Kafkaesque Relations with Women

Awkward and never know what to say on a date?
That's me,
never know what to say, and when something does come out, it's usually the unknown: strange, cryptic, or off putting.
I like to blame cell phones and internet chat rooms.  Maybe playing too many video games during childhood.
The truth is I lack certain social skills with women
And like all my weaknesses, I just let them wane even further down the pit with no hope for improvement.
Maybe I want to live in an abyss full of loneliness and remorse.  Always thinking, Why didn't I work harder or live better or do something different.
I really thought I stopped concerning about the Past.

Fuck You Kakfa

I awoke in a pool of melancholy and allowed myself to drown in it.

I never saw the sunshine,
Just dark apathy and depression
Encompassing my total being.

The world is a cruel place for the weaklings,
So why can't I improve myself: my body, my mind, my soul, & my emotions.
I use the words awkward and Kafkaesque too liberally
That I can't think up better words to describe the cure of my illness.

There is no more independent thought
In the abyss that is my mind.

So how does one make an acurate rebirth?
Cocooning oneself as a meditation practice and pray alone.
There are no good thoughts left,
I fall in and out of love as the pendulum swings.
My social community group has promoted independence so much
No one truly desires to work cooperatively again.

These Days

To truly harm and discomfort someone,
To destroy, nay murder, a newly planted seed of love is true evil.
The devil slept in my bed one night
And I will never forget the feeling of guilt and remorse.
My internal sobbing eyes and swelling cheeks are
The constant reminder of the evil I embody.

So many of us are capable of this evil,
It stays dormant in some and burning brightly in others,
But it lives there, inside of all of us, slowly killing off the small parts that make us who we are
In order to leave nothing but an empty shell for the fire to fully embody and flourish.

one thing, many faces
it shines itself here and there,
And some feed the cravings it asks for.

The world of religion says fight the evil, you have the will to,
But this thing can find the weakest of the chains and will cause the rest to crumble and fall,
dragging them all down with a death grip of strength attached to the foot,
Pull.
You can't fully destroy it.  You can't fight it.
It finds all and every way to tempt and crucify you in totality.

one thing, many faces,
there is nothing it can't and wont do
To gain its unsettling and dark goal.

I embody this thing, this evil,
And it will never leave,
There will always be some part of it in me and that disgusts and disheartens me.

Through talking and acting, maybe there is a way to dull it down to it's most minimum size
And portray the true and good person I am.

Depression-spell Meditation

Give me the time to sit and think on how amazing and discouraging life honestly is.
Life, the coin.  I feel the 50/50 probabilities in each moment I am conscious.
What comes to mind is the deep dark chthonic cave I throughly desire to retreat to in order to hide from my wicked mind.  That way I can rest fully and adequately.  When can I return to the top half of the mandala and fight the dragon and her little beasts with my full strength and skill.
To prove to them all I can live hard and fight hard.
The Voices tell me:
No one in the world gets what they want and that is beautiful, 
Everybody dies frustrated and sad and that is beautiful. 

My personal Tara keeps me positive and content in the stupor life is.
Without her, I cannot work well with others.
discover with the beauty found in the mud ridden filth of this world.
Reside within the beauty and solely learn to cope with the rest.





Reference to They Might Be Giants as the Voices

The Pipe Dream

To live out in th' hudo*
Away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
That's where my body and soul can be at peace.

Even if I get stained with grit and stinged with sweat,
It will be real living and my body will need it.

To live out on th' mountainside,
Away from people and their vanity.
To work long days fielding and climbing,
That's where I need to stay.



*Hudo is countryside in Mongolian

Birdhouse in your Soul

I'm your only friend
I'm not your only friend
But I'm a little glowing friend
But really I'm not actually your friend
But I am

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

I have a secret to tell
From my electrical well
It's a simple message and I'm leaving out the whistles and bells
So the room must listen to me
Filibuster vigilantly
My name is blue canary one note* spelled l-i-t-e
My story's infinite
Like the Longines Symphonette it doesn't rest

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

I'm your only friend
I'm not your only friend
But I'm a little glowing friend
But really I'm not actually your friend
But I am

There's a picture opposite me
Of my primitive ancestry
Which stood on rocky shores and kept the beaches shipwreck free
Though I respect that a lot
I'd be fired if that were my job
After killing Jason off and countless screaming Argonauts
Bluebird of friendliness
Like guardian angels its always near

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

(and while you're at it
Keep the nightlight on inside the
Birdhouse in your soul)

Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch (and while you're at it)
Who watches over you (keep the nightlight on inside the)
Make a little birdhouse in your soul (birdhouse in your soul)

Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch (and while you're at it)
Who watches over you (keep the nightlight on inside the)
Make a little birdhouse in your soul (birdhouse in your soul)

Not to put too fine a point on it
Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Suggesta-pervia

Let's learn English
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
My teacher good.
He come from America.
He likes me lots and I think he good teacher.
He plays music for class and comfy chairs are.
Let us rest sometimes and waits when we are ready for learning.
He's good and nice teacher.
He let me come to him home and we talked English and we played games.
It was fun.