AtrophicCure

Sunday, August 31, 2008 - 7:38pm "ben sun. elementary school; part of the group. naive. middle school; asshole. lost. high school; dumbass. forgotten. college; free spirit enlightened by an ephemeral equilibrium enveloped in short-lived perfection disguised as the next generation of peace and love and happiness with no regard or commitment to authority. found. a return to the absolute. nirvana pending. ascension acknowledged. assent to be determined. i'll let you know where the road takes me. WHAT UP"

Tuesday, November 4, 2008 - 3:30am "I just did something I shouldn't have. Bad, bad, bad Ben. At 3 in the morning you are a recluse. The distractions of normal human activity and interaction hold no value to the thoughts that need to be diluted for proper sleep. I lack this ability to effectively attenuate that which clogs the mind. Tonight I unleashed the fracture in my projected reality of now. I dove into the vaults, of which reveal time that has been left behind and exaggerated over itself. Let me start by saying I hardly forget anything. Instead, I ignore memories because more often than not other people don't remember them when mention

February 5th, 2007 - 9:01pm I want to take everything for granted so that no one receives the credit and recognition they deserve, so that I may live a life enveloped in praise for nothing but me, myself, and I. I want to remain unintelligent forever, for what is intelligence and knowledge but a waste of space for the brain to think freely in. I want to repress a sense of humor, because what is laughter but an ugly, unhealing noise that erupts from your lips. We could do without. I want to never learn from my mistakes, so that I may succumb to the same errors and faults over and over again, a repeated offense with repeated defenses. What

January 29th, 2007 - 9:40pm      I constantly fight the urge to just yell at my teachers at the top of my lungs. Shake my fists a little. Visualizing myself getting up and kicking out the door like a badass. I've never dozed off in class so much before. My books have deep imprints of my ridiculously attractive face in the pages, from me losing all consciousness right in the middle of a lesson. I'm tired of waking up with paper and educational words stuck to my cheeks. My face cheeks. At first I thought I just wasn't getting enough sleep. Which is true. But now I think I'm just bored to death. Homework is less appeali

November 18th, 2006 - 5:07pm       I am ready to live, and unprepared to die. I am selfish. I want to leave no one, and no one to leave me. I want us to move through the rift of time together and grow together and learn together and evolve. Everyone is a part of me and I want to be a part of everyone. I want to hang on to every thread of hope. I never want to lose time. Ever. I am curious. I want nothing more than to be able to see what we will be like in twenty years. In thirty years. In fifty years. I want memories to stay. I want anger to fade away. I want sadness to flee and never return. Ever. Everyone know

she's like the wind, man. scissors can't cut her, but not because she's strong. or maybe she is, always finding a way to belong, knocking down dreams and pushing the clouds. like the wind, man. she comes and goes like life's too slow, like there's nothing left to hold her back and the simple movements of my hand lay her back on track, as if the moon could crawl into a hole and die all over again, leaving the path less traveled all up to these men, humans always paving the seas and her of course appeasing the crease to breathe

I feel like I'm in an airplane ready to take off while we slide into place with that underwater ears plugged feeling we try to shake off and i'm putting on my headphones trying to alert the cause of sleep and the vibrations of the seat begin to drop into familiar seclusion in the deep while the voices never stop but feel so far off beneath the hummin' of the engines as clouds whip by and by and by so long as I can continue loving you, I've got some place to go and something to show for it as long as I can keep stealing the show blow by blow suffering bruises and consequences for all of these things I've done and all of the

Fending alone to fend for myself you were waving legs like fresh out the ocean like sand in the bleachers bringing in the cold and eating time when you leave you take a piece of me that traces circles and lies and somewhere in the sleep I gave up what's in the air that makes it hard to talk or even open my mouth to utter shaking phrases designed for waiting his face was like mine but curled into a smile designed for hating and the pacing of the stars mistook my hand for gravity's touch and all came c r a s h i n g   d o w n in runon sentences crashing into the shore cursing in the earth's pores grabbing and twisting on the arms

Yes, I'm going to put this in a note, to properly define the line of which I continuously cross on a daily basis. Chris Clark was my best friend, and instead of letting him talk, letting him live, I let him go into the abyss. Stilted breathing does not quite convey the burden I feel pressing down on me from above if not in sadomasochisticmatrimony -- though often my lungs give out in a suppressed, dire need for fresh air, for new words, for new memories. These which I can grasp not. These which I have forever cast into oblivion and improbability and all terrors of the universe. The horrors of the human mind, of my own