Sunday, October 28, 2012

Care?

Who cares? Do you care? Most of us are pretty good at pretending to care. Does it actually matter to

you? Do you actually care about that sad puppy on facebook? I guess the fact that you hit 'like' means

 that you do right...? Good job. You made a difference. I check my blog more than facebook these

days. I care about that. I'd rather hear a comment about something important I wrote than about how

your Sadie's date was. Do we care about politics or do we just care that people think that we care. If

you cared then maybe you would run for office because nothing else is working. Leave the politics to

the debate kids because that's enough pretend carers. Care care care care care care. I've now said that

word a lot and it has no meaning. But who cares anyway. If highschool cliques end after highschool,

then who cares how I act. But do they go away in the real world? I don't think so, but I hope so. I care

about you.
                                             

                                                  




                                                 



                                                 

                                                         

                                                        





                                      



                                                         




                                                





                                                   


                                                    
                                                            


                                                 

Monday, October 15, 2012

My yellow Lego house

I built on these bricks

A yellow Lego house.

We lived on these bricks

You were quiet as a mouse.

We had guests on these bricks

One without a spouse.

We ate on these bricks

But never brussell sprouts.

You died on these bricks

You left me petrified.

I cried on these bricks

Till there was nothing left inside.

I tried on these bricks

To bring you back to life.

I was tied to those bricks

Like Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde.





In the bricks is where you and I reside.

Monday, October 8, 2012

....

I've decided to give up on attempting to express my thoughts and ideas through writing. It's too hard to be as indie as everyone wants you to be.

Seriously though... You deep indie writers have the most peculiar writing styles. To be honest, I don't understand what you're saying half of the time, and I even doubt that you know what you're saying. Do you know? Sounds like gibberish to me.

Since when did you have to be utterly insane and twisted to be a good writer? Who was the first man to look at an incredibly abstract piece of literature and say "Holy crap this is good"? Because it seems that as soon as he said that, everyone else was just like "uuuuurrrr.. Okay :P this is gooooood sturrrf".
It's not good stuff. Why cant beautiful literature be completely understandable? Why do I have to become an alcoholic to understand what beauty is?

NONE OF YOU HAVE ANY TALENT!! YOU'RE HARDLY SPEAKING ENGLISH!! Sorry.... I didn't mean to blow up like that. You guys are very talented. I guess I'm just mad that I can't understand what you're saying. Teach me??

Writing is beautiful.