Untitled Prose 7

Young and warm bodies bending, better thoughts and "no-no"s hanged by the door, you let me in with your chest and your feet, and the drab of your midnight parting left me pinned to the floor.

------

You ruled my hand with rebellious stupor, led it straight through your chest. Your love stained my sheets, and your heart bled through to your bra, that crimson memento still warm on my bed.

Untitled Prose 6

You always come up, the girl I don't know who's out of my league. What ties of heart you have here or there are swept up and away. I'm left to wonder what you're doing and how you feel, but your thoughts I know. I know them from your eyes. You have the same longing eyes. They're searching, and nothing can stop them. They host a fire that will soon be ice. They are destroyers. Nothing can stand your tragic gaze. Everywhere you look, the world falls apart. There's nothing to see, and that's all you want. You're alone, and you think love is hopeless.

But it's not. Look at me. I can bear your heat. I have your eyes. I know your thoughts. You can't expunge me. Just look.

Winter Retrospective

There's all this tension between our quiet hearts, but we're too caught up and worried and shy to sit down and talk about it. Then when I can't keep up and fall behind and start to cough from all the dust, there's only arms half extended and short glances to reel me in, but at that point I've usually had enough. What was bursting on my tongue has finally collapsed into the dire pool of my belly, stirring and sizzling and violently eating up my dreams.

Internet Superpower

I'm sick of the constant back and forth. At least, I'm sick of the infallible hyper-geniuses so populous among the internet. Why does everyone have to be so hostile? And why is it so degrading to be wrong? All debate should be in the spirit of learning. I'm sick of ego ego ego. No one cares about actual progress. Everyone just wants to be right. I think chess should be taught in schools. The most important thing I've learned from playing chess is that losing is a blessing. Don't aim to lose, but when you do, and you will, you should embrace it. It's how we learn. It's how everyone in all of history has learned. Trial and error. Mistakes reveal corrections.

Progress.

But not on the internet! The second you utter something suspicious, you have a league of self-righteous, online superheroes force-feeding you all the truth in the world. I'm sick of it. It's destructive. Kind of like capitalism, or at least what capitalism's become. Taking every advantage over others to further one's own cause. Taking every opportunity to edge out the competition. Ego ego ego. I'm sick of it. I want other other other.

Chiptunes!

Just thought I'd share some of my favorite chiptune albums, mainly because I'm bored... and, oh yeah... I JUST GRADUATED!


Power Supply by Anamanaguchi

 



Error Repeat by little-scale

NEUTRALITE by Disasterpeace

Sassy Wisdom by OxygenStar

Quiet Songs For Computer People by Falling For A Square

To All Compassion Gives

The Mouse's Petition,

 Found in the Trap where he had been confin'd all Night.

by Anna Laetitia Aikin

OH ! hear a pensive captive's prayer,
For liberty that sighs ;
And never let thine heart be shut
Against the prisoner's cries.

For here forlorn and sad I sit,
Within the wiry grate ;

And tremble at th' approaching morn,
Which brings impending fate.

If e'er thy breast with freedom glow'd,
And spurn'd a tyrant's chain,
Let not thy strong oppressive force
A free-born mouse detain.

Oh ! do not stain with guiltless blood
Thy hospitable hearth ;
Nor triumph that thy wiles betray'd
A prize so little worth.

The scatter'd gleanings of a feast
My scanty meals supply ;
But if thine unrelenting heart
That slender boon deny,

The chearful light, the vital air,
Are blessings widely given ;
Let nature's commoners enjoy
The common gifts of heaven.

The well taught philosophic mind
To all compassion gives ;
Casts round the world an equal eye,
And feels for all that lives.

If mind, as ancient sages taught,
A never dying flame,
Still shifts thro' matter's varying forms,
In every form the same,

Beware, lest in the worm you crush
A brother's soul you find ;
And tremble lest thy luckless hand
Dislodge a kindred mind.

Or, if this transient gleam of day
Be all of life we share,
Let pity plead within thy breast,
That little all to spare.

So may thy hospitable board
With health and peace be crown'd ;
And every charm of heartfelt ease
Beneath thy roof be found.

So when unseen destruction lurks,
Which men like mice may share,
May some kind angel clear thy path,
And break the hidden snare.     

Everyone and all their beliefs, and no one really knows what's going on.