Don't Play With Fire, Unless You Can Handle Getting Burned

Writing Goodness.........

This is it, plain and simple.
I hate that you become sad. I want you to smile, all the time.
I hate that you can be harbouring some secret pain that you think I am too weak and too stupid to help you overcome.
I want you to be happy. I always have, and I always will.
I fear the thoughts that I have about you, the ones where I think of the future and how things are changing and how, one day, I know that you’re going to leave me.
I have dreamed of you, more than once. Dreams of your smile and your laughter and your happiness. That is how you should be.
Not stressed. Not sad. Not bored.
It isn’t fair. It isn’t right.
You give so much of yourself every single day, and in return the Gods can’t help you to remain happy. They let you become a depressed, lonely, empty shell of the man I love. And it kills me, a little more, each time.
It wrenches my heart to know that you are unhappy.
It hurts me when you aren’t feeling as upbeat as you should.
You don’t speak to me much. You start a conversation with me and then barely even contribute. You taunt me, this way, and it hurts. It hurts me, because I’m not strong. Not like you are.
I want to learn how you became the strong, amazing, wonderful person that you are.
Stop harbouring your secrets, please.
Teach me.
Teach me how to be strong and how to be selfless and how to be happy.
Don’t say you can’t.
I know you can.
I know you.
And I have faith in you.
I believe in you.
You can get through anything.
You can be happy again.
And you will.
You will, if not for yourself, than please, be happy for me?
Smile, for me?

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 29, 2004 10:05 | link | comments (2)
writings

Time Flies When You're Incapacitated by Bee's

Well, I had some time to work on this, (I had someone sneak a tablet pc into my hospital room so I could write) btw Hornet's suck.............. I hate getting stung, and I especially hate that whol asthma attack feeling of anapyhlaxis, anyways here's something I've been working on, it hits pretty close to home for me. Names have been changed and I would say that while the background is fictional, the character's are not. Who can guess which character I am???

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I certainly hadn’t expected it to be this way. She was sitting on the windowsill, waves of hair tossed over one shoulder and a cigarette between those slender fingers, manicured to perfection. She avoided my eyes when her gaze swept across the room littered with empty beer cans and solitary pizza crumbs. Perhaps it was because I was staring directly into hers, studying the reflection of melting candles on the shelf, a pitiful attempt to fill the void where love used to be. And that’s what this was all about, filling her to the brim again, spilling her contents onto the floor – between banks of dirty laundry – and rearranging her correctly. She once told me she didn’t remember a moment when glory shone in her sky, or when a hero rested his eyes upon her worn out face. So maybe I was trying to make her glorious and show her that I was there to save her. If I had succeeded she certainly didn’t tell me. She flicked cigarette lint – that’s what she called it, those chaotic ashes – off her lap and breathed in heavy wisps of smoke. She pretended I wasn’t there anymore.

"I’m only trying to help, you know."

"Mm, and what are you, my psychiatrist? Don’t start with me." I captured a glimpse of those feisty blue eyes as she swung her hair across her back and pressed her head against the window frame.

"Just someone who cares...but never mind."

She pressed the butt of the cigarette against the windowpane as the rain tapped against the other side. I could see her reflection as she leaned her forehead against the glass and fogged up the window with her breath. She seemed ghostly as lightning flickered through the sky. It was an endless array of broken flashes of her eyes wandering the streets below the three-story apartment, dancing against the glass. There was nothing more for her to do than haunt my presence and break the dreams and promises I was trying to give her. She told me she didn’t deserve it. I said I didn’t deserve her.

I slid off the bed, dragging a blanket with me, still warm from the heat escalating through my body. When I joined her at the window she didn’t move, but her pupils flickered in my direction. It was the first acknowledgement of my presence since she’d last spoken, but even then it always seemed that she was talking to someone else, fighting off the bad man in her head. I didn’t want to be that bad man, that glorified villain inside of her that gave reasoning to hate or be hated. She kept trying to mold me into him though, and she drove me to a point in which my insides would fall to pieces.

"You must be cold." My fingers brushed against her shoulder and felt the goose bumps shriveling up her skin. I tossed the blanket over her shoulders, letting my hands just drift there for a moment. I needed to make sure she hadn’t in fact turned into the ghost she’d convinced herself of being. She had always been persuasive.

"I’m fine – don’t, I’m fine." she’d whispered in the process, the same thing she had said many times in the past. But she didn’t pull away.

"Let me in, Liz…just let me in for a minute."

"In what, where? There’s nothing to get into..." She said.

"Yeah, okay. Then what am I doing wrong? Talk to me for a change. Tell me why you don’t want me to touch you, why you don’t want me to help." She was silent. "Give me a sign that you’re still alive…that we’re still alive."

"Jason…"

"Do you want me to go? Do you need me to leave? Just say the word and I will. If I’m not allowed to make you happy, then am I the one making you sad? Please, Liz…" I didn’t know what to say anymore, what line to pull that would reel her into me. And she remained just as silent.

But she hadn’t always been this way. There was a point in time when we’d been the figurehead of couples, the masterpiece that’s created when two people fall in love. There was a time when others envied us so much that I was envious too. We’d been able to sustain ourselves and balance the world between our palms; hand in hand, we could do anything. Now conversation had dried up, saturated into the lives of those who’d once envied us. Dinners were cold and wrapped in plastic, lethargic with the same processed scents because she wouldn’t let me take her places anymore. And making love was fleshy and distant. She’d turn her back to me afterwards, wrapping the blanket around her and separating herself from the rest of the bed.

She didn’t want to curl under my arm anymore and listen to my heartbeat. And this silence between us wasn’t the same as it used to be, because before there could be no words between the two of us. The warmth that crisscrossed from me to her was enough to describe the thoughts and emotions far too invigorating to find words for. It used to feel as though the world had been built around us, constructed for me in my little cocoon with Liz at my side. And I’d heard her say it once before, "I wanted it this way." I’d heard the words and known she’d felt something for me before this vastness had formed across the width of the bed.

I leaned against the wall near the window, towering over her and watching the occasional car pass by beneath sheets of rain. I was trying to focus on whatever it was that she marveled over, curled up on the window pane. My eyes traveled from hers to the world separated by a piece of glass, hovering over the dark moments between the abrupt flashes in the sky. That was when I looked back at Liz, to find her head tilted upward and her eyes upon me.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" she said softly. She raised a brow at me.

"The rain? Yeah. It’s calming…" I said.

"Not the rain. I meant this room. I’ve been watching it through the window’s reflection…" her voice was hollow, but the crispness of her gaze seemed to catch me off guard. I turned my head though, to see the room in hopes of seeing it from her perspective on the window sill. All I saw were crumpled beer cans and burning wicks sitting in masses of red wax, dirty clothes on the floor and a digital clock flashing on and off like the power.

"It’s messy…but I guess it could be beautiful in some artistic vision." I replied.

"That’s not what I mean. This is ours…it’s our mess." She said. "But it’s not a bad mess…it’s one of those cluttered types that feels comfortable…it feels like home."

"That’s good then, right?" I said.

"I guess…if it’s what you want. If you want to be drowning in all of it." She turned her head away from me again, back to her window observations. Her eyes were longing, though for what I can’t say I knew.

"If you’re saying I should clean it, I will. I know I’ve been lazy about it, but I thought we were beyond that. Beyond the superficial stuff."

"You’re not understanding me." She said, lifting herself from the window’s ledge and moving to the dresser. With a blanket wrapped around and consoling her, I watched her wipe dust from the wooden surface. She dipped a slender finger into red molten wax, lifting it and watching it dry. "You never seem to get it anymore."

"Well, you’re not helping me much." I said, fixated on the drying lump of wax on her fingertip. She seemed just as enveloped, silent and carving a face into her finger with the curve of her nail. For a moment I wondered if it was smiling.

"Jason, what am I to you?" she said finally, as her etched masterpiece crumbled between her thumb and index finger. The wax fell to the carpet, disappearing within old stains and cigarette burns, those little things we had always talked about covering up but never did. Like a pimple or a scar, we were never ashamed. We marveled over the tiny imperfections and crevasses within such idealistic things, like love and beauty. We cherished every stretch mark, every wrinkle where time had mingled for too long.

"You’re everything, Liz. You know that." I said simply, because it seemed as simple as that.

"Everything is a lot. Am I the reason you breathe? The reason you eat and drink to stay alive? Do I make things worthwhile?"

"Liz, what are you trying to say - ?"

"Do you need me in order to live? Would you die without me?" she said, her voice becoming louder but shakier with every word, every question.

"Liz…"

"No, Jason. This isn’t right, because that’s the way I feel. When you’re with me I feel complete, but when you’re gone I’m empty. I become no one without you, so what do I have? When I say you’re everything to me, I mean it. I mean that I’m afraid to live without you and that’s not right. That’s not healthy, and I live every waking moment wondering one day if you’re not going to come home. Or one day you’re just going to give up on me, or one day you’re going to have had enough. And it’s sick, Jason. It’s sick that I need you that much." She was pacing across the room, the blanket flowing behind her like a cape as I watched. My throat had gone dry, and I swallowed the build-up of stale air. She sat down at the end of the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest as the blanket fell into a heap on the floor, another pile beneath us. It seemed that the layers that once held us together were peeling off like second skins, revealing the muscles and tissues, the living truths within.

"Jesus, Liz…you know I’m always gonna be here for you. I’m not gonna leave you, or give up on you."

"You don’t know that, and I do. I’m a mess. And sometimes it’s comfortable but sometimes it disgusting. And I’m trying to tell you that it’s time to clean up." She looked up at me, her fiery eyes dim and blurred. I had to blink a couple of times too, and swallow a couple more, before I could see or say anything.

"You mean…" I said, as I knew exactly what she meant.

"I need some time. And so do you, okay? I’m not a person right now, just an attachment, an installment in your life. And while it was great, I’m not a girlfriend – not a person who can hold her own."

"So, you’re gone. Just like that?"

"I’m gone the way I’m meant to go. I want to be able to live without you." She said, standing up and walking towards me. I reached for her, and she seemed so light, so airy like she wasn’t even there anymore. She was gone already, as though all of these words, the tasteless TV dinners and distant spaces between us were all that had kept her here. I held her so tight, so long, and she didn’t move except to wipe her eyes on my shoulder.

"Don’t forget about me, okay?" I said to her, muffled within waves of hair. She pulled back for a moment and smiled weakly, the first I’d seen for days. Outside the rain was coming down in sheets, and the occasional flash of lightning would light up all that we used to call our own. We stood in the middle of the room, above the disaster on the floor and beneath the dead light bulb looming over our heads. Just for a moment, I stared at the contents of the room through the window’s reflection, and told her it was beautiful.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 28, 2004 07:03 | link | comments (3)
writings

justin + bee's = anaphylaxis (meaning a trip to the ER) ........................ Hopefully I'll make it home soon. Wish me well, I got stung somewhere between 37-48 times. Owwwww. And My chest feels like I'm having an Asthma attack. I'll be at the hospital tonitght.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 27, 2004 20:05 | link | comments (3)

Thoughts

Each day as I lift the fruits of adversity from my heart I hope you are dying slowly
Eyes wide open into the lively darkness where I yell and shout about all the ways you wronged me
Breaking in to plunder the castle of my dreams is not my idea of love.
You slam the door and you rush out
Repolishing your foolish doubt to a brilliant shine. Aren't you a sage!
so lately.. my beliefs have been wrung as they fall under the pain of restructure
The trio of voices in the silence is a tribute to all the things that like to linger.
I struggle with demons that follow and whisper things into my ears
So I'll sing a song with twelve happy verses to drown them out now..to dissolve these memories of you
You, with all your letters and your cards when all I wanted you to buy was the truth
Or an apology with actions that speak loudest tied on it like bows.
The abscence of a telephone ring says you have no remorse.
Perhaps you are sorry that the world might collapse on you eventually but
Not sorry that you broke me into a million pieces.
A million pieces of what was once the brilliance of my untouched eyes.
You left them blind and useless, scarred and full of lies.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 26, 2004 17:31 | link | comments (2)
poetry

Application...

Would you like to be the founder of the glow that I exude?
We could be like those people who were born to be together.
Couldn't we?

Wouldn't you love to share all the thrill of letters and
visits that we enjoy more because they are few?
Perhaps we could try?

Wouldn't it be sweet to know that somewhere else I am thinking of you?
And wouldn't our seperate but not totally divided lives give us just enough space?
I know I wish for all these things I see in your eyes.

The way you walk is intoxicating
and
how your lips form the words you will say intrigues me
and

I'd love to daydream about you in my English classes
and
tell everyone at lunch about our weekend plans
and

The knowledge that all the potential of this is right on the cusp is fascinating
and
You wake up things in me that I thought could never be alive again
and

Would you like to run along this way with me for a while?
Maybe just one sweet summer to say all the things that young love is for.
eating ice cream and volleyball on the beach...late sunsets and barbeque-ing

We could be an "us", does that excite you?
And everyone could say things like, "you are simply divine together"
Can you see it now?

Doesn't it intice you to think of the way that this could maybe be?
I'll go in with both eyes open this time but I have a feeling that
you will too.

Wouldn't it be marvelous to know that everything is okay on saturday
and that we are never very far
but never too close to wear each other out?

Would you enjoy being the girl who I simply cannot get out of my mind?
I can assure you that you are quite qualified,
If you'd consider to apply.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 26, 2004 08:36 | link | comments (1)
poetry

New Stuff Coming, I Promise

So let's see, once I finish wasting my time playing video games this weekend, I will post something writing-wise.  Seeing as how I've written over 100 pages of stuff, incuding a 67 page long story, I should proably post some of it here so that yoou all can determine wheter or not it's any good.  Other than that, as I've said work, and then hanging out with friends mostly.  I hope to be able to post a little bit more this weekend, seeing as how everyone is going out of town, and I will have more time to myself.  Anyways, until tomorrow when I plan to post a few things, I bid you adeiu. 

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 25, 2004 20:32 | link | comments
journals

Workness

Well, I'm at work again. It's amaziong how much more time I have to psot now that school is over, now I'm bordering on that whole having too much freetime again. So I've got a few post that I am thinking about putting up, I'm not exactly sure which ones I want to post though.... I'm enjoying the spiffines that is ym new layout. It's all crazy and stuff.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 24, 2004 07:23 | link | comments (3)
journals

I think I'm going to start bombarding everyone with a set of new posts, although noone seems to be commenting too much recently, it's making me cry.........
Although I have been getting some new readers, I'm not really sure from where, not the I'm unhappy about it in the slightest.  If I feel like one person a day comes away with something new or profound or even if it was somethign as simple as I made someone enjoy the 5 minutes they spent reading my post, then I feel like I have accomplished my goals.  My main goal of starting this was to write many pieces of social commentary, whether it be sociopolitical, philosophical, emotianal, or evocativeness, I truly enjoy what I'm wirintg and doing in terms of art right now.  I hope that the rest of you are enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it. 

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 23, 2004 08:08 | link | comments (2)
journals

I felt like fixing up something I'd written a while ago. So now I'm going to have it posted here for you peeps to read. Anyways, I'm not really sure as to whether or not I am said charcted in the following story. I just wrote this when I had a need to get out a lot of emotions. Hopefully someone likes this, otherwise I'll be sad. ahaha j/k later y'all

Outside, the night sky was dark and stormy. Lightening flickering every other minute, with the crashing of the thunder, loud enough to rumble the windows of the houses below, soon following after the flash. The clouds burst like a water filled sponge, letting go their contents on the town. The rain beating the houses with deafening force, like they wanted to get break the house down.

Inside, a young man is writhing in pain on the floor of his bedroom. He wraps his arms around his chest and stomach, breathing shallow, saliva dripping out of his mouth. He twitches from the pain of his hate trying to escape. It rips and tears at his insides like a rabid animal trying to get free from its confines. With every flash of lightening the boy’s body jerks, and every crash of thunder his body contorts. A quick picture of a memory in his head causes more pain. The picture came and went in a blink of an eye, but he knew what it was and his hate broke free. He continued to writhe until late in the night when his body gave and he passed out.

The next morning, the storm was over, but the clouds remained. The young man got up to take a shower. He stood under the water, letting it hit the top of his head and trickle down his face. He began to think about last night, but waves it off before it happens again. With a sigh, he got out and got ready for work. On the way out to his car, he threw on his mask and climbed into his car.

Sitting at a stoplight, the young man begins to grimace and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. He lets out a growl as the same feelings of last night begin to wash over him like a wave; he flexes his chest trying to take control of the feeling. The sound of a car horn from behind snaps him out of his diluted state of mind to the realization of a green light in front of him. He takes a left and then a right to pull into the parking lot of the mall.

The young man walks into the bookstore in which he works at in the mall. He says his hellos to his fellow employees and heads to the door at the back of the store. He enters the room to see a couple of boxes full of new releases of books and magazines. He picks up the box full of magazines and heads to the magazines rack to switch out the old magazines for the new, when out of the corner of his eye he sees her, the one woman he ever loved.

He once loved her with such passion. They were together for such a short time, yet it felt like many years; he loved her with every fiber of his being. He thought he was on top of the world; he felt like he had everything he ever wanted, until that one-day… Once he swore he would die for her, but he never meant like this. Now his love has turned into a deep seeded hate that burns like a wild fire within him.

In a blink of an eye, he became dead inside. He felt the pain whelm up in him, he tried to fight it off, but it took control. He felt his whole body begin to shake his face became flush. He cringed trying to regain control, but all he could do was run out of the store to make his way to the parking lot. He burst out the door with such force that he fell and tumbled to the edge of the sidewalk. He sat up and hung his head down, clasping his hands behind his head, resting them on his next.

He sat there on the edge of the sidewalk, feeling the cool breeze blow against his face. He started to calm down, and began to think. Think about her, how much pain she has caused him and how much he would love to give that pain right back to her. He thought about what he would do to her, how he would make her feel what he felt the past countless nights he had to endure. He stood up with a smug smile; he walked to his car and drove home.

The young man entered his house and walked to his room. He opened a drawer and pulled out his handgun, the pain began to rise inside. He loaded the gun and smiled at the thought of what he was about to do, then he finally realized it, he was happy, for the first time in a long time he was actually happy.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 22, 2004 07:21 | link | comments (2)
writings

Well, let's see, I went to work today. Now I'm home, installing Windows 2005. Yes, I said that right, I have special access to Windows Code Name Longhorn. The new operating system from microsoft. Other than that, I've been listening to some Mogwai (Great Band) and American Analog Set (Also a great band) Work was pretty ough today, seeing as how my friends kept me up until 2 in the morning and I hadf to be at work at 7am. ewwwwwwwwwwwww....... Anyways, I've got 14 pages worth of writing to post, so as soon as I get it somehwat edited for readability it will be up and hopefully you's guys will enjoy it. I enjoyed writing it and I enjoy reading it too. Oh well, I'll write a little more later but as for now, it's off to check some code compatibily issues.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 21, 2004 14:27 | link | comments (1)
journals

so, yeah.... Haven't posted in a little while. RIght now I have a killer headache. I dunno why.... It hurts a lot though, other than that I've just kinda been hanging around doing stuff, nothin of note really, just trying to catch up with friends. I dunno what I'll end up doing otnight, but hopefully it will be more interesting than last night, which was really boring because I went to bed around 11 cuz noone called me and I was really tired,,,,......................

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 19, 2004 17:21 | link | comments
journals

Well, I'm really realy tired....... I haven't been getting anywhere near enough sleep this week, but now that my summer class is over (kind of funny how my summer sessions class ends before summer techincally begins) I should have plenty of time to rest, that is if I actually try inste4ad of being an insomniac. We'll see what happens witht that... I've been working on a little short story I'm gona sit on it for the night, and see if I feel like changing anything otherwise I'll probly go ahead and put it up tomorrow. Aight, everyone I'll post more tomorrow, but ta for now

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 17, 2004 17:15 | link | comments
journals

bah! I'm just sitting here at work. Oh boy, lots of really lame engineering humor. Anyways, I've been really tired this week, and have had what I like to call "the Headache from Hell" Very lame, I've had a head-ache for 9 days straight, and am now taking somewhat unhealthy doses of pain-killers, 5 excedrin every 3-4 hours is probably not healthy........ Anywho, other than that I'm working on implementing an Oracle database into some of the exisiting software in the new office I've working in part-time. Apparently I am needed in two different offices at the same time, everyone needs a software engineer apparently. Anyways, I will post more later, my boss just got in and I have to go do fun things like "Determine Project Requirements"

Laters

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 16, 2004 05:56 | link | comments (2)
journals

bah!

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 14, 2004 18:38 | link | comments (4)
journals

rant space: The List Of Things That Are Currently Pissing Me Off

1) Friends whom when I try to talk to them act completely uninterested, you know I don't have to put up with that
2) People who I feel like I'm pulling teeth when I"m trying to have a conversation with them
3) People who yell at me for no reason
4) Friends who continue to just be on broadcast about what's going on in their lives, no offense, but get over yourself
5) Whoever got the 20,000th hit and didn't comment, that's lame

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 13, 2004 16:50 | link | comments (5)
journals

Well, my first post as a member of the 20,000 hits club. Awesome! Anyways, I've basically just been sitting around being lazy this weekend, played some HALO with some friends of mine. Other than that, I'm still actively searching for a new girlfriend, who knows how long that will take...... Also, as you can see I've had a lot of time to write lately, my summer class is ending this tuesday, and then I will probably take a much needed sabbatical. Just a note to peoples on AIM, seriously guys, come on, hit me up with a message or something, honestly/......... My coonvo's are all like "Hey, what's up?" , to which people reply "NM, gotta go. " and then they leave, how 'bout you all try having a real conversation where I don't feel like I'm trying to pull your teeth out to get any form of decent conversation. Seriously, but enough I rant. Check out this comic, it is absolutely awesome, http://www.questionablecontent.net, other than that, I'm out. Hope everyone is doing well, I myself, am going to the mall. I need to get me some new clothes. Laters

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 13, 2004 14:39 | link | comments (1)
journals

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 10, 2004 10:51 | link | comments (2)
writings

Let’s communicate, Wordless

Hear me, without me saying a word.
Understand me, without me having to explain every last detail.
Feel me, without having to go through what I went through.

Now, let’s talk with no use of sound. Let silence speak the language of our hearts. Only the heart dares to speak the truth without seeking advantage. The emotions are faster than imagination, like a reaction of pain from a sudden cut. They don’t give the corrupt mind sufficient time to analyze and interpret the true feelings.
The heart has always been imperial. It has never in history been overtaken by any human mind. That is why people fall in love, they don’t get to choose the answers for when, who, where, how and most importantly why. We don’t have a choice because it happens; it’s not made to happen. With the help of our minds, we seem to be able to admire someone we hate but never have we been able to fool the heart in hating someone we admire.
Imagine the human race with the absence of language; it would be in total chaos. We like to talk but don't like to have highly abstract communications in every day life. We are used to and feel the necessity of quick and decisive form of communication. That’s the reason why William turns to Bill, and Bill to B in similar way Theresa turns to Tess and Tess to T.
We have been showing signs of forgetting where we came from, our origins. From the very beginning of life on earth we had no forms of oral communication. Yes, it had its negative side by causing misunderstanding and misconception. As time rolled on, the human race evolved through and invented language to overcome the problems the absence of language had caused. But today, we are using the language as the basis of communication rather than using it to prevent the misunderstandings. Instead of using it in some form of necessity, we have been exercising it constantly as a physical muscle.
Looking through the mind of a student studying Venn diagram, I say, dumb people are silent, but all silent people are not dumb. We should stop over exercising our ability to converse and rather, feel each other. Being so superior among all living beings, let us learn something from those ‘’inferior’’ species.
A human is said to be equipped with 5 senses: vision, smell, sound, taste and touch. But today, we have changed their purpose. We have been looking but not seeing; hearing but not listening; touching but not feeling. We are the leaves on a tall tree that doesn’t respect or acknowledge their existence because of the roots. Being on the top, we are forgetting our roots. We can see and inspect our actions simply by using a kid on test. A kid most likely knows the taste of a chocolate, but lacks the knowledge of its origin, brief history, ingredients and even the natural plant it is extracted from. But, my frustration derives from human’s lack of effort, for example, a person knows how to eat but not cook, wear clothes but not wash them, spend money but not earn it.
It feels like a long time since a person saw his senses individually as a power or means to feel; feel the surrounding, individual’s existence and last but not least, each other.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 10, 2004 10:44 | link | comments
writings

I want to say so many things
To hear your voice and feel your
Attention upon me.
I want to be cradled in your arms
I want the comfort within them.
I want to mingle your laugh with mine
watch your beauty in movement, in silence.
in stillness.
I want to feel the straining tension between
2 bodies. the closeness of space fulfilled
I want to watch your shadow,
gaze upon you from miles away
to know that you are thinking of me, what
I might do or say.
I want an indication that my loneliness is not for naught.
that I won’t die like this alone.
I want my dreams to be corporeal,
to not flee with the dawn.
for however long I’m with you.
for however long you’ll stay.
for my wish to be together. love one other.
To be in peace for all my days

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 10, 2004 10:41 | link | comments
poetry

They like me...... The really really like me. hehehehe Thanks to everyone for the 20,000 views. I really dunno what to say. I only hope that I can keep it up. More stories forthcoming soon I promise. Actually I will post one before I get off of work today, hmmmmmmm blogging at work, there ahs to be some sort of ethical dilemna about that.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 10, 2004 09:19 | link | comments (1)
journals

19997........ Well, I'm three hits away from being at 20,000 page views. Whoever gets it better leave a comment... Or I will be sad. I'm going to post a new story over my lunch break, laters

OH, BTW... I am looking for topics to write a persuausive speech on, stupid summer classs... I would really love if anyone whoreads this, could throw a potential topic or two at me, I am apparently unable to think of a good one at the momeent for some reason

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 09, 2004 07:12 | link | comments (5)
journals

And So Begins the race to see who gets my 20,000th hit. I don't know what I will do when that happens, but whoever does it should definetly get a prize. Anyways, I'm gonna post a little prose or poetry or something up here in a lil' bit. Hope everyone is doing alright,

later

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 08, 2004 11:10 | link | comments
journals

Friendship is a quiet walk in the park with the one you trust.
Love is when you feel like you are the only two around

Friendship is when they gaze into your eyes and you know they care.
Love is when they gaze into your eyes and it warms your heart.

Friendship is being close even when you are far apart.
Love is when you can still feel their hand
on your heart when they are not near.

Friendship is hoping that they experience the very best.
Love is when you bring them the very best

Friendship occupies your mind.
Love occupies your soul.

Friendship is knowing that you will always try to be there when in need.
Love is when you will give up every thing to be at their side.

Friendship is a warm smile in the winter.
Love is a warming touch that sends a pulse through your heart.

Friendship can survive without love.
Love cannot survive without friendship

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 08, 2004 07:18 | link | comments (3)
poetry

Big Fat Disclaimer...... This is not about happy things, at all... I'm just really glad I don't feel this way anymore

He sat there, isolated in his suburban neighborhood, while he leaned against the hard and grainy brick of his home. Or, at least, it felt like home for a long time. He wasn't so sure now.

There were a lot of things he wasn't so sure about now. With her, things were reassuring, positive, confirmed. His surroundings felt stable, and she could tell; his eyes would shine and seem relaxed with affection.

Now, however, his eyes were alert with paranoia and misunderstanding of the things around him. He could not seem to grasp the concept that just because it had grown dark outside, the occupants of the surrounding homes had retreated ino their protective shell of brick, wood, insolation, and plaster wall. What was it about this sheath of no sun that frightened common people? It comforted him to know that he was outside, and that no one in particular was paying attention to him within the vicinity of his own backyard. It was one of the very few things that comforted him.

As the thought crossed his mind again, his hands began to shake severely, and he could not seem to contain them. Suddenly realizing that he wasn't breathing, he gasped for breath. His ruffled, usually untidy hair was greasy and even more unkept at the moment. Light freckles were trickled across his cheeks and nose. Those freckles, which usually stood out in his complexion, were much less noticable now in comparison with the heavy tears that were now streaming down his flushed cheeks. He longed to kick something. In frustration with himself, he gripped the sides of his head, clenching his dark hair.

He finally let out a strangled sob, which seemed to penetrate the silence around him with something more threatening. His worn Chuck Taylors were casually tossed aside in the damp, velvety grass. His patched and strategically torn vest hung on a nearby lawn chair. He began to run his fingers frantically through his hair, as it was an age-old habit, and could not bring himself to stop.

Her absence stung more than ever, and so he began to reach for his leather wallet in his back pocket. Inside lay hidden a razor blade he'd kept there for the past month. He held it a foot from his pleading eyes, examining the now familiar stains. He'd never felt like this before she'd been taken from him. He'd been happy, he'd been crazy and willing to do anything. He was on top of the world, and nothing could have prepared him for this unjustified blow. He'd hated emo and everything about it, but it seemed as though he'd become his worst nightmare. Underneath it all, at least.

I shouldn't do it... I know I shouldn't.

He angrily thrust the razor against his seemingly cool, bare arm, which was actually enflamed with frustration. In fury, he then flung the razor across the lawn, fresh with a new stain; a new story.

Sobbing maniacally, he sank into the now dewy ground and lay there. He didn't care anymore about the blood, about the other people. The only thing that had mattered anymore was gone. She was gone.

Sometimes there are things worse than death, he thought in anguish. Yet, the only thing he felt he could do well anymore was bleed.

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 05, 2004 15:05 | link | comments (2)
writings

storytime........

The rains drizzled from the skies that hung so heavy and dark over head, the puddles along the dark asphalt all dazzled with the various blue and red lights that continuously flashed and tumbled. Twilight was approaching, the lanes became coursing rivers of whites on one side and reds one the other. He had to see her again. He just had to see her, even as the world hung about him in wet shades of grays, his thoughts remained on Amber. The last time he had saw her, her chestnut brown hair a wavy veil about her shoulders and those soft hazel pools he had drowned in so many times, sad and filled with tears. Even when he handed her those bright red roses that burned dazzled against her fuzzy, storm gray sweater. When she held her hand up to accept the roses, her engagement ring was a glint of silver under the pale train station lights.

With full lips colored as darkly as ripe plums, she tried to keep a gentle but faltering smile. He told her he would be home before she even knew it, but she had always been the sentimental type. The smoke was still rising as he passed through it, he could hear the paramedics calling out orders as they rushed all around him. Bright orange sparks gushing upward as a team sawed their way into a silver colored car of the train. Cars slowing to a halt, passing through the bright white lights, he paid little to no attention, he was going to see Amber. He remembered how she looked under that sky of silver-gray with the wet world all around her like a picture frame, the bright red roses a beacon against her fuzzy storm gray sweater and her silver ring a slight glint. With hazel eyes, eyes as deep and wonderful as pools, she watched the train pull off.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he exited by walking down the off ramp, those large dark green sign with big white words telling him it was an exit, fortunately her house wasn’t much further. The world so many shades of wet grays and moving lights, twilight wasn’t much further away. He could tell by the deep purple and dull orange clouds on the horizon. It had stopped raining for a bit, but he was sure it was going to start raining again, the forecast spoke of scattered showers.

She was the only one for him, always had been, it was like they were connected. It was a cool and clear January when he first laid eyes on her. She was carrying her canvas and painting tools as she was walking into the art class. The gold rays of sun caught her hair and made it nearly fiery. He had just taken the class for credits, but he found more then enough reason not to drop the class as he was considering. Introducing himself felt natural, he thought as he came to a busy intersection and walked right across even as the small green arrow became a blaring authoritarian red, he remembered the first time she smiled in the class room alive with light and sound, the way she first let the name "Amber" pass those plum colored lips.

It was February by the time he had the courage enough to ask her for her phone number, a drizzly Valentine day he waited for her to come to class with a small card and a rose so white it was akin to snow. A white rose he so badly wanted to be tinged and dyed with a change of their relationship. Unfortunately she didn’t show up that day. The memory made him laugh a little as he took a short cut through the elementary school’s park, passing over the sand in-between the blue, yellow and red play set with a silver slide leading in a downward spiral into a pit of brown woodchips. He could hear the faint squeak as the swings lightly swung by themselves from the cold winds. He smiled, remembering though Valentines Day was a complete bust; things had gone well for him by March. Amber and he had been talking every night on the phone for days, the conversations becoming more and more intimate with the talks of future hopes, dreams and the past mistakes or regrets. She even began showing him some of her paintings, surprisingly, though he thought otherwise until then, she was a gifted artist.

Stepping out of the school yard, twilight was still inching closer and closer, yellow-orange street lamps lighting that dark back street where a dog barked endlessly about something. Looking up the street he began making his course towards Amber’s house once more. Though before she could afford a house, Amber, lived in a studio downtown, but the commissions started coming in as he promised they would. One cool night in April when she suddenly broke down over the phone, Her father, who had always been the doubting Thomas, once again took it upon himself to implore her to join the "real world" and get a "real job". It was heart breaking to listen to her cry over the phone as she tried to explain to him what her father had said to her. As best he could, he comforted her over the phone, which is until she asked if he wanted to meet for coffee. A room filled of prison guards couldn’t keep him home that night, rushing to meet her would be an understatement. Groove’s coffee house, kind of their first date, well at least to him it was, they stayed out all night talking.

A car door closed in front of him, an old lady being helped out by a younger man, maybe her son or grandson. The dog was still barking as he crossed the street, reaching the corner and passing under a fig tree that swayed in the cold winds. The weather almost nothing like the day he asked her out in May, though it was an over cast day, it was warm and Amber paused before accepting his invitation. He nearly lost his nerve until after the pause there appeared a smile upon those lush, plumb colored lips. She had a simple spirit, and refused the restaurants for her choice of taking a walk along the piers and watching the sun set. He couldn’t believe when Amber slipped her hand into his and they stopped along the edge of a dock, the sky a soft dance of gold and orange. That is where they shared their first kiss. The first time he felt those plum colored lips, and tasted they were as they appeared.

A large, green and white truck trudged by with a sloshing of it’s wet tires over the damp pavement. Twilight had fallen and the street lights offered all the light they could on that dark side street, he always hated back streets, but now that didn’t matter. A wind chime made him smile; it sounded a lot like the one Amber kept hanging in her old studio.

It was hot, a scotching night in June, the type of night where all the windows where open and fans ran none stop. Still, she painted her first commission with the determination of her heart and soul. Amber worked at a fevered pace, it amazed him to look on her as she moved like a woman obsessed, her chest nut brown hair on either sides of her face and a faint dot of aqua blue just above her cheek. By evening the weather was still sweltering, but she continued in a white, sleeveless shirt and a pair obviously too big for her, brown khakis. He had turned his eyes out to the city where the sky stood fiery orange and reds over a sea of lights slowly coming to life in portions. He heard Amber’s bare feet lightly padding on the hard wood floor before he felt her arms about his waist as she hugged him close. He turned to face her, they embraced, and their lips met. It was the first time they made love, it happened on that sweltering evening in her bedroom. For the first time he felt the press of her soft skin against his, a faint sheen built upon them from the heat and excursion. It was the first time he touched and tasted places that made her take in soft breaths or release a light moan. Over whispers of "I love you" the night was something of magic and lore.

He was rounding the corner and passing a blue mail box when it began to rain again, it only made him shake his head with a chuckle. Through the glow of the street lights, he could catch sight of the crystalline droplets falling towards the street. He didn’t mind the rain; it was beautiful to watch it as he walked on. Though, he wouldn’t have mind if it had been a clear and warm night like the 4th of July he and Amber spent together. She loved fireworks, and for her, they climbed into his dark red Saturn, and drove out to the country just so she could have the pleasure of lighting a few. She was alive in those dazzling lights of white, blues, reds and greens. Laughing brightly as she would jump back just in time as a Roman candle or Screaming Mimi went off. He could have sworn he was in love with her up to that point, but watching her laugh and jump around like that, he then knew he was in love. He couldn’t imagine not having her in his life. It was August during a camping trip is when he fold himself down upon one knee, the scent of pine hanging heavy one the fresh and humid air. How he confessed his heart, when he held the ring up to Amber, looking into those hazel eyes he had fallen into so many times.

He shook his head a little as he crossed the intersection that lead too the mall if one kept going straight, but he was making a right, the residential area. They were building new houses in one of the old fields, typical, most likely wouldn’t stop until not a damn field was left. He took another short cut, passing through some of the unfinished houses that stood skeletal against the cold night air and rain. He remembered how they didn’t talk the entire month of September, Amber had turned down his proposal, she thought they were moving much to fast. It broke his heart, through tears he drove back to the city alone, leaving her with her friends. It had to be the worse month of his life, and he barely left the house except for work, and even at work he was silent.

It wasn’t until he received a call one night in October. "Please, don’t hang up…can we talk?" Amber said softly over the phone. It was near Halloween when they finally met face to face after wading his way through pint sized ghouls and ghost accompanied by their guardians. She had come over to his place. She admitted she was scared to take such a big step, having been burned horribly once before in the past. Some how they found themselves making love on the couch as a B horror movie played in the background, she murmured quietly in his ear that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

At the home stretch, he found himself nearly procrastinating as he slid his hands out of his pocket, the row of house on both sides familiar to him under the mixture of water and night sky. The tremendous pine trees swayed back and forth, one of the reasons why Amber chose to live in that particular neighborhood. She loved trees and nature, he almost laughed a little to himself when he remembered teasing, calling her a hippie and flower child. November; Thanksgiving had already passed, not like either of them paid attention as they discussed plans for their wedding. Amber wanted a wedding that wasn’t traditional, she thought that sort of thing was oppressive for one reason or another. It honestly didn’t matter to him; long as she would marry him he would have had a brown paper bag event.

He walked up the cobble stone path leading to the house, the rain falling gently all around him. He stepped onto the porch and then walked in. The only lights on in the house were a mixture of stale pale blues from the television upstairs creeping along the walls and steps of the stairs and flickering orange from the fire place in the living room that flickered mutely like a silent picture. He had been called away on business; it was only suppose to be a 2 week trip. Amber acted as if it was going to be months or years, she even cried the night before.

He walked in through the living room and up the stairs to her room, the stairs he remembered carrying her large furniture up with her father, Amber’s father threw his knee out when they started with the desk. Into the bedroom, he saw her as lovely as she had always been. Lying on her bed with a black and white quilt, the roses had been placed in a vase on the night stand by their picture, the living blood red of the petals vivid against the glossy black of the vase. The television cast a faint blue light against her sleeping form, the quilt awkwardly arranged. He could see she was still wearing her fuzzy, storm gray sweater. Her silver ring glinting in the faint light as he stood there looking upon her for a moment, closing his eyes. He kneeled beside the bed and gently kissed her on the brow, able to smell the sweet smell of her vanilla perfume. "I’m sorry." He whispered gently as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "I didn’t mean to do this to you."

The phone rang

First once then twice causing her to sit up in a groggy stupor before her hazel eyes looked through the sleep induced haze. Her nimble fingers touched the ring upon her finger, and she looked around once mumbling his name.

A Third ring.

She run a hand through her chestnut brown hair and turned her eyes to the television as it left commercial and the news returned.

A Fourth ring.

The anchor talking at a calm but urgent pace, pictures of a train over turned and twisted.

A Fifth ring.

All alone in a room filled with the fluttering blue glow of the television she stared upon the wreckage as she brought a trembling hand to her plumb colored lips. Her hazel eyes quickly filling then over flowing with tears when her heart and ears heard the words; "No Survivors."

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 04, 2004 18:03 | link | comments (2)
writings

There will be a post coming in the next few days, I promise.  I just have so much crap to do right now I haven't had time to do much of anything...

Posted by: hitokiriyuki at June 02, 2004 19:10 | link | comments (2)