Friday, April 17, 2009
yet wonder more,
why my head hurts.
And why it's like dirt
getting stepped on
lasting an eon.
But really the feeling will only last 'til dawn.
Worked my shell
fought and I fell,
through this layer.
I left my parents an unanswered prayer.
What's to say
when the price to pay,
opposite of your families ointment.
These shackles are binding,
and people aren't minding
what's not their own buisness.
Instead they're passive and equal carelessness.
An addiction so early,
never knew it so surely.
But it was there now and then,
again and again.
Repetitive in both me and a friend.
I only wish I'd have not been so blind,
not have left love behind.
I was unbelieving,
Of ones heart,
now she's known as a tart.
However this succubus still controls my heart.
I hope not to stain
my blood with their pain.
Her emotional strain,
and sever my families gain.
For I seem to care less,
each and every day.
Make a mess-
I make away
with their slow decay
like acid rain.
To the family and lovers
Both o'so beautiful.
Friday, March 27, 2009
I could escape this place. 6
But everywhere I go- 7
my past follows. 4
Like my shadow it's right behind me, 9
says nothing, 3
moves with me, 3
so much in sync I can only imagine it's there. 13
When I finally think, 6
and look back. 3
Just like my shadow, it's there. 7
The spilled milk is just that, 6
as foolish as I've been, 6
I think it's time to clean up. 7
Time to start moving, 5
get running, 3
get sprinting, 3
and run from the known emptiness, 8
to something that's worth having. 7
To the unknown pavement, 6
and the unknown trees. 5
Maybe spot some trains, 5
we'll just have to see. 5
The path that lies ahead 6
is not where I am now. 6
So I'll move now, 4
and worry about the new problems later. 11
Because all in all, 5
that's all there'll ever be. 6
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
into bare of ocean.
On the dock
all a mock
install the shock.
There's a girl I know
says she's down, but no
thinks he's clown so
she said bye.
My friend stands by,
nothing but wait and listen.
Taking in with hate of her byes definition.
I've seen I'm hope.
Like the soap to clean the cut,
I see no sheen and everything
should be right, though it's not.
Sought- for the answer
to go and help them.
Show the ace from up my sleeve,
give them something to believe.
The third person who's seemed to leave,
is her friend.
I meant to mend,
it's all pretend.
We are four,
not from before
instead we are...
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
on the tracks
spraypaints that came off the racks.
if there's heat.
Move your feet.
Vandal squad is up and sprintin,
No time to nod it's time to start squintin,
as your eyes get watery
from the cold that seems so fiery.
run from the fate
of getting caught
Monday, January 19, 2009
Although I must say that I questioned (In my mind) why you would be afraid of someone being nice to you? I could understand her thinking I liked her from inviting her to the movies, but when I laid down next to her bed it was because of the way the room was set up. As you open the door the first thing to the left was the bed she was in, in the middle of the room more or less to the left side, was my little cousin on the floor. And on the top side of the room was another bed, this was where her brother was sleeping. The TV was on a little drawer/mini-desk across from her brothers bed.
The reason I laid down next to her bed was for two reasons. 1)It was nearest me and provided best cover of anyone seeing me 2) I either laid there, or walked across the room over my cousin and next to her brothers bed, with the bed partially blocking TV view.
I'm lazy, and I wanted to watch the TV/ knew that my mom was going to come looking for me. So I picked the spot that I felt best.
After her brother told me this, I figured I wouldn't even consider making any kind of moves on her, so the rest of the day was just focused on the snow. Throughout the day though, I talked to her brother. He was actually pretty alright for a 12 year old. We had conversations on Graffiti, Spore, Weaponry, C-walking, Breaking, Computers, Movies, Music etc.
At the snow, I think I showed my family a truer side of myself. I was constantly cursing, never really caring who heard me, and also when it came to riding these snow sled things I always took dangerous paths. I did it because they picked up more speed and also they had bumps in the snow that caused me to get a hellof a lot of air-time. My Dad was amazed at how many times I repeatedly flew in the air without getting hurt. The best memory I had there was that I had a full 2-3 second hang time on one of the jumps. It felt great, right up until I landed. As I landed I realized there was a tree in my path so I had to roll off the sled. Luckily for me I have strong bones, I was sure that if I hadn't that my wrist would've shattered due to the angle my hand hit the ground and the awkwardness of the roll I had to perform.
After using the sled things for a while I got extremely tired. I decided I was done for the majority of the day and borrowed my aunts camera to snap some photos. At first I was having trouble becaused I didn't know how to set up the eye view instead of the display. Once I did though, I was able to get some good shots. I was surprised I was able to because for the longest time people were blurs in the eye view.
When I'd taken a good 20 shots or so I noticed my eyes and my eyelids were in pain. I started complaining for about 10 minutes. As I was complaining though my dad explained that it was probably from the light reflecting off the snow. At first I was kind of skeptical of his knowledge... but I thought about it and it made a little bit of sense, and it would also explain why my eyes were hurting and no one elses were (Because of the eye view with the camera, I guess it was more concentrated light on my eye than normal).
So the day turned out fine, and when we came back to the house I started reading the book I had with me. I was at peace in the room I was in while everyone was out in the kitchen eating. Or I was up until my sister came in and started buggin me. Something I found odd was that every time she reaching over to grab one of my pencils or the eraser pen I had, I had an automatic thought of where I could strike to either knock her out or kill her. The majority of the spots were in the neck, but of course I didn't act on those thoughts... well not exactly on them. I did instead, hit her in the forhead with the eraser pen. She began complaining so I told her to shut up and go away. As always, she didn't listen.
When she didn't leave I set rules for her, if she stayed she wasn't allowed to talk, sing, or annoy me. She half-ass abided to the rules and didn't sing or annoy me. That is, up until she began talking. She kept trying to start conversations and I didn't want to talk because I was obviously reading. To get my attention she grabbed the clipboard I had kept asking if she could borrow a paper. I said no. Yet there is no end to the girls annoyance, and she kept asking. Eventually I took the clipboard and hit her on top of the head. She again began complaining and finally decided to leave the room.
Once everyone was done eating, we left the house and began our way home. It wasn't that long of a ride, but I was the only one that didn't sleep at all along the way. I sat there reading for maybe a quarter of the time, and then the other rest of the time I just of thought about different things.
Upon arriving home, I went inside, played with my sisters cat for a bit, then went to bed.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
I absolutely hate Policeman, and any other kind of authority. Maybe it's my teen angst. I'm not quite sure. I feel that it's too much a responsibility to give a human the job to judge a persons actions. My belief in humans is based on what I've seen through my years (16 and counting, not long I know), but I've come to believe that we're completely abusive, and an untrustworthy species. Also something I've noticed, is that we always judge. For the majority I think that humans judge on a personal level, not generally. It seems that if in your past something bad has happened to you that when seen again, you'll react in a violently, avoidably, or in an aggressive manner.
I have always thought like this since I was a kid. But before, I thought it was just me, it felt as if I was just being selfish in my own way. When I was 8 I claimed I wanted to die. I began hating life all because of some girl not liking me. After my mom talked to me and made me stop saying that, I began blaming god, then again after speaking to me, I blamed the Devil. I guess that my mom became alright with it because she never tried talking to me about it again.
My point however, is that I blamed the Devil for something I was mad about, I reacted aggressively and violently towards the (idea of the) Devil, and was avoiding the fact that I was just not liked by someone. I recall truly loathing him. It felt as if- if I were to kill him, I'd be happy. In my mind, I felt that the most just retribution for him would be a purely simple task... to die. However that isn't the most odd part. I wanted to kill him, constantly that night I kept thinking about how I would take a knife and just stab him in the neck (At the time I thought that if you stabbed someone in the neck, it was an instant and painless death).
This lead me to believe the aggressive manners of a human being. And until recently, I always thought it was just me- along with the people who had anger management issues (who knows, maybe I'm one of them). Continuing on with the reasons why I believe these things about humans- my next part is about what made me believe all people must have the qualities coming from bad past experiences listed earlier.
I used to write graffiti (eventually I might make a blog about it). One day, I was on my home from my friends house. I hadn't been in a good mood all day, and I did feel just a little bit as if something bad was going to happen, but on my way home I decided to tag a sign down the street from my house. I have tagged it before, tagged around the area, across the street from it, I've even tagged the poll next to it(!), and never- not once- has anyone ever seen me. And if they have, they've never stopped to complain. This day though... was different.
After finishing up, I capped my utensil, and began heading home. As I was walking I heard a huge screech. I turned looking at the street and there was this gold Camry. It was doing what I thought was an illegal U-Turn. This causing me to consider about 20 different situations for driving where I thought it could lead to serious dangers. After thinking about what was actually going on- I ran.
It hadn't occurred to me at first (or 20Th) thought that it was an undercover Police Unit. 3 Men were in the car on there way to a call about some gang activity (Not me, someone else). As the sped up to chase around the corner I'd taken, I was trying to plan my escape route. However at the time, I hadn't expected more than one Policemen (The undercover car was a huge surprise as it was). So I began running towards a friends house, where I would turn the corner out of sight, then double back just a bit to enter his backyard. My plans were shatter as they turned the corner because I hadn't even crossed the street.
In reaction I doubled back to run the way I came from, and for a few seconds- they were stuck. I crossed the street and went the opposite way of where I started so that I could lose the car by maybe jumping into some random persons backyard. As I glimpsed over my shoulder to see where the car was again my plans were thwarted- The 2 not driving were on my tail.
I looked down the road I was on, and not a one person was outside. Also, I wasn't ahead enough to find a hiding place due to the policeman on feet. There was one hope though, a huge tree was there. If I could have gotten behind it, they'd lose sight of me for just enough time that I might be able to lose there following eyes and jump into a house. Of course though, for the third time. I was fucked. The car pulled around the corner and the driver hit the gas to catch up to me.
I was half way too the tree when he caught up to me. I made a motion to turn around and the driver hit the brakes to turn around again.
At this instant was when I knew there was no way out. So... I stopped. And looked at the officer driving awaiting further instructions. He told me to get on the ground- and I did, with my hands under me, head facing left. I listened. He then ordered I put my hands behind my back. And to not cause any further trouble, I did. As I turned my head to the right while lifting my hands to my back, the driving officer kicked me in the face, and I was then cuffed.
I was kind of in a blur after that, but he fractured one of my teeth completely across the back, made one on the bottom row of teeth chip, and had made another loose. As I listened to see what he was saying, I recall hearing you little fucker don't ever run away. Then the others caught up to us. One of them had been complaining of how he dropped his gummy bears. Another saying how he'd scraped his arm while chasing me. Some time after than when I was being checked by the fire department for damage, I asked who had kicked me in the face... the response of the policeman was "No one kicked you, we tackled you"
They had asked me some questions later on, and I remember the driver stating how he didn't know if I had a gun, and how he has a family to go home to... on the drive to the station later I saw a badge on there shoulders saying GRTF or GTF (something along those lines), underneath reading Gang Related Task Force. Which just made me question, "Why the FUCK would you join this force and complain about how I MIGHT HAVE had a gun?"
The rest of the story is pretty irrelevant and unnecessary.
This event in life made me hate all Policeman alike. And I completely feel that the guy who kicked me had a personal thing against me, or had dealed with someone with someone who'd tagged before and pulled a gun on him. Something either along those lines, or having to do with just plain hating gang taggers is what I think drove him to do it. I'm pretty sure that I'd been obviously cooperating after stopping.
My proof of them being untrustworthy: The lie about not kicking me. I mean they're the police, aren't they supposed to be honest about what happens. My proof for them being abusive: The kick to the face. I really wonder what this guy was thinking when he kicked. And if he was really afraid of a gun being pulled out since he had a gun in his holster that he could have whipped out and pointed at me waiting to see what I had.
Every time I look back on this my adrenaline starts pumping. There were so many different things I could have done. Many ideas I have lead a friend of mine to believe I need psychiatric help. But I refuse to see a shrink. These ideas consist of ways I could have killed the police officers who got me, ways I could kill random policemen(women too), ways I could do that with there own weapons. And which continuously lead to thoughts about how I could kill random people trying to be heroes by catching graffiti writers themselves, then turning them in for the praise.
But... all in all. The problems that occur of assassinations lead me to my title.
"A policeman isn't worth my time". I simply feel if I got caught for it that I'd have to pay for such a long time for doing a very small death-deal that didn't even change the world.
Please Note: I'm NOT going to attempt ANY murder on ANY police officer.