Leaving the Nest

Oh god. Has it really been THAT long since I've posted something that isn't poetry? I haven't posted something heartfelt and important since MAY.
Well, that isn't to say that my poems aren't heartfelt and important, but when I look back over this blog when I'm old and withered (assuming it lasts that long in this technological age) I would rather like to know what's going on in the brain of past me beyond his ability to string a few words together prettily. So I'm going to talk about myself, because I like to do that and this place is designed for it.
So. Where to begin? Where to end? I'm too concerned with structure. Must...vomit...words!
I am still an utter hedonist. You'd think that the onset of adulthood would have encouraged some sexual withdrawal, or at least sexual sense. Unfortunately I am still as voracious as ever, and though it isn't exactly out of control, it isn't under it either. To look is to desire, and this problem is only compounded by the fact that very very soon I am leaving the hovel that is Canberra forever, and wish to mark my departure in my characteristic way by fucking everything male that looks at me sideways. Irksome, yet very, VERY entertaining.
Onto that subject - I'm leaving home! Moving out, fleeing parents, finding my feet, learning the ropes, so on, so forth. I am departing the public service factory that is Canberra and going to university in Melbourne. The prospect of leaving behind everything and everyone I've ever known and loved is an amazingly appealing one and probably suggests something in my personality I'm loathe to examine too closely. Let's just say I like change and leave it at that.
There are a few people I'm going to miss - a few regrets, a few friendships left to wither, a few too many times playing the hermit, a few opportunities squandered. Such is life, I suppose. In six weeks, none of it will matter.
I've become increasingly political. That is probably symptomatic of the fact that A) I love my own opinion and think it is more important than everyone else's and B) I now have the right to vote. I am living in an age where I want to encourage social reform. I suppose every generation wants that to some degree, but I anticipate that in my lifetime there will be some revolutions, and I'm sitting here on the cusp of a lot of them. My speech for Com Skills was very anti-heterosexual and I note this down only because I want future me to remember it. Perhaps I'll put it on this blog at some point.
I am still very much in love with my female counterpart and here, right before we embark upon our lives under the same roof after wanting it for so long, I can really appreciate just how important that love has become to my sense of self. I don't just love her - I am her. She occupies my thoughts continuously and it is almost scary. Still, I am content.
I am worried about the amount that I am eating. It is not enough but my stomach refuses more.
I am deathly afraid of magpies.
I have read 1984 for the first time and believed every word as a grim portent of things to come.
I am unpleasantly attached to the feel of fingertips behind my ears.
I have re-pierced my eyebrow at considerable expense.
I am very happy with the way my brain is working at the moment.
I am filled with love.

Summer is coming back and I feel change in the air. Time to leave the nest and go looking for it.

Each Burn Another Sin

Note: I did not write this. This is taken from another blog that I happen to be following. I just think it is a fantastic piece of writing and want to record it.

He gives an offering of flesh, he lets temptation win
Used Matches on the floor, each burn another sin
The pain leaves his head, as the flame burns his skin
He caused so much hurt, each burn another sin

To a demon of pride, he had become host
he had taken for granted, the one who meant most
For the hurt he has caused, the skin he must roast
An act of redemption, for the one who means most

His soul is inhuman, made of wire and tin
He stabs at his flesh, and burns at his sin
Each scar's a reminder, of the beast he let in
the only way out, is to burn for his sin.

Pulse

Oh,
it starts low.
One two, one two.
No sign of three.

Oh,
I want this.
It swells, it swells.
Rising higher.

Oh,
The tension.
The crash, the crash.
All has fallen.

And there's no way out,
It's time to wake up,
It makes you feel alive,
But you know you won't survive.

And now it burns you,
And yet you want more?
It purifies your soul,
It pulses and you're whole.

Oh,
It ended.
Rewind, rewind.
Listen again.

Oh,
The bassline.
Throbbing, throbbing.
This is heartbeat.

Oh,
This is it.
It ends, it ends.
The crescendo.

The Line

Cross this line in me,
You satisfy a fading need,
This is my faith to soothe your fears,
This is my breath to fill the void,
This is my hand to hold you, dear.

Cross this line again,
I refuse to let you fail.
I won't let you pass today,
I won't let you bleed it out,
I won't let you fade away.

Cross the lines aside,
I hate the way you look at me.
I hate the way you're cold to touch,
I hate the way you will not see,
I hate the way you ask too much.

You reach deep inside me,
The lines unbroken lie,
You cannot satisfy,
And so you take from me.
You tear and break and rend,
This cannot be the end!
You are consuming me,
You are engulfing me,
You are destroying me,
I'm waiting to die.

I cross this line for you.

I cross this line for you,
And though you will not see,
How this is tragedy,
I know that somehow,
Somewhere, this all will be worth it.

Just a line to cause a scream.
Just a line to break a dream.
Just a line to let me fall.
Just a line to burn it all.
Just a line - that's all, I swear!
Just a line, words in the air.
Just a line to cross again.
Just a line, this is the end.

This is Grey

Skipping school was a bad idea.



This is grey.
Scrawled words in seclusion.
The only release in broadcasting your words to those who could not care!
This is grey.
Pacing places, disturbed faces.
This is grey.
Limited and confined by apathy and inability.
This is grey.
Every creative impulse seized in delight.
An attempt to forget how dull you really are.
This is grey.
The seconds sleeting by with no way to capture them and use them.
Wasted.
This is grey.
Every emotion regulated and repressed.
Not by anything external, but by your own choice.
This is grey.
The system that governs our lives.
This is grey.
Walls painted blue and sickly yellow.
This is grey.
A checklist of tasks to keep you existing.
This is grey.
A boy who pretends that he is a man.
This is grey.
This is grey.
This is grey.

The Dying

These neglected pleas, splint-bound in this agonal.
Unnatural death, seize this beauty.
Lost sentiments rise and devour the worshipper.
The widow's fury atonement for your false dignity.

The embrace of the spider distorts your limbs.
These sinner's bindings ensnare your dying curse.
You'll mask your suffering, despite these hoarse breathes.
This trial of fools befits your crippled tread.

This necrogenic autopsy upon your demise...
Decrepit! Putrid! It exacts a grim toll.
Inescapable tendrils, this corrupted mind.
Finds innocent delight in the most vile of deciet.

The only lenience is in endurance,
The only recuperation in egotism.
This dislocation can grant malevolent life.
The only fleeting moments in failed escape.

This tainted and ancient power charmed,
A voracious Armageddon to ensue your damnation.
And though their surgery may trigger dormant memories,
The persuasion in their septic wounds holds only solitude.

This miasma, this infection - will lead all to ruin!
Incoherent sympathies to exhaust and indulge.
To banish this torment with repelling charges,
But to return and persecute under cover of silence.

This unsubmissive shroud of life and death.
Is the soul of your murder, this frozen pain.
Your conqueror, this anarchy, imprisoned and dying.
The betrayer of humanity the envoy of mortality.

Strings

I seem to be
All wired up.
Taking things
I do not need.
It comes and goes
You pull my strings.
God only knows,
What you'll begin.

Why do I have to dance to your tune?
It comes and it goes, around and around!
I will suffocate, wires crush my throat -
Strip me bare and take me by surprise.

I can't deny
Your entropy.
I wonder what
You kept from me.
You're such a fake,
Forced to repent.
You grind my soul,
I will relent.

Hey now, you'll drain me dry!
You leave a drop and I'll be forced to justify.
Suck in air, hands will seek despair.
Give and take but soon my body will not petrify.

Dance to your tune...
I'm such a fool.
Pull the trigger as the heels kick above the line.