Since my last post is quite lame...

Hopefully, this picture is somewhat clear... I received a postcard with this on it in my poetry class. It is a Marc Chagall entitled "To Russia, Asses and Others", which is also the title of the poem.


Off in the darkness
there seems to be
a gnarled tree and
a man dreaming
of how things
used to be

Her animals and children
rely on the red
dominance of a horned
monster for sustanance,
so they must suck
from the monster

And she, with pin point holes cut into her body,
holds an idle, empty pale and tosses
her head in the dark air towards
smoky crimson and seems to see
her man in the darkness, and wonders
where and why he is lost and gone
and if he'll ever be
that man he used to be.

just want to feel...

I'm lame. It's late. I'd come up with an entry more clever, involved and intriguing, but I'm tired, and time is wearing my skin thin... I wish things were simpler. Well, no, that's a lie. I'd get bored. I'm just so exhausted... too many questions, obligations, confusion. What grad school? What guy? What sex? When to work? When to play? When should I keep quiet? Can I figure it out by myself? Is it fair? Fair to me? When to be selfish? When to be single? Too immature? Too independent? Should I lose weight? Should I wear that t-shirt? When is a good and decent bed time? How many hours should I put this work off?

I could go on, and on, and on... but instead, I really just feel like falling back into my old, shitty self. Throw myself into a street. Tie a concrete block to my right foot and hand (strongest side) and fall into a river, an ocean, a rain puddle. Not very creative ways... I'd prefer the latter though... killing oneself is selfish enough, so I wouldn't want to ruin anyone's car. Ugh, I hate when I get like that... It's really annoying and bothersome and no one likes that. The bright side is that I wouldn't truly kill myself, I don't want to. I just think about it, but I instead drift off to sleep, exhausted of thoughts of death.