Waiting

Knocked out by the anxious awaiting of answers and conclusions sitting on an old couch. Smoke pushes smoke out of screens and opera would be appropriate for this setting. Bought out by brands and corporations mud the visibility of a promising future. Wake up to phones ringing, the caller is an enemy. You stir in bed waiting for her return and you wait for justice and you wait.

Waiting and always waiting with anxious hands shaking over a keyboard.

You want the stranger out of your life, the threat to be eliminated but you ask too much.

Threats are constant and you are always defensive.

He stole her lips and you never want it to happen again.

His name shivers your spine and you get claustrophobic when his name is used in shared sentences.

An enemy you will never meet.

But you hope you'll meet so that enemy will become a friend.

Friends always start as enemies.

Raise your flag and get on your knees

faith and preservation

you pray for sun to illuminate the dark land

but clouds are in the distance

close by a notch

wait

wait

and wait


but that will get you no where.

Empty Threats

My words fall silent on deaf ears so I strike my threat from the history and continue to post.

One voice will be enough to keep me posting.

Huzzah

More to come

Here it goes

So blogging is turning out to become less and less interesting to me.

I don't know if I am reaching anyone, if anyone is listening, if anyone is reading, because its like I said in my profile, i'm preaching to an empty room. Maybe I'll benefit from just writing privately.


IE

Someone tell me if you are listening. The more listeners (or viewers)

the more I'll write.


yes...

this is a threat...

and its very empty because its not like anyone gives two shits about this.


Here we go?


AlexHCurtis@gmail.com


tell me if you read.

tell me if you like.

tell me to shut up.

or tell me to continue.

and if you read this... and don't write me a response...

then fuck you.

On Being Strange

Where is the inspiration to raise a family in this world anymore?

Are the principals of family life from, say the 50's, completely shot?


Questions get you no where. You know that.



It's too windy, and i'm not in the windy city.

Redundancies and Abundances

Fleetwood Mac is crackling through the speaker and I’m looking up at her from the floor. The fan blades are spinning over her head and she is singing along. We’ve over clocked our hours and pumped out our energy through our hands. We are as fire to fuel: ignition. A force tunneling through obstacle to attain satisfaction. This is love this is love, that I’m feeling.

A girl gave me a book today. Because she felt bad for me.
It did nothing more than make me more upset.
Gifts depress me.
Is that strange?

I don't know.

Forgive Me Or Forgive Me Not.

To apologize is to ask for forgiveness, and forgiving isn't half as easy as saying sorry.

We ask forgiveness for our sins, to ourselves, and to others. We make mistakes and mistakes are made of us, we replace our integrity with impulsiveness and then find ourselves regretful or sorry for our actions but do we assimilate those feelings or just spurt them out when we know the error of our way. It comes out quicker than an explanation and can go away faster than a passing moment.

We forget more than we forgive.