Hey guys. I haven’t been around much, if any of my seven followers care much. I haven’t done nearly as much as I wanted to do with this tumblr. Such as get rich and famous, but that’s okay, because I’ve been doing the next best thing, which is not being on the computer. Honestly, I dread my time on the computer at this point.

Anyway, I have been hard at work on something the last couple of days, and I wanted to give a small preview of what I hope to be my most ambitious and meaningful piece to date. Anyway, here. This is a small fraction of what I hope it will end up as.

Its been a while since the waves receded
hurdling back under and into themselves
revealing the fossils of eroded relics,
taking hostage a bustling array of life
as it swept back through time for eternity.

What remained was a limitless basin
littered with archaic remnants of time
shattered beyond recognition, but I knew
these were pieces of my life’s mosaic;
scattered and distorted pieces of happiness.

With each dragging step I stirred the sand
kicking up artifacts of self discovery;
all the things that were lost and forgotten,
pieces of myself left for the scavengers
that prey on the withering bones of decay.

An abandoned ocean has much to offer
so much so, every discovery is unique;
a revelation that spurred me onward.
my curiosity grew, my steps became heavier
until I came upon a family of porcelain figurines.
They were cold and faceless, assuredly nameless
but they stood upright as if they were new.

There’s a certain person that I’ve spoken to numerous times that, despite the natural draw that they have, I cannot stand. It has something to do with self pity; the expectant rush of compliments that comes with a cry for help. I do not feel pity unless its warranted. Being fucked over by the same person multiple times does not garner pity, not from me. Having days where you “feel” ugly and worthless does not induce any type of sorry; not when we both know you are neither.

I do not have a cold heart and I absolutely do feel for someone who is devastated by events out of their own control. I do not, however, feel pity for every day letdowns and normal down moments. I have lived enough and handled enough to know that when someone has the power to make a change that it is on them to do so. It is not my responsibility to comfort you; on the contrary, it is my responsibility to tell you to suck it up and deal with it. There is also a worse tragedy occurring somewhere and the odds are that your tragedy does not even rank in the top million.

In my own experience, someone who is in a truly bad way, does not seek others. Ironic. Those who don’t need, take. And those who need, hide. The one’s who need someone the most are the ones who are uncertain they can be helped by anyone but themselves. And to me, that is the first step toward bettering yourself. But the second step is giving others a chance to help you get there.

What I’m saying is that if you know what you need, and you know the problem, there is nothing I can do for you, nothing I want to do for you; not because I don’t care, but because it isn’t up to me. Its up to you.

My name is Mike. I’m a 22 year old meanderer. Yes, I made that word up. No, you cannot use it. Yes, you can make up your own words. But you have to claim artistic license, or else you’re just a bad rapper. That sentence was indeed a fragment, but its okay because I’m using my artistic license.

Ain’t being a writer, err, artist, great? I can do anything I want. Its okay, because it makes sense to me. Unfortunately, I don’t matter. Only you matter. And fragmented sentences, fairy tale words, and colloquial writing styles are not okay. Writing does not obtain personality by creating a narrator with an accent that only you can hear.

I’m not a grammar Nazi, not at all. But if you want me to take you seriously, write like you’re serious. Your fluttering adjectives do not excuse your faltering grasp on basic writing rules. And I fucking hate rules. But the basic rules of writing are fairly standard; almost like a constitution. Unless you follow it while making a law, or in your case, writing, it will not be taken seriously. Most of the time.

I love you to the bone.

Metal on metal
sparks of life.
Crunch like captain.
tastes like death.
No more ticking.
time is up.
The glass shatters.
instant slow motion.
A million prisms.
fractal light distortion.
Two scratched corneas.
sights of life.
Its all inverted.
wrong side up.
Flesh burning powder.
heart burning regret.
Metal over metal.
metal into wood.
Metal through flesh.
no more burning.
Two dilated pupils.
no more sight.
Puddles of blood.
puddles of alcohol.
Pools of pity…
all dried up.

Had I thought it through
I’d never have spoken to you;
too soon for someone new,
but I just couldn’t help myself.

Your eyes held uncertainty
oh, the possibilities
what if and maybe
I sweep you off your feet

I would continue this
but I have nothing to miss,
nothing but your eyes
and the thought of endless
…

When it comes to love and relationships, I think people overlook one seriously serious possibility; humans may very well not be monogamous by nature. As humans developed the ability of unique thought and feelings, they conjured up a myth that there is and should only be one person for everybody. I’m not too sure where this idea came about, but it seems inherently flawed. The entire idea of love revolves around trust, but throughout the rest of the animal kingdom, trust gets you killed. Why are humans different? Because we can decipher right from wrong? Because we can hold back from simply biting into and gnawing away the flesh of another? Most of the time, this is true; but with the lack of violence comes an overwhelming amount emotional burden. Instead of simply eating those who break our trust or those silly enough to trust you, we bottle it up, racking our brains with thoughts of why, when, how, and what if.

In no way is this meant to be cynical. Love, when it truly happens, is magnificent. It has the power to save a lost life, to invigorate the lonely, and to restore faith lost upon letdowns and confusion. I hope to fall in love again someday, but I refuse to force it. If two people are meant to fall in love, they will. I don’t actively seek a soulmate; to me seeking the person you’re meant to be with is counter productive. Forcing yourself into relationships because they may be “the one” only keeps you blind to all the other “ones” that come in and out of your life. If, in fact, there is one person that is perfect for another, then you may only meet them once. You may only see them passing by, or overhear them while eating dinner, but that may have been your only chance. And you missed it because you were busy forcing something that isn’t there.

My message is to embrace every person that comes into your life as if they may be the one; don’t overlook anybody. And certainly do not shut out the world simply because you think you already found love; statistics tell me that you didn’t.

You were my last debt of loyalty,
a shimmer in the dust of desperation,
a silhouette against the light that draws.

I lost my taste for the bittersweet, but
you laid a kiss upon my lips,
lingering there for me to lick
every time my ego hardened and
my skin went stale with dejection.

Oh, how I wish you were here
for me to inhale your lively scent,
to feel the warmth that blisters me
whenever the world goes cold again.

Blessed are the ignorant
in this ravenous world,
for they know no evil.
And you stole away my thoughts
with an arctic smile and curious eyes
that squandered all logic.

With emotions so deplored,
the solace within your heart
kept me from the current of
all the unfulfilled wishes that
the ripped me out, left me to drown.

You always told me to wish for the worst
and I always thought that the clouds
were getting the better of you.
‘Wish for the worst”.
What a silly concept, but now I get it.

We lived in a world all our own,
devoid of reality and the truth it carried,
but now you’re gone and I’m left without
the flights we shared, the nights we dared
to push the limits once again.

You’re gone, and I see the worst of everything.
But at least I’m me again.

I created this tumblr in hopes to provide some insight into a life I have otherwise kept to myself, and a select other few. Aside from the mediocrity of my poetry, I will attempt to write some type of boring, anal-itch-inducing prose a few times a week. I will post with arrogance and stubbornness, convinced that my posts will be read with thorough interest and curiosity. It won’t be until I come back down from this cloud (+1 internet for the reference) that I’ve been on lately, and I read all the inane, uninteresting bullshit that I’ve posted, that I’ll wonder why I wasted so much time on here.

I don’t mind, though. The internet is the world’s biggest time capsule, and I’m going to shit on it as much as I possibly can. I hope to mystify people. Each post hopefully containing something different; humor, inspiration, confusion, and from time to time, an unmasked, unthemed, personal tidbit such as my previous post that will allow the poison to spill from my veins. Play the game of life with me, won’t you? I’m gunning for the bi-level.

You have such a pretty face,

one I’d love to save,

but you talk too much

with nothing to say.

You are quite an open book

but your pages seem blank.

and this is a lot of work

for a silly, lousy lay.

You don’t by chance

come with cliff notes

to help me avoid the semantics

of actually knowing you,

do you?