Vincent

10:35 pm: Skinning my senses
I squeeze the world and
Drip it down my throat.
All I breathe is a bloody mess.
Survival is for the emotionless.

The beauty of love
Is lost to jealousy,
With possessiveness and anger
Mutually, one destroys the other.

We forever struggle
Blindly in the field,
Using love as a distraction against
The unpleasant, mere pleasure stimuli.

Cruel words perhaps
But look into you,
With simple observation it is
Failure to see the truth in you.

Coming up for air
Need to inhale but
All I breathe is a bloody mess.
Sever my bleeding senses as I drown.

12:10 am: dying for freedom
i went home to see my family tonight. i found out my bunny died tonight.

apparently she was in her cage but struggled to escape through the crack in the corner. her head was able to become free but the body remained. she was asphyxiated by her own cage. she became tongue tied and twisted and her emotions are now silent.

it happened over a week ago but my family didnt bother to tell me until i left staring into an empty cage. it shouldnt happened this way. she deserved more than just thrown out in the dumpster like some worthless bits of trash.

i should had been there to clean after her, to care for her, to feed her, to stroke her softly i my arms until she fell asleep or at least fucking have a chance to mourn for her. all she wanted was be free but all i did was leave her alone to die a caged virgin.

12:27 am: it is raining out
It has been a long time since it has rained like this. I hear the pitter platter of rain drops onto the library. Instead of wondering around campus aimlessly, I am sitting at a desk working the closing shift at the library. One patron even tempted me with a complaint of how the building was leaking onto the 3rd floor. I imagine the library flooding as students desperately burn their late night oils to pass their midterms. The rain is tempting me, reminding me of all those nights I used to find endless comfort from the cold wet breeze penetrating deep into my bones.

The rainy sounds still get louder every time some enters or exits the library, reminding me of the barriers that now separate us. Instead of the rain itself bringing me relief, it's the nostalgia of that little college boy wondering around that is now my solace.

My bones feel old and tired as now look for warmth beside a fire instead of reassurance in wetness. The days of adventures seem lost and have become nothing more than a fading memory. Youth has become longing and I have become weary.

01:37 am: A Slave to Darkness as I Bleed
I am nothing but a walking knot of emotion. I am nothing but a walking hormone. I am nothing.

Days come as go as I try to marvel at the intricate beauty flowing in everything and everyone. The feeling lingers until the tangled knot of emotion suddenly become undone. The once flowing beauty then suddenly withers into the pungent smell of rotting death and decay. The beauty within me is lost and I am left alone. The world hasn’t changed much around me but what I suddenly feel a need to destroy everything I once cherished and marveled. It’s a ugly filthy feeling, like drowning in toxic sludge that’s eating away at your very soul.

But hopefully, in the end, everything will passes and even the darkest shades of night will see the break of day again. Even though I know the darkness will always return, I am trying to learn how to purge it as fast as I can because life is much easier when beauty’s reign is restored once again. Someday manic depression may not seem like such a frustrating mess.

04:37 am: the sky is bleeding
I sense the sunrise - the sky is starting to turn red but the darkness around me is still standing ground. This brave new day will bring a new beginning but what if I don’t want to let go of the last one? Everything feels like it is slipping away - I can’t keep with the days and nights always coming and going without me. I can do nothing but smoke cigrettes and look at the world in dismay.

Every night comes and goes without leaving anything to remember them by.

02:41 pm: my birth
I am Vincent’s unborn fetus. Twenty, soon to be twenty-one people of mixed genders are in a terribly overcrowded room, four of which are first-time childbearing women in a major hospital in Shenyang, China on the night of July 12th 1986. There are no curtains, no dividers to hide from the strangers in the room, everything is left to bare. The soon to be mothers consist of: a teenager from the countryside, a young native of the city, a disparaged girlfriend of a foreigner, and my own mother screaming from my involuntary pushing against her parturient canal. Of the sixteen unaccounted people, fifteen are friends or family of the birthing women, leaving the only remaining person a rude untrained nurse. I am nervous, unsure of what I will face upon exiting the comforts of my comfortable sheltered womb. I have reached a point where my surroundings no longer can sustain me.

My birthday of July 13th is growing ever closer; the time is now 9:40 PM on the night of July 12th. A doctor walks in, promised looks briefly fills the room with delight until he suddenly shouts for the screaming mothers to “SHUT UP!”, announcing that they are disturbing his slumber. He injects each of them with a formula that forces them to give birth almost instantaneously. The moment has come, my mother has finally found her peace, I must now let go or her pain will never cease. There will be no doctor to catch my slippery newborn body, money needed to be passed under the table for that. I am about to be born into a world where countless foreign trials await. It’s time to crawl out of my shell and embrace the perpetually changing world; I come out head first face down, ripping the perineum of my tiny 94 pound mother in the process. My eyes are seasoned over from peppers my mother was eating throughout the pregnancy; I see the world for the first time with a blood-red tint. Despite the clock not actually hitting midnight yet, the doctor puts my birth date as July 13th, one day later than the actual date, so my parents would charge for an extra day on the bill. There is no one to sew up my mother; she lies in the agony of this world I must embrace.

03:00 am: money and the dying muse
i saw people standing in line stretching a few city blocks in walnut creek today. at first i thought it was some sort of book signing but the line stretched onward past a corner bend where people were wearing iWasThere shirts. the line finally seemed to stop at a iApple store. a suburban-wanna-be-gangster-looking-tye-kid stepped out the store holding a bag and everyone started taking pictures and clapping before news cameras swarmed him. he apparently was trying to sell the contents of the bag - it went up to $750 by the time i finished walking by the scene. the bag apparently held a iphone. i didnt end up stopping but apparently some thought it was a big deal.

it seemed to be too much hype for something that will surely only distance people like me from the ones who are close to me. instead of actual contact, we would be left resorting to a series of LOLs and HAHAs without actually showing emotion whatsoever. perhaps we will "evolve" to a point when we have no need for feelings. we would live our lives without having to ever leave a pixilated screen -replacing any need for actual human contact. we would not longer need touch or feel the warmth of one another now that we have the radioactive glow of plasma lcd screens.

cyber sex could replace sex and we could just leave our digital fingerprints for artificial kids to exist in a artificial universe. humans will surely die off in about a hundred years but who cares when the program will run - leaving the fate of our race in nothing more than a complex computer program. hell, it surely would be better for this world. why needlessly worry about something as trivial as feelings and touch when we could all be emotionless in a perfect fantasy world.

maybe i am insane but i wouldnt spend 15 tanks of gas or 200 packs of cigarettes on the hype.

apparently people think i dont care to spend as much money as most people. i can see why. nobody ever sees me spend money on anything other than gasoline and cigarettes. on very rare occasions, someone might spot my buying food but does that make me cheap? am i a bum? am i a drifter, vagabond for where ever i may roam?

personally, i wouldnt call myself cheap - i feel that i am just not a very needy person. gas gets me places and cigarettes offer me whatever substance and entertainment that i cannot get from other people. whatever i manage to save up is spent on some trip to somewhere i have never been before. nothing tangible remains from my money, just memories of a long forgotten past. i still crave to touch, smell, taste, hear, and see as many feelings in this world as can be. i dont think a new phone would help me here but maybe a trip to new zealand?

i still dont feel like i need some new technological wonder to offer me substance but perhaps i just havent evolved beyond the need for feeling yet.

05:05 am: Liberation in Bondage
For the last few years I’ve been worrying about being bound in cubicle left only to rot away working for the rest of my days but tonight made me realize that that bondage is not what will truly define my life. No matter what we end up doing, we will always become trapped somewhere but it doesn’t mean we aren’t free fulfill any wish outside of that realm.

By day we all work away to survive in this demanding world but the night becomes whatever we make of it.

The world is filled with people like Billy who by day is your mild mannered computer programmer working 9-5 for the man. But by the metamorphous of nightfall Billy turns into Athena - a cross-dressing goddess of war, wisdom and craft who rises to become bound in completely new way. Only this time Billy does not mind this bondage. Rather than wishing to be liberated, he is aroused and restrained only for pleasure.

I don’t mind being bound, without it how would we know what true freedom really is?

01:08 am: tastes bitter but why do i keep eating?
life seems petty. Life still seems overlooked. apparently everything can end at any moment for the reaper is swift and does not judge. I take shit for granted, anything from the beauty of the budding flora around me to the ordinary pieces of lint lying around in the bottom our pockets can be snatched away anytime. I have no control over it. Should I be worried, is it worth worrying over, shall I cry, would anyone even cry with me? It doesn’t really matter, in the end there will be no one left to shed their tears for us all.

You know, I used to count down the days until I could get out of Saint Mary’s College but now my days are winding down I suddenly feel attached to this place. I have been here so long that everything has become familiar and routine.

All the blood sweat and tears I have poured in this place are about to run dry. There is no need to replenish the fluids if I am only going to vainly bleed panic and cry them out again. A fresh start somewhere might be good if I can get off my ass and rebuild the jaded fragments of my life once again.

03:57 am: Into The Great Wide Open
Ive been waiting for things to fall into my lap for too long but don’t know where to start.

I am 20 years old. I am confused - in many ways I am still child but in others I fell old and worn. There are still so many beautiful things I have yet to experience. I have gained lots of knowledge and have seen more than I ever imagined but seem to have all my chips in the wrong pot. Who the hell cares if mirko crocop beats eddie sanchez this Saturday, who cares about what Brandon roy’s free throw percentage is? I need to stop focusing on what other people do and make things happen in my own life.