've let pieces go.  Pieces that they needed.  I don't know that I am the we, but I play pretend.  I'll keep kicking and screaming straight up until the end.  I am not a peaceful angel I am chaos born anew.  Not the chaos that does nothing, but the one born blue.  The one that sits and wonders why it is this way.  The one that never blunders and always finds the words to say.

"I fucking hate this place and the people of.  I can't stand to fucking reason why it gave me this and not someone that begged for it time and time again.  It is the life you see and not the one you get... that has left me broken and throwing a little fit.  If you want to join me it's your fucking choice.  Just keep in mind I forgot to tell you so and now it's too late."

Broken little fragments still left in the dust.  What was once strong as steel is now not but rust.  We can keep on walking further, but I know it now.  The end is never coming.  So, I'll keep asking how.  How do I keep going when going means without?  How do I keep going in this endless drought.  I need a little rainfall to wash away the stick.  I need a little rainfall before this hell fully makes me sick.  There might be a tiny piece that still knows it's name.  There might be a tiny piece that wants to play the game.  Though, it doesn't matter because the rest of me is done.  Now all I'll have to do is turn my tail and run.  I no longer belong inside this place that you all stay.  So, I'll cut the safety rope and hope that in the darkness there's another way.  I'll slowly drift from sight as I wade into it all.  Keep looking straight ahead and counting to the fall