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Day 9. Agagagagagag. Here's another piece from the good ol' backlog- a piece which I've post-hoc titled "Distance". Originally, I didn't have a name for it, but I think this'll do just fine. Distance To be broken at such a state is incomprehensible, in this world so out of my control and out of my mind, to the point where it is fracturing, demoralizing, and oppressive. This walking of the line between ability and inability, between possibility and impossibility, leaves me lost walking in a straight line toward a destination which I don’t know if I can reach. The distance from my point on the center dashed line is equidistant to either side of my ego, and as I walk my feet balance precisely atop the ridge where one’s traveling on either side of which causes that drift toward regression or progress.

Day 8. I've only a bit left to spew onto this here blog, so take that as you will. Today's is another from my backlog- a third in line with the last two. Enjoy- this one's more positive than usual! A reason to love It’s those happy moments we’ve had. When we held hands, when we stood in the rain together, when we stuck close in our moments of conflict. It was short, but meaningful. And in those moments I… I was truly happy. I’d like to think that was both of us, at least I hope. I’d like to be back there with someone, someday, just to fill that little hole that’s there when I can’t know someone who can look at me and smile. And in that moment in reality, so far from a dream, I’ll smile back, in earnest, in appreciation, in respect, and in love.

 Day 7. Another from the backlog, same as yesterday. You may start to see a pattern here, name-wise- these are from a project in my Creative Writing class. I hope you enjoy it, either way. Something red Anger is not red. Red is of half-baked goods, of undercooked meats, of tomato bisque. The colour of disappointment, of the end of the rainbow with no pot of gold, the final river crossing where the bridge is out. It is the sands and rocks of the lakeshore harbouring memories of mediocre value, of the positive terminal of a battery which is that same colour of fear. This colour of history, of blood, that one deep red, but also of granite, of being set in stone, of finality. The reddening of the sky and the sunset is that which represents the closing act, the last line before the curtains close and the stage lights darken. Past the end, it is of rust, of things left forgotten and ignored, and a gradual, painful death. And to that end, or in that end, it is the reabsorbment of that dus...

 Day 6... Ough. I'm getting low on material. I've got a big piece I can't wait to release, but it'll have to wait until I've performed it live in class. I hope you're excited for that- I know I am! Ah, but for now, there's this. Another from the backlog! Something confusing Tell me the truth. I don’t know how you really feel, and so I pour out my heart, where yours is locked up. If it’s not too much to ask, all I want is a key. Just a key to open that lock and hold the insides, to gather them and split them and understand them. I want to know your feelings, truly. I want to try to heal those wounds that pain you, even if I can’t. I want to be there for you as you are to me. It muddies my mind and it darkens my heart when you’re blue like you are and you haven’t told a soul. There’s so much I feel when I see you like that, sitting down deep in thought just as I have myself so many times, and it’s overwhelming. It consumes me, this visualization of your though...

Heyo! Day 6, and as I'm writing this (I've scheduled these to release in advance so I don't forget) this is a poem I wrote today (11/29/21). It's... something. But I'm fond of the language I used. Alone, albeit popularity It is a strange feeling. Strange, though, in that I’ve never experienced a life like this. Am I now someone who I once envied? Maybe not. If I, then, could have envied, I was certainly incapable of such a feeling. It’s the way I was, and, to some degree, that which I am.  And that, for sure, is all positive. Even so, though… Even now I feel this reclusive loneliness. Could it be stress? Or that I can’t believe their happy looks toward me? I’d so love to suspend such a disbelief, what with self-esteem and all. I would, I swear. Without a doubt. But I still feel that this is not the real reason behind this wracking feeling. I suppose it’s that no-one looks at me in love.  Not anymore, and however much I wish it to be the case, this popularity, this m...

 Day 5! Here's a piece straight from the heart, about love (and less generic than my last one). Love is Twisted Love is a twisted little thing. It’ll bring you up from the doldrums of your heart. It’ll hold you up, suspended, so far above the little ridges that lie below. Maybe it’ll let you look into their eyes, maybe it’ll be a fresh start. Maybe love will hold your hand, with arms swinging low. But love is a messy little fellow. It’ll let you rust, indifferent to your slow decomposition. It won’t clean up after itself. It’ll make you pick up all the pieces. Maybe you’ll be happy to pick them up, though. Maybe because you think, you feel, that that’s what love needs. But love is always hiding something. It’ll keep a wall up around its true feelings.  It’ll let you get comfortable, and then open up its doors. Maybe you weren’t ready for that. Maybe you’ll let it go, for their sake. But love is fickle. It’ll let you down fast, no lead-in, a single, auditory blast. It might not...

Day 4, and we're still going strong! Here's a piece about an actual thing that happened to me-- in my usual style, of course. Leave Me Is this a dream? Oh, please let it be but a figment of my imagination. Please, let this be a movie scene. I don’t want to be the main character. Why am I here alone? To be left in an open field, to be left on my own. Please, let it be a mistake, I’ll say. I am left here, though it feels all too cliche. Should I hope for recognition? Will anyone know? I will lie here, invisible to your eyes. I’ve already done so. Please, see my eyes close, when my retinas meet the midday sun. Oh, let it be a dream.  Let me drift away to awake upon the plush overtones of home. Ah, but I couldn’t! Some sense of hope remained still! From where, I know not! It was so much I could not remain! I did return, though, with expected absence of fanfare. I’d climbed back up, alone.  Not a thing had changed. I’d thought nothing of it. Ah, to be so naive, it was but a dream.

Today I'm dropping another piece-- one that I wrote today! This is a 2nd-person visualization-style piece, something I've never really tried but that seems to mesh well with my writing style, even outside of poetry. I hope you enjoy it! Color Your eyes will seek, oh how dearly they miss the light. Absent-minded though it may be, you can only imagine. Trees, how they’d towered so far out of reach, as if always two steps ahead, and the sweet smell of pine sap that you dared not to touch. Will they remain as the gentle cacophony of autumnal stress fades to grayscale? To feel the crunch of what once sat perched above you, lively and green as ever, perished and piecemeal underneath your dirt-stained sneakers-- Is it fair for you to still feel in this sorry state, as it serves to you as naught more than an insult among such a lack of feeling? But such a feeling, in a way, could be much more.  Such a lack of sight could let you look past what once blemished this cohesive landscape.  ...

Today's post is like nothing else I've written-- a script! This is called "What You Say To Me", and I wrote it for my Creative Writing class. It's got some odd formatting because of that, but after all, it is meant to be read out loud. Either way, I hope you enjoy it. If nothing else, this was immensely useful dialogue practice. (Completed 11/9/2021.) WHAT YOU SAY TO ME / BOUNCYPEAR, 2021 / BOUNCYPEAR.TK SET EXT. DIAMOND COMMON, CENTER RHOMBUS A small picnic spread is laid atop freshly cut grass. KASS and MEI sit atop it, eating a moderate lunch.                 KASS     ...And that's how it ended. MEI leans up against KASS, and KASS leans her head upon MEI's.                 MEI     I'm sorry, Kass. I'm so sorry.                 KASS ...