endurance run

endurance run was always the activity i hated most as a child. designed to test the stamina, constitution, and sheer determination of even the most athletic eight year old, it was a gruelling sixteen hundred metres. four times around the field. one mile. the prize was a rating based on how quickly the mile was completed: excellence, gold, silver, bronze... i always knew i wouldn't be good enough, and always ran anyway.

this is reality, and it is a metaphor for every goal i have sought to achieve; even if i feel like my lungs are going to burst into fire and collapse, i still don't want to give up. maybe in the next second i will succeed.

so many times i have let myself down. only time will tell if it's all worth it.

i want to outrun all my mistakes. i can do it...



my legs break down at the side o’ the road
i got a hundred and fifty more clicks to go

running to reach you before nightfall
the thing is, i might not make it at all

everytime i tried to catch you before
you drifted away more and more

i’m a lightning rod in the storm
and you were gone that Sunday morn

i walked outside and started to run
just to feel your breath leaving my lungs

and i thought i saw you, and followed you here
now I’m not sure you were ever near

even the times i held you close
and you look so smart in your smart new clothes

you were begging another part
you were letting go of my heart

my legs collapse at the end of the path
i can’t even breathe enough to laugh

running to reach you once again
i’ve got a feeling i already know how this ends

you were begging another part
you were letting go of my heart


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dirty walls

dirty walls surround me. plastered with grime and dust, motes and cobwebs. i've hidden all the dirt with memories; pictures on the walls, pictures of our times together... the hallways are adorned with framed flashbacks.

the room is full of shelves and desks. i am surrounded by equipment, slowly collecting specks of my dried, discarded flesh. so many buttons and knobs; i don't know what to do with them all.

the early morning sun streams in the window, and the dust does a dance, swaying in time to the heartbeat of my grimey little speakers.

this is where it all begins. i take all the feelings i have about you, and cut them up into little pieces of tone and concept. i craft a story from our dreams. it's dirty, but it's real.




i wiped it all clean and started again
whole new outlook, whole new trend
choking back the bitter aches
of love’s labour lost and past mistakes

i spent the morning in solitude
and you’d be here if you only knew
i can’t stand these empty halls
and it’s not that; it’s these dirty walls

you say i always complain
you don’t want to feel my pain
but I gave it away a while back
i didn’t need it anyway

the loneliness is a front
just a heartbroken stunt
and i’m not gonna let you go
this time...

i spent the better part of my years
picking up my falling tears
cleaning these dirty walls
leaving nothing behind

i wanted to give you everything
somehow, i lost hold of the dream
we’re just paupers in this land
of kings and queens

the loneliness is a crutch
because i love you so much
and i’m not gonna let you go
this time...

i ran the gamut and i thought
i thought i had it, and I fought
The final goal, the never-ending
kind...

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choke

choke off the supply. my air supply is dwindling. i'm starting to fade away; i don't feel real anymore. i tried holding my breath until i died. but i couldn't do it. i passed out and started breathing again. the body just refuses to give up. it seems so funny... oxygen kills me a little more every day, rusting me from the inside out, yet my body won't let me stop taking it in. if ever there was a proof of god (which there isn't), this sick joke would be it.

i don't want to die. ever. i am so scared of that CEASING-TO-BE. i will simply blink out of existence. and it will come suddenly. i won't have the time for all the important moments; telling everyone i love or hate them. or both. i obsessively document it here, there, everywhere... because one day it will be all that is left of me. and eventually the bits and bytes will degrade to dust, and i will be nothing. i will not be.

i will waste no more time on regrets and unrequited emotions. this is me moving on.



oh how i choke
oh how i choke
i choke on my words

i get choked up, my heart it pounds
a sorry state about the art of sounds
but puffed on pride in your own hometown
you lost everything that you found

it’s not that the opposite wasn’t true
it’s not that i didn’t believe in you
it's what you made of yourself, but worse
it’s what you made of me and my trust, first

the place where we used to meet
the lakebed’s all dried up at my feet
and a god’s not gonna bring back the day
before you got up and walked away
now take it away

nah, nah,
you’re not even making sense,
you’re just spinning your wheels
the sounds aren’t even offensive;
they ain’t even real

you just keep spewing garbage,
hate and lies
the saddest part
is how little i’m surprised

as you paint yourself
the victim here
no one’s believing
your crocodile tears

go on, keep trying
get enthused
keep spewing your lies,
it’s keeping me amused...

it’s a shame when I was hurtin’ the most
that you were too busy flirtin’ with ghosts
you were haunting the past, and fading fast
and dreaming of heading out to the coast

and it’s a joke that the pieces don’t even fit
i eat the fruits of my labour, but choke on the pit
remember all the way back to the start?
when we used to share a heart...

now i’m left with a lump in my throat
it’s hard to breathe when i read what you wrote
i held you back, you said in your note
"you held me back"; yes you can quote me, that’s a fucking quote.

oh how i choke
oh how i choke
i choke on my words

it’s a contest 'tween you and i
c’mon look me in the eye
if this moment were to pass you by
you’d regret it before you die

i’m not the one who’s holding you back
but maybe that’s why you’re on the attack
don’t think i’ll take the blame
but i loved you all the same
goodbye...

i choke on my words
goodbye

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bad consequences

bad consequences. the product of our actions. it does not matter if our intentions were good... save that it's all the more disappointing when everything inevitably comes crashing down. yet still we remain hopelessly and foolishly optimistic, deluding ourselves into thinking that it couldn't possibly be our fault, simply because we acted out of goodwill.

i tried to change. it didn't change the outcome of anything. all it did was change how i felt about myself. and not in a good way. i used to spend all my time angry and resentful. it didn't make life miserable, but nor did it make it grand. when i decided to be more cheerful and make a conscious decision to judge less, accept more, and take responsibility for myself... well, nothing much changed. it didn't make life miserable, but nor did it make it grand. i suppose there's something i'm missing.

for what it's worth, i'm trying to document how i feel in the here and now. it will be a time capsule for my journey.

this is a disclaimer. my whole friggin' life is a disclaimer. there is no literal, correct translation for the story i am showing and telling. nor is it a particular metaphor or allegory or anecdote. it is not all autobiographical. it is not even particularly true. it's just an option: one of many.



i walked into the desert to find myself
i left you all behind for the good of my health
i went in search of a deeper meaning
i returned empty-handed and void of feelings

loneliness does something irrevocable
it burns you down in the fire and crucible
apparently i’m not the island i thought i was
but i forgot most of what you taught me ‘cause

i feel no guilt when there are no consequences
you can’t keep me chained up to these iron fences
but i’m a prisoner nonetheless, of my own devices
and i foresee no way to avert this crisis

our angry words, they came to blows
if things had been different, well, who knows?
maybe we wouldn’t be stuck in this rut
i’d have ended it long ago if i had the guts
but i haven’t got the guts...

life is nothing but bad consequences
you make the move, you take your chances
life is nothing but physical senses
you will be judged for all your actions

i walked into the desert to try to heal my pain
i had everything to lose and nothing to gain
i was on the ultimate quest for self-annihilation
and i almost succeeded on my permanent vacation

what are the consequences of ignoring the call?
loneliness will be the death of us all
one day the machines will all break down
and there’ll be nothing but memories of this shit town
what will you do then?

life is nothing but bad consequences
you make the move, you take your chances
life is nothing but physical senses
you will be judged for all your actions


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an anagram

an anagram. that is all i am. a hollow shell of a man; a thick coat of veneer painted overtop of cheap plyboard, chipping away slowly as the years grind by. i think i used to have a meaning and purpose. i grew up with that sense of value and worth. but it's not here anymore, and i'm not sure when i lost it or where it went. what's left over is a mixed-up version of what i used to be.

i don't feel connected to anybody, and it hurts. i hate myself for it, but i also hate all of you. why do you all look at me with such disdain, as though i have let you down? what do i owe you, anyway? i tried my best. i tried to fit in. my family, my friends, they were false. fakes. i had to leave them behind. start over, start a brand new life, re-invent myself. this is the new and improved me.

i may be alone, i may be an empty husk, but i am strong, i am powerful, and i pity you all, your mores and values. fuck you. you're no better than i.

i have a story to tell you, and it's not a pretty one. it's a story of lust and betrayal, and loss. you say that sounds cliché, but i've got some surprises for you. stick around to watch the story unfold, and you will see. this is just the introduction. you ain't seen nothin' yet.

i'm gonna lay it all out for you. i'm gonna tell you with pictures, with words, and with sounds. you will feel the full onslaught of my genius, and you will know the truth; it will blind you and set you free all at once. you are rolling your eyes, you think i'm grandstanding, you think i'm crazy... but you will see...



i’m trying to reconcile our disconnects
i love you so much i get side effects
no gain comes without a sacrifice
no pain matters when i look in your eyes

the shadows stirring in the depths of your stare
the nape of your neck, a lock of your hair
i’m not really myself when you’re not around
i’m a record player, playing no sound

i am a digital divide
i just came along for the ride
scrambled bits, forgotten crime
left to rust, rotten in the ditch of time

the fact that i can say this to your face
doesn’t remove the bitter taste
of slowly flickering away
the last lingering light of a slow-dying day

there’s not so much more self-control
when i slid on down the rabbit hole
the tides came in as i lay on the shore
and i slipped out to see on the underscore

the notes hung together like sun and moon
the refrain tripped up a beat too soon
if i hadn’t guessed, i wouldn’t have known
that your heart had long since turned to stone

don’t want you to misunderstand
why it is i forced your hand
it hurts me more than you could know
that i’ve got nothing left to show

i’m just an empty husk of a man
a jumbled word, an anagram
if there’s a way that we can weather
then help me put us back together

oh my stars i am in love
with you, it hurts, it hurts so much
the feeling cuts me like a knife
a cliché bryan adams line

you think i wanted it this way
but what i feel i cannot say
i fear i’ll always be the same
afraid to jump into the game

maybe that’s why i never change
even to me it’s a little strange
i’m metaphorically paralyzed
it’s my emotional disguise

so please forgive me all my vice
don’t make me beg you once or twice
i’m trying to do what i can
to be more than an anagram

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prologue

the story is about to begin. the scene has been set. our hero is a boy who has run away. he has spent all his short life running, trying to escape, though he knows not from what. he believes himself an orphan, too different from anyone else to be family, to be human. his thought pattern is linear and single-minded. he is relcacitrant, diffident, and selfish. he lashes out at everything, blaming everyone but himself for his woes.

this is his humbling. we will begin soon...

the lines are frozen

i'm creating a moment in time. this is a precursor; a preamble... a primer. after this preface, there will be a succession. it will be a logical succession, based on a pre-established and mutually agreed-upon common lexicon.

the pattern will be easy to interpret early on. it will be episodic, linear, and didactic. a story will unfold.

hopefully, we will interact over the course of this series, and it will be mutually beneficial.

already, the first four episodes are nearly complete. there will be many more to follow. i dub this series horizontals. enjoy.