02/01 Direct Link
A friend said that they would like to see the world through my eyes.

I quite like the way the world looks through my eyes.

It's very pretty. Lots of colours swirling and leaping and crashing together like cymbals.

The cold is enticing, taunting you towards it. Softly, fora while. Then it kisses you with such as force that you are left frozen in one spot.

People are wonderful. Full of ideas and thoughts and feelings that too complex and astounding to fully describe.

The world through my eyes is a nice place. You can join me there anytime.
02/02 Direct Link
It was one of those days. Where the wind was blowsy and rude, pushing itself right in your face.

Sam hated the wind. He found it too obnoxious. Sam hated many things. He especially hated life.

Life, he thought, had gotten away with far too much for far too long. Someone needed to bring life to account; to challenge it for the daily horrors that it set upon unsuspecting people.

To this end, he had decided to sue life.

The wind kept assulting him as he made his way to court. The wind, Sam decided, was in league with life.
02/03 Direct Link
People seem to try and demean love all the time. They say that it is simply chemicals in the brain, drugs firing through your mind that give you a high. They that as if it is a bad thing.

I think that's amazing. That you can grow so close to someone that they can physically change your brain. That someone can give you a high just by walking into your line of vision. How is that not worthy of wonder and amazement?


Actually, looking back, it seems I may have done just that.

Hypocracy! Because holding firm opinions is tricky!
02/04 Direct Link
There was a quiteness. A stillness that floated up through the window.

I kept curled in my ball of warmth, unwilling to subject myself to the teeth of the cold.

Eventually, the little child in me could be denied no longer and I abandoned the saftey of my bed and headed towards the window.



White everywhere. It had colonised brick and slate and leaves, pillowing them all into submission.

I wondered why we find the whiteness so beautiful. Is it the purity? The cleanliness? I don't know, and I don't care. It is beautiful, and I adore it.
02/05 Direct Link

Sam had not bothered to hire a lawyer. Sam did not like lawyers. He felt that they were too clever. He would be prosecuting life himself.

It was warmer in the courtroom. He could detect the feeling coming back to his fingers. They hurt, in a tingling, pin-pricking kind of way.

Shoving them back in his pockets, he tried to focus on the notes that he had written for prosecuting life.

At that moment, life was in the docks. Of course, life wasn't actually there, not having a physical body. Instead, there was a sock on a broom.

02/06 Direct Link

I danced with Love during the night. I held her by the waste, took her hand in mine and waltzed with her in a field whist the stars looked on in approval.

I gave her my smile, my life. Love took them, sucking them up greedily with a hideous force. Love drank me dry, and I just stood there, dissolving myself into her.

We kissed, and she dragged away my soul, trapped it in a cage. Still I did nothing, but drowned in the honeyed joy.

In the morning, Love had gone. She had a new partner to dance with.

02/07 Direct Link
He was standing on the edge of the building.

She looked at him. At his eyes. The delighted spark had been replaced with a mania. His hair was feral and his smile savage.

'You know,' he said, 'I've always felt on the edge. Tredding a fine line. Slipping between sanity and madness. Happiness and depression. Fiction and reality. I like edges. Edges really suit me.'

She said nothing. The words had abandoned her.

'That Lady Gaga song. 'On the edge of glory'. Is that the one?'

He grinned.

'You know. I've always hated Lady Gaga.'

And with that, he jumped.
02/08 Direct Link
Whenever I look at you, I feel like I missed an opportunity.

Contrary to what some of my friends think, I'm not cynical about love. I am only cynical about teenage love. Teenage love deserves to be cynical-ised. It is stuffed full of horrific cliches and abounding expectations. You burst head-long into each other, constantly expounding tokens of love, doing things not because you want to, but because that's what you feel you have to do.

Once you get past that stage, I think you could develop true love.
I wish I could have tried that with you.
02/09 Direct Link
Beauty swanned along, in my field of vision.

I saw her drape herself on the arm of another man. A poet, who was able to hold her down with a few brief verses.

Next, Beauty was dancing with another. She glided over to him, as easy as the breeze. That musician could capture her, mould her motion into the notes.

I could see Beauty everywhere. She slept around with all the others, without hesitation. Offering herself to all.

When it came to me, Beauty was no-where. My words and my notes were inadequate. Beauty, that wonderful whore, escaped my grasp.
02/10 Direct Link
Sam started putting his questions to life.

'Why do you allow bad things to happen?'

No answer.

'Why do you reward the evil, the horrible, the morally corrupt?'

No answer.

'Why do you always hurt people, with no thought for their situation or well-being?'

Again, no answer.

Of course, the thing representing life was a sock on a broom. It couldn't answer. But neither could life. Life continued to screw everyone over. Life continued to screw Sam over, and continued to get away with it. Life was one of the greatest criminals, yet had never been brought to justice.
02/11 Direct Link

Put this on my gravestone. 'I did these things for love'.

Everything. Everything I ever did. For love.

The cities I burned. For love. The words I spilled out of my guts, vomiting them on the page, splattering like blood.

For love.

This body that I ripped apart. For love. I tore these muscles and ravished this brain for love..

The hurricanes I caused and the floods I rode and the sun I burned into a horrific nothingness.

All for love. Everything for love.

I cut my hair and broke thrones and tortured the harp for love.

All for love.

02/12 Direct Link
The flood came down, and so did the memories.

Box by box, climbing down the ladder, the stairs and into this room.

Letters from old sweethearts, some to be seen, others to be savoured for another time.

Toys from an eternity ago, in perfect condition. Beautiful toys in bright, friendly colours.

Simple, calming music, trapped in a plastic phone. A book that weighs heavy with half-lighted memories.

This is the history of a section of life. A small nothing in the world. Unimportant to others. But to us, at this time, one of the most important things of all.
02/13 Direct Link
I watched something that made me cry.

It was a documentary about the poor in America. One of the clips showed the Republican presidential candidates during a debate. They were asked whether the state should pay for someone who was in a coma. Ron Paul said no. He explained that life was about risks. When asked whether they should just let them die, people in the audience cried out 'Yeah!'

How the hell can they have no sympathy for humanity?

I want to change it, but what can I do? I'm just a teenage boy with a screwed-up head.
02/14 Direct Link
I've decided that I'm not going to be cynical about today.

When I was walking home, I heard a man explain to his child that today is 'a day for boyfriends and girlfriends'.

It then struck me. This day is not for me. It is not about me. I have nothing to do with it. Therefore, I have no right to mock.

So I won't. Because in reality, love really is a lovely thing. It deserves to be celebrated. To have its own special day. There's too much angst in the world.

Happy Valentines day, my love. Wherever you are.
02/15 Direct Link
Lust came and sank her teeth into my shoulder, lapped at the blood.

Ignoring my groans and shouts, Lust tore away at my chest, nails ripping apart my skin. Her hands cracked at my bones and finally, finally, she lowered her head. Further and lower, until, at last, she bit into my heart, chewing it to pieces.

All I could do was lie there and scream in an agony of ectasy.

She looked up and smiled at my pain, laughed as the blood streamed from my body.

Then she left. Left me as a bleeding, humanless pile of unwanted flesh.
02/16 Direct Link
His trouble wasn't that he couldn't fall in love. It was that he fell in love at every opportunity.

Glancing at the girl on the train, he fell in love with her. He could imagine running with her through fields, laughing with the pleasure of being alive.

She got off at the next stop.

Later, whilst walking through the crowds, he fell in love with another. She was beautiful in an unconventional way. He could imagine kissing that unconventional face.

Later he would fall in love with someone sitting next to him. Imagine drawing her face, writing her love poems.
02/17 Direct Link
Then Truth came.

She knitted by body back together. Wiped the sweat from my arms and kissed my brow.

She ran her fingers though my hair and whispered words of comfort, words that gave my limbs strength.

Truth worked on my mind, cleaned out the dark corners and drove away the monsters.

Raising me up, her breath sweetly filled my world. She put the light back in my eyes and air in my lungs and gave me back my old smile. I had missed my smile.

When I was back and whole, Truth took me away. Somewhere new. Somewhere beautiful.
02/18 Direct Link
I could really do with a hug.

Just...some form of human contact. A wrap and a squeeze, knowing that someone actually cares.

Yes, a hug would be nice.

Ah, teenage angst. The feelings of isolation and lonliness and pain and the constant nagging notion that you are unloved, and will always be unloved.

I'm not as bad as I used to be...

On another note, I've been practising my saxophone and pretending that I'm on a pavement somewhere. It's dark and cold and I'm wearing a black beret and nobody is listening to me.

...I would like a hug.
02/19 Direct Link
Wasting time is not, I believe, a waste of time.

For a while, I used to think that time was slipping through my fingers. That I had to rush, to run a good race before I collapse into dust.

This means that time is a bully, forcing you to do things, threatening you if you fail to ensure that every waking moment is filled with activity.

I don't like being bullied. So today, I'm going to stare at a wall and let my thoughts roam free and ignore that clock that is staring at me.

Your tick-tocking lacks oppression.
02/20 Direct Link

I stayed with Truth for a while. However, I soon realised that she came in many forms.

There were bright TrueTruths and shimmering Half Truths and oil drenched Not Quite The Whole Truths.

There were too many of them. I didn't know which one I was supposed to follow, which I was supposed to believe.

So I left. Truth had helped for a while, but she could not sustain me forever. There has to be more to life than just Truth, no matter how much I may love and adore her.

Truth understood, when I told her. No hard feelings.

02/21 Direct Link
'So, how would you describe your perfect girl?'

It was that time during a party where everything had started to lull. The couples had migrated to corners, absorbed only in each other. The others were falling across furniture or curling themselves up on the floor. Conversation had been reduced to innane hypothetical reasoning, plans for the coming week or old memories.

He scratched the back of his head as he thought.

'Well, I think she would be like this.'

As he spoke, he pulled out some headphones and offered them to the questioner.

A gentle piano drifted in his ears.
02/22 Direct Link
It was 'Clair de lune'.

He smiled.

'Doesn't it just...I don't know. Make you want to close your eyes and twirl around slowly? Take your shoes off and wriggle your toes into the ground and smile knowing, for the briefest of moments, that you are connected to everything. It makes me think standing in a field. It's nearly dark, with the sun dripping out of the sky and the stars peeking out. There's a fire, but it's dulled to a whispering heat.'

They sat, just listening.

'I love this song.'

'It's a good song. A perfect song.'

'It is.'
02/23 Direct Link
I've been looking back at some of my old batches.

It scared me.

Some of them are so...hate filled.Stuffed with anger and arrogance and cynicism. They're like weeping, stinking sores.

So full of bile. A loathing of oneself, and of the world one inhabited.

It's terrifying to imagine that I actually had those thoughts. That I actually wrote them down without thinking that something was terribly wrong.

It was a lovely day, today. The sun came out for the first time in quite a while. The lightness made me smile and want to skip and laugh uncontrollably.
02/24 Direct Link
I went back to my muse. The woman who would always accept me, whatever state I was in.

Music saw me coming and rushed to greet me. Her arms were all-embracing, as was her smile. Her harmony trickled over my skin and her melody calmed my chattering mind.

I spent an eternity lying beside her, drifting into her. She offered me comfort and joy and a peace that had long escaped my grasp.

This is where I wanted to be. This is the person I wanted to be with. Music, sweet music, took my love and held it dear.
02/25 Direct Link
I believe I may be getting better at talking to people.

Today, I was able to have a short conversation with a rather pretty girl without sweating so much that I was in danger of passing out from dehydration.

Also, it didn't desend into a horrific, awkward silence where we were both looking at anything but each other.

She was rather nice. We discussed universities.

The chances are, I will never see her again. Which is a shame, really. I wish I could keep in contact with everyone I had ever met. They are all so interesting. So very interesting.
02/26 Direct Link
'I talked to a guy yesterday.'

'That's nice.'

'Not really. He was rather weird.'

'In what way?'

'Well, he was really sweaty. Like, all the time. I mean, at one point, I was afraid he was going to pass out from dehydration.'

'That's a bit awkward.'

'It really was. And, like, his conversational skills were terrible. There were so many peroids of silence. I swear, he must have been autistic or something.'

'What did you talk about?'

'I'm not even sure. I think we talked about universities for a while. That was the only normal part of the whole conversation.'
02/27 Direct Link

Sometimes all you have is this large rush a big stream of conciousness where thoughts and thoughts and thoughts all run around and fight each other and shout so loud that it hurts your ears and you just want to scream shut up just shut up why do you have to be here why do you have to hurt me why can't you just go away but they never go away and they never stop and it just hurts and you want to fall away into nothingness and become a large shadow and just float away forever ane ever and...

02/28 Direct Link

And then

the other

thing happens where
you have nothing




left in your head

and what can you

do but

sit prefectly still and


to the all encompasing silence

where you are suddenly


aware of your own
mortality and insignificance

where you mind

is less then it could, can, would, will ever be
and the thoughts

those beautiful

to nest in another's mind

and you are crushed by the lack of noise

deafened by the lack of activity

and you have to


yourself to make sure you are still


because when you get right down to it

to the

nuts and blots of the universe

being alive



thinking beings

is all

that we really



02/29 Direct Link

My eyes looked out at the world and painted it a softer colour.

They filtered out the harsh contents and the criticisms and the pain and horror and lonliness and made everything nice. Nice and pink and cotton wool.

This world was better. Easier to live in, easier to live with. It was a world full of fantasy and stories and dragons. Lots of dragons.

My eyes made everyone beautiful. Wonderful. Amazing and interesting. Made their faces pieces of art that I could stare at forever.

These eyes create a brave new world. You can see through them any time.