My Walk Out of Hell Part 2

Just walk. Walk. Hesitation is not an option. One foot after the other, yard by yard, foot by foot, inch by inch. Move forward. Always move forward. Head up, eyes open. What though does it mean to have open eyes? Those windows to the soul, receptors of all things visual. So then, how is it possible that I've been so blind while walking through life eyes wide open? My soul, gazing through open windows, reflecting upon my true inner self sees something slightly mystiftying. Why do I see myself as such an evil person? Why do I so easily and willingly condemn myself? This eighth circle I trudge through contains those willingly treacherous... I am not so. Occasionally a bit of a jerk, sure, but why do I force myself to dwell here? Why do I so intently punish myself as someone who doesn't care about others? I must come to terms with the fact that I am a compassionate and caring human being. That occasionally means putting myself on the line, and occasionally taking risks for others. Moving forward. Always forward. Keep marching. That isn't a treacherous thing to do at all. Move forward, realize, understand, and move forward. I continue onward. More from my journey later.

My Walk Out Of Hell Part 1.

This, is the end result of several nights of painful self realization. I am just going to flow with this writing, and eventually, i hope to publish some of these vanity press style and hand a few copies out to close friends who have helped with all of this madness... Anyways, here we go:

Nine circles create the pit of self propagated hell i have been living. Despair, agony, depression, hatred, self loathing, the list is a long one. where do i begin? where do i go from here? my body begins the trek, pleading, urging, prodding and begging my soul to walk those charred, crumbling steps out of this self created hell. satan, sits in the very bottom. a long time friend. a long time foe. he doesnt seem too terribly thrilled about me leaving. strong claws, grip, in an ironically icy grasp, my arm. for all the heat in this place, that bastards got a cold grip. it makes sense though, if you think about it, for he is the one truly heartless. for if i was truly heartless myself, then i as well would be so cold. i break away. i need this in my existence no longer. i must free myself of this demon, and the many others blocking my path to the gate. I trudge across this, lowest circle of hell... it is easy to walk around... i have even, temporarily removed myself from this lowest pit, only to find myself in one of the higher ones... to hit a bump and slide back down. how now, do i reach the gate, open it and walk out into the light? i start the ascent.


:aside: and a quote "misery is too self absorbed to want much company" :end aside:

Pulled Under at 2000 Meters a Second

Just freedom is only a hallucination
That waits at the edge of the distant horizon
And we are all strangers in global illusion
Wanting and needing impossible heaven

Chasing the dream as they swim out to sea
The mirage ahead says that they can be free
Become lost in delusion drowning their reason
Swept on by the current of selfish ambition

Frightened ashamed and afraid of the blame
The questions are screaming the answers are hiding
The sickness is growing distracted condition
You can feel the disgust and smell the confusion

Lying insane getting soaked in the rain
Draining the sky of the guilt and the shame
The nightmare is coming the clouds are descending
Pulled under two thousand metres a second

Clawing at walls that just slip through my fingers
Darkness consuming collapsing and breaking
Distilled paranoia seeped into the walls
And filled in the cracks with the whispering calls

Shadows are forming take heed of the warnings
Creeping around at four in the morning
Lie to myself start a brand new beginning
But I'm losing my time in this fear of living

Freedom is only a hallucination
That waits at the edge of the places you go when you dream
Deep in the reason betrayal of feeling
The mistakes that I made tore my conscience apart at the seems

Freedom is only a hallucination
That waits at the edge of the places you go when you dream...

Freedom is only a hallucination
That waits at the edge of the places you go when you dream
Deep in the reason betrayal of feeling
The mistakes that I made tore my conscience apart at the seems

Freedom is only a hallucination
That waits at the edge of the places you go when you dream...

The night I almost died...

Last night in a drunken conversation I stumbled accross an old memory, of the night I damn near died. It was the best sleep I have ever had.

I Love This Song

The water pours its embracing arms around the stone
Decay drips from the unquiet void where the ice forms, where life ends
The stone is by the crimson flood, swallowed
The red tide beyond the ebon wound, contorted
My sacrifice bids farewell in this river of memory... a wave to end all time
Red birds escape from my wounds and return as falling snow
To sweep the landscape; a wind haunted, wings without bodies
The snow, the bitter snowfall
You wish to die in her pale arms, crystalline, to become an ode to silence
In the soul of a mountain of birds, fallen
The cascading pallor of ghostless feather
The snow has fallen and raised this white mountain on which you will die and fade away in silence

Tonight's Music

Who could call my name without regretting
Who could see beyond this my darkness
And for once save their own prayers
Who could mirror down just a little of their sun

How could this go so very wrong
That I must depend on darkness
Would anyone follow me further down
How could this go so very far that I need someone to say
What is wrong
Not with the world but with me

Who could call my name without regretting
Who could promise to never destroy me
Tonight my head is full of wishes
and everything I drink is full of her

And today...

I feel nothing... Simply drifting. Simply existing. Simply breathing.

Those destined to be remembered as great are often those most miserable while they live. Kurt Cobain, Salvador Dali, Elliot Smith, Edgar Allen Poe, Jaco Pastorius, Vincent Van Gogh, Judy Garland, Marilyn Monroe, etc. Those who paint with pigments created of their own blood, sweat or tears. Those tortured souls playing instruments made of their own heartstrings. Vocal chords ripped to shreds emitting pitiful wails or screams of woe. Those who are destined to be great, must suffer, and those who achieve such status without stepping on the backs of others are oft worse off, for they are the ones who sacrifice themselves selflessly to do for others. I have often felt that I am one of these... What picture will my blood paint? What music will my screams of torment create?

They Called Me Eeyore in Highschool...

"It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily.
"So it is."
"And freezing."
"Is it?"
"Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."


The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch as which?" and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about.


Nobody tells me. Nobody keeps me informed. I make it 17 days come Friday since anybody spoke to me.


After all, what are birthdays? Here today and gone tomorrow.
-Eeyore


"Pathetic," he said. "That's what it is. Pathetic."
He turned and walked slowly down the stream for twenty yards, splashed across it, and walked slowly back on the other side. Then he looked at himself in the water again.
"As I thought," he said. "No better from this side. But nobody minds. Nobody cares. Pathetic, that's what it is."


"Good morning, Eeyore," said Pooh.
"Good morning, Pooh Bear," said Eeyore gloomily. "If it is a good morning, which I doubt," said he.
"Why, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, Pooh Bear, nothing. We can't all, and some of us don't. That's all there is to it."
"Can't all what?" said Pooh, rubbing his nose.
"Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush."


One can't complain. I have my friends. Someone spoke to me only yesterday.
-Eeyore

Truth. (original content)

You. Yes, You. This is for you. The collective you. Everyone of you. The owner of the broken heart, that's not mending within your ribcage. Your soul is laid bare on your sleeve. This is for you. Written, by one soul, for another soul in particular, and no other soul altogether. Surprisingly, the mind behind this is sober.

As someone accused, and often rightfully so, of enjoying wallowing in his own misery, depression, disdain, and self loathing I can say that it really isn't where I want to be. My heart is trapped in a pit, covered with the rotting remains of three distinct and very different heart breaks. So far, two people could hold their nose long enough to dig through one layer of filth only to uncover the next. At which point, both of these people covered up this pit, with themselves, and the heartbreak that ensued from that.

Rumor has it, or a couple close friends of mine, that are obligated to say this, that there is something incredible at the bottom of this pit. And as they are friends, they are not required to dig much, the thin silt hiding me from friends is easily swept away. It is beyond difficult for people I am in relationships with to see this. Why?

If I am so great to be with, take such great care of you, or make you feel good about yourself, how can I be so easily cast away? The main three have also said that they do not deserve me, I however feel differently. I am not forced to give these things to you, nor do I feel obligated. Whatever I give or have given you is absolutely by choice, whether you feel like you deserve it or not, I know that you do, and if there were any doubts in my heart or soul about such, I would not give these things to you.

These questions, these thoughts, how to think, what to feel, are constantly going round and round my mind. So heavy on my mind and heart are these things that in my normal, waking hours I am mogadon. Sleep, if it is to be found, usually offers a temporary break from these things, although getting to the world of dreams is nearly impossible for me, returning to my misery in the waking world is far more difficult. Sleep is one of few places where the minutes turn to hours and I'm not wearing a face full of pain. My pursuit of sleep has become something of an art, the occasional masterpiece showing up in the form of a full nights sleep.

Regretfully it has also become a far greater vice of mine then I had ever hoped possible, although it undoubtedly leads me closer to becoming a truly broken beyond repair excuse of a human being. Is it because of my age that I drink so much? There have been a couple nights where I flat out scared myself with how much I drank. Lately this has been taken to the absolute extreme, empty bottles littering my porch and counter top, full ones crowd my freezer, fridge and closet. Am I going to destroy myself?

Why do I need to feel this emotional pain manifest itself in a physical manner? Physical pain is endureable, to me, emotional pain is absolute agony. The weight of worlds crushes down on the pit of my heart. I almost got in a car accident yesterday, what were my final thoughts to be if I had? Not the life flashback, not my family, not my friends, it was unfortunately, the solace and utter peace of knowing that the pain I feel here, and now, will be nothing compared to that when my soul is burning in the pits of hell.

My advice to any treasure seekers, looking for this rumored golden heart of mine. Don't do it. I don't want to add the pain of something else to the pile. I don't want to toe the edge of what could be and watch you step back. I don't want to watch you wake up one morning and tell me that night that you don't see me as a part of your life anymore. I don't want to watch a freak accident become an incredible burden to both of us and self destruct what we have. Gold and silver are not worth destroying yourself for. I am a fools gold and I hold a fools hope. Do not waste your time on me.

You. Yes, You. This is for you. The collective you. Everyone of you. The owner of the broken heart, that's not mending within your ribcage. Your soul is laid bare on your sleeve. This is for you. Written, by one soul, for another soul in particular, and no other soul altogether. Surprisingly, the mind behind this is sober.

Original content

Awake.
Through windowblinds sunlight bled.
Haul your sorry ass out of bed.
From deep sleep dreaming of death.
That day we take our final breath,
Before laying pitiful thoughts, hopes and dreams to rest.
Though quietly sulking through all depth,
Of mind, body and soul alike,
A fragment of desire,
A piece of hope not drowned in the mire,
That minuscule fleck, the last piece causing my emotional wreck, reminds me of walking through dark hours together, maybe this is a temporary storm in the weather?
That batters, pounds and tries to take,
The last fragment of hope still
in my soul awake.
The future we shall never know,
our faith, in such to god we owe.
That broken fragment may one day grow,
From withered remains,
becoming whole again.

and here is the rest of my shit.

Empty bottle, empty soul,
Drink another drop to fill the hole,
Where did all the happiness go?

How much longer until you break me?
When will beautiful death come take me?

I run my hands through my hair,
Whoever said that life was fair?

These drunken flailings, they never fail me,
To provide some peace, a momentary release,

From my own worthless existance here.
A friend once told me depression fits me as a glove,
not to tight nor to snug,

A chokehold on the soul,
until its dead and cold.

until my body lies unbreathing and old,
forever shoveling dirt to fill this hole.

of my own grave, headstone depraved.
a faceless, nameless, rotted sack of shit.

i imagine it would be easier to quit.
maybe ill be ok when i sober up a bit.

More on the way.

Reverend reverend is this some conspiracy?
Crucified for no sins
An image beneath me
Whats within our plans for life
It all seems so unreal
I'm a man cut in half in this world
Left in my misery...

"A Fine Day To Exit"

Its one a.m. I'm driving to the beach. A fine day to exit is playing. Am I really writing while driving? Yes. Is it safe? No, absolutely not. However, to fully capture the thoughts, feelings, emotions, and essence of the character of this album, I feel it necessary to write this while I drive. I will edit it when I am safely back at my residence however. Let's begin.

I have been dealt several severely crippling blows emotionally over the past 5 years. (as has the character in the record, and some would argue everyone else alive today, however, I am doing this for me, not for them and therefore I don't care.) :aside: I just saw a shooting star :end aside: the freeway is remarkably empty for a Friday night, and it isn't even remarkably late yet... The emptiness I am surrounded by, this blissfull blackness encroaching on my very existence is a welcome companion on this drive. Headlights of oncoming traffic stare me down but the fact that there is one car ahead of me and two cars behind, matches my very feelings. That I am on my own road, devoid of fakes and imitators. One rear car just left the freeway. Good. One step closer to truely being alone. This is going to be a long post, I can definitely already tell.

The dots marking lanes fly by. My exit nears. 76 west, one mile. Next right. I am off the freeway. The black hugs me tighter. The stoplights setting the pace of my journey, multifaceted jewels glowing, red, yellow, green. The road is empty. I am truly alone. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. I have found true solitude. I love the complete emptiness, the blackhole void that has opened behind me. Consuming all light. All matter. All hope. All emotion. A wondrous numbing agent. Can one feel any more numb than I was today? Is that possible? Is this what living death feels like? (as with the character on the record, I am confused, slightly numb, apathetic, disappointed, hurt, unsettled, and alone. I am all of these at once, and try also I am none of these.) What do I do? This question is easily the most pressing one. There are thousands of solutions to my problems popping in and out of my mind as flashcards are shown to children learning addition. Will this action plus that reaction equal my solution? (there is one difference between my situation however, and the character of the record in that I will be returning from the ocean this morning whereas he did not, the character in the album goes crazy and kills himself in the ocean, his suicide note reading five simple words: 'a fine day to exit') I draw nearer to my destination, signs acting as a countdown. I unfortunately do not anticipate my journey to leave me with answers and fewer questions but rather more questions and fewer answers. What am I looking for? Why am I being pulled so strongly toward the ocean? Either coincedentally or by design, my thoughts match the album, the song 'panic' having just reached its conclusion. I pull into the harbor. I pull into a parking spot overlooking the beach. I capture my souvenere. The ocean sounds amazing when you are the only person around. The biting cold of the ocean air dances over my skin. Perhaps I am not as unfeeling as I had wished, hoped, wanted to be. The cold hard reality of my situation is that it is not the case, and things will come rushing back with more feeling, emotion, and thought then they ever previously held. I stop and stare and wonder at the ocean, the sounds, the feelings, the thoughts. This blissful loneliness. I walk out over the pier, gazing into the undying black of the ocean, the waves crashing in my ears, the biting cold on my face, the crushing silence inside my own head, screaming noiselessly at my own insignificance, the vastness of the sand, so many minuscule, insignificant things making up something so impressive and huge. Memories of years past cascade around me, thoughts, feelings, hopes, fears, wishes and dreams. A homeless person sleeps on a bench. This silently screaming reality makes me wonder. What do they think about this place? How do they feel here? The rough, weatherbeaten wood beneath my feet snaps me back to myself. I am as these boards once were. Thriving, and full of life. Now, cut down, trampled, weatherworn, but still existing. A lifeless mass serving what real purpose? Do these planks still feel? Each knot representing a scar, a hard time in life, a difficulty overcome? I have reached my destination. The furthest point I can go and remain dry... It is black. It is truely a blissful embrace to hold nothingness.

I have walked to the edge of the world tonight. I have briefly grasped the edges of my own soul and emotion. The wondrous consuming unknown. Light illuminates the path back towards civilization and myself. The past, as this path that I'm walking are clear, brightly lit, they are safe, there are no hidden concerns in the past. Each wave beginning as a slow ripple, moving with me towards the shore. Each beat of my heart driving me forward into the unknown, the uncertain, the light of the present. I pass the homeless gentleman again. My hands begin to numb.

I am back at my car. My stomach pleads for attention. My heart and soul do as well. A cacophony of noise in my now silent car a stark contrast to the blissful silence I felt in the barage of sound on the pier. I tell them to shut the fuck up. Take me back to that numb. I do not wish to remain here in the silent screaming. I put the record back on. What an incredible thing to walk a mile in the shoes of another. I wish however that the man in the record could keep walking as I am in mine. Marching forward into the unknown at the same pace as everyone else. One second at a time, sixty minutes an hour, twenty for hours a day. One day at a time. It is most difficult to be content with our limited knowledge of what the future holds. I however have given myself something which I did not foresee. I have given myself the memory of the beautiful black silence, my embrace of the emptiness, to forever wipe away the lunacy of any given moment.





---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------





As the pressure grows and these feelings flow
Trample on bodies, bodies in holes of faith
Times I've asked the lord for forgiveness
While kept under a spell of a sweating locust's breath
No need to tell me 'cause it's written on your face
Sliding down now with the black lights shining

I don't care where you go you won't get away from me
Black as the night is day filled with no sympathy
Marching down the hall for a misery
I don't care where you go, you won't get away from me

Mouth tastes of sick, stomach twist inside
Everything's wrong and I can't get away
The gravity of fear you can feel it coming near
It's coming straight for you, it'll twist and drag you down

I don't care where you go, you won't get away from me





Seeing is believing but I don't want to know
Walk on through the wasteland I just can't let go
Face down I just break down when I see you cry
All the time

Hold on
Please
Hold on
To me
Tempt fate
Release
Escape

Someone now is screaming as the flames fly high
Think now that we're lost here and we don't know why
Face down I just break down when I see you cry
All the time

Hold on
Please
Hold on
To me
Tempt fate
Release
Escape

Behind those grey and lonely eyes
Unforgotten by time
Reality is dawning
Our spirit is awakening
And somewhere in the hurricane
Hope is waiting
Crying in the distance
And calling out your name





Is this the one who thought it was insane
Coming down against it all

Didn't want it
Didn't need it
Didn't want it

Twisted face of fading beauty
Count the cost of suffering
Cannot see the day before you
Only feel what's deep inside
Try to change it makes no difference

Didn't want it
Didn't need it
Didn't want it

Let me go

Looking outside inside, craving for something
Hoping for anything, I'll believe in anything
Who has eyes that see, who wants to believe?
In something, in anything, in one thing, in freedom

Looking outside inside

Self-assist pandemonium, broken promises
Tired of life, flying high, you caught me in your eye
Disintegrated, incinerated
This is not now I want to be
Too much is coming through, someone please tell me what to do

Looking outside inside




Born to the glare of the senses
Spoon fed reality infused
A new inherent
Passive contentment
You are so easily amused

Here and now
We are gone in a heartbeat
A dream in the
Passage your time

Chances are failing
This world isn't waiting
The moment is passing you by

Questions lie beneath the surface
The fools are fooled once again
Benign coincidence
We stole our existence
And gladly cast it to the wind

Here and now
We are gone in a heartbeat
A dream in the passage of time

Chances are failing
This world isn't waiting
The moment is passing you by

Slowly spinning on the wind back home





There's always something
You won't dare to say
Your good intentions
Are boring take me away
If it keeps you sane, then it's okay
If I played it safe, would it save me?

I'd like to get some rest now
If I could just ignore the truth
Scratching at the window
This time I've got to make a move
Ego obliteration
Stand back and watch me melt away
Dissolve all recognition

I've got to burn this weight out of my mind
Running through my veins until I disappear

This feeling is over
This feeling is over me

Climbing up the wall
Going to creep between the cracks
Get out of my skull
Tie the rope around my neck
Destroy all emotion
Going to rip me face to shreds
Cut my eyeballs open

I've got to burn this wait out of my mind
Running through my veins until I disappear

This feeling is over
This feeling is over me





Floating with nowhere to hide
Unspoken twist back inside

How did we get here?
Life don't belong here

Feel like I just never tried
To find a way back to the outside
It stops me from breathing
Kills all the dreaming

Talking to you from the other side of a wall in my mind
And it's clear that you're near to me
I think I found a way to understand why I couldn't see what was happening
The fear overcame me
Took a trip on the inside, I took a trip on the inside
I try to hold on until this feeling is gone
Break through to the other side, I need to break through to the other side
Of everything that is hurting you

I just can't lay down and die
It takes a lifetime to understand why
It seems that you're near me
But you don't seem to hear me





You know you ain't going nowhere
You're stuck inside while the mind is flying
You said you'd help me in the morning
Twisting on pins into my eyes
And dragging on the ceiling below you
Fixing up the walls with your crooked hands
While you're miles away, miles away, miles away

I didn't think it'll all end up like this
There's spiders on the wall and they stink of piss
Dead heads lying in the corner
Staring at me making me feel bad
I put my hands up to my eyes
But the holes in my palms let me find a way
To corner you

I can feel my chest crushing inwards
Sucking through my skin into my BRAIN
Oxygen pushing on the window cracks in the glass let
It slip away
I start to cry and I keep on laughing
I close my eyes at what's left inside
And then I'll ran away

For all the time this land
For all the time in my hand
Slip around in depth found
Calmness fall once again

Razor blades floating in the warm bath
Air bubbles in your veins turning my hands black
Whispers coming from the next room
Window cleaner keep on SPYING
I put my hands up to my eyes
But the HOLES in my PALMS let me find
A way to corner me

Twelve tonnes hammer for My breakfast
Slipping of the edge in catatonic blood
Multiple decibel inscriptions trying all they
Can in miles an hour... face
Grey and looming downwards
Sniffing all the time for a ounce of silence
Screaming all the way

Numbers counting down inside me
Solar system thoughts circle round my head
False teeth hanging from the ceiling
Feet looking of the goms of the 2nd son
I eat my hands cos my legs are crying
You Broke my neck cause I Snapped my spine
I wish you would Die away

To all the time in this land
And all the time in my hands
Circle Round in depth found
Calmness Fall once again





Long way from home
Nowhere to go
What made the river so cold?

The sweat of thoughts
Trickle down my brow
Soaking and stinging my eye

You've got to face it head on
So you can turn this thing around
'cause this ain't right

Tell tale sighs and cries
Of dreams unfulfilled
And time is running, running dry

Panic stricken bloodshot hearts
Try to restart
But no longer build the well to survive sweet oblivion

You've got to face it head on
So you can turn this thing around
'cause this ain't right

I've got these feelings and I don't know why
I see all my fears in the darkness of light
What made the river so cold?

Never anyone to rearrange and fall to
Time inside the empty
Call to the blameless, I am faithless
Placid dying eyes

You've got to face it head on
So you can turn this thing around
'cause this ain't right

You have to go eye to eye
Raise your face to the sky
'cause this ain't right

I got to believe when I say
Only this is the way





Deep inside the silence
Staring out upon the sea
The waves washing over
Half forgotten memories
Deep within the moment
Laughter floats upon the breeze
Rising and falling dying down within me

And I swear I never knew how it could be
And all this time all I had inside was what I couldn't see
I swear I never knew how it could be
All the waves washing over all that hurts inside of me

Beyond this beautiful horizon
Lies a dream for you and I
This tranquil scene is still unbroken by the rumors in the sky
But there's a storm closing in
Voices crying on the wind
This serenade is growing colder breaks my soul that tries to sing
And there's so many, many thoughts
When I try to go to sleep
But with you I start to feel a sort of temporary peace

There's a drift in and out

Nothing like this Felt in her kiss
Cannot resist her Fell for her charm
Lost in her arms I keep a photograph
Give me a glimpse Let me come in
Be there inside her Here it begins
Here is the sin Something to lie about

You think you're smart I think you're art
We agree on this It doesn't work
Feeling like dirt Feeling like you don't care
We get a room And in the gloom
She lights a cigarette Clothes on the bed
Love me she said I lose myself to her

I'm getting feelings I'm hiding too well
(Bury the horse shaped shell)
Something broke inside my stomach
I let the pieces lie just where they fell
(Being with you is hell)

Hair blow in an open car
Summer dress slips down her arm
Hair blown in an open car

OK what's next? After the sex
What do we now? Finding the time
Drawing the line And never crossing it
Gave her the hours Gave her the power
Cannot erase her Gave her the truth
Gave her the proof I gave her everything

I'm getting feelings I'm hiding to well
(Bury the horse shaped shell)
Something broke inside my stomach
I let the pieces lie just where they fell
(Being with you is hell)

Hair blow in an open car
Summer dress slips down her arm
Hair blown in an open car
On a drive out to the farm
Hair blown in an open car

Hair blown in an open car
Summer dress slips down your arm
Hair blown in an open car..