Mr. Odd Archive (Onision's Old Website)

Rambling Confusion

I write as I go... following word after word... what shall I say today as I scratch my crotch and listen to nails grace my face... my ears.

Try to save my mind but my mind just falls away... away from what I saw today, tomorrow, last week... I'm gone.

In finding myself I see only confusion and mixed perception. Oooh diggity, is it the best of November yet? Is it the one day I seek out every waking day of the year? Is it the day I finally find meaning, only to lose it all again the next, 364 away from the day I wanted to always be a part of, endlessly.

I found a condo today... an apartment... but is she a druggie? Will she really take me in, or blow me out? I found a cozy shell amongst a cluster amongst patches, amongst earthly structures amongst existence...

The French woman sings in my ear of how she loves me unless I am one of them ~ the devil no... the god no... the pergist... no.

Unless I am what her father told her to hate... I feel so alone with you, no you, no you, all of you, no, just you. It is as if the world turns inward, asking me to feel complete, and what I find is what I seek most is something I can't even imagine... just yet.

Mmm... embrace me... oh do embrace me... or will you just let this all go... I don't want you to touch me, just stay for a while... or maybe I would feel better if you had never showed up from the source.

I don't see love in what is so fragile as human perception... you seem to like my smile... but wait... would you like his smile on my face better? Is it because I am me? What is "me"? A combination of chemicals that if they were to change you would convict me for life in the category of insane!?

No... I think I'm done with looking, seeking, feeling... If I placed this knife, in your throat, if I slit, tugged, pulled away at your organs... you would not love me any longer... If I were so insane...

Maybe mothers are those most divine... I love you son, but you must die... she says... you've killed too many cats, dogs, people... and after you die, so will I... she says... she says... she says... oh gosh.

It looks like I'll have to kill you mom.

I am Gregory James Daniel... and I am lonely beyond what any comfort could silence.

I wrote this long long ago... (a few weeks actually)