anyposs

sweat-soaking
  juice-soaking
     ever more juice-dripping
   down
the sleeves of this
                           bath-robe.
sun-up, to
   sun-down,
 I shiver in its warmth. Home
       is what comes to
mind.exe, as I
play.gif
    with all of my
friends.jpeg
                           online.
I wish to break from this cocoon, and break-fast on my broken-back, feasting upon the iridescent wings I once used to fly.

And so the men of wood, stone, and steel, after a day in the rain, return to their homes made of plastic.

But my home, O, my home, is made of wax, dripping golden hands down wooded floors, fragrant with the power of Pine-Sol, baby. The floor’s boughs way heavy with the scars of wolves at play, joy bleeding from their wounds like paper cuts from an old spell book. Spells of dancing, spells of laughter; spells of worry, spells of despair. So much doubt… But despair no more, child, for we have scriptures ripe to replace yours! Vibrate through the echoes of our fathers, and swear upon the oak mantle that you are descendant. Soak your tongue on the ashes of our stone heroes, burned to a crisp by the dragons they sought to slay. Join their side on that oak mantle as you chase your very own damsel in distress and don’t stress the distress you press against the corridor walls of your heart and please in part ignore the stars that dart through your eyelids cuz those celestial masterpieces were not made for you. Do not love the dragon that stole your damsel; that love is not made for you. Burn your wick on the oak mantle here in your home of wax, made just for you.

Alright, since my boredom has caught up with me (as indicated by my increased dabbling in Dungeons & Dragons), I've decided to make this journal just an ordinary journal. And ordinary for me is a journal about dreams. Quite literally a dream journal. So, with out further ado, I will account what I remember from last night's dream in a disjointed-list format:

Space station school. Lots of girls. Ancient alien temple near station colored Dr. Seuss red. Mystical forest. Rune tablets. Ancient alien script. In between waking and dream, hear brother get out of bed, put on pants, walk towards door, stop at foot of my bed, and say a somewhat devious "Hi."

That last part about my brother was extremely creepy and horrifying for some reason. Especially since my brother is about 50 miles away at college. I awoke widely to respond with "Hi" to the ghost-brother (as I will call him, I know it wasn't his ghost) and did not sleep for the rest of the night. My only hope is that this is as far as my borderline hallucinations go. Peace.

Boredom. That's all I got to say about why I'm writing this journal. Thousands of subreddits explored, hundreds of them actually read, and a one month Runescape membership haven't been able to occupy me. 5 days a week, I am at "work" as a "project manager assistant." Although it really is just me hanging around my dads office at a construction site, dicking around the web with no job with a paycheck in site. I put myself here because of a certain suspension from a certain college because of the use of certain substances, so I guess this relentless boredom is my due punishment. But I shouldn't be bored and unhappy.  I have means to distract myself in every way, a warm home full of food and love to go back to, and an attractive, young body to call my own... but for some reason I am not happy. This has been my definition of happiness for so long that I've forgotten how to define things. Writing words about these things I guess is defining something, but it's more or less defining the absence of something. I don't know... I'll probably end up writing a series of something in these journals eventually. Toodles.