Aslan's Land

Tonight my mind is sitting on the bench. I have been put out. Shot out. Expelled to Planet Ringo. The temperature is just shy of 40 degrees. The frozen water burns on my face. The sky is black and raining ash. The tide of the ocean pours onto my feet, gushing through my black combat boots. Yes, I am still ready for war. I am on the bench, not in the hospital. I over look the horizon, lightning comes from the setting sun and tidal waves are rushing towards me. PSALV-MURON, the holiest wave of my youth, comes at me now. It is not a power I can hold my bat to; it is not a demon I can conquer in battle. I cannot run to or from the wave, for it is linear in manner and parallel to time. It is coming. It is crashing down. In comparison I am a small man. One of fear and hesitation. I need to crouch down and take precautions, but I am paralyzed in my fear and weakness.

What will I find behind this wave?

The depths of darkness and loneliness? A sea of regret? Will I find myself in lockdown and another world thrown away? Will reality even keep its meaning?

Or blue skies and the eternal sun? Or a new crew and the true cowboys? Or a girl anew, bewitched by the numinous love of the true creator? Or the shore of Asland?

Oh how I wish to see the shore of Asland. If you don’t know where that is, it is the land of the noble savages. Void of the user. Void of the liars.

AM I A USER? AM I A LIAR?

Not do I use, not do I lie. Is it my destiny to do so?

My body continues to shiver and quake. It is in part due to the high voltage in this reigon of Ringo, due to the vanishing ARX-IGNIDERMIS. My body cannot stop beating, my body cannot stop stop pumping blood from my pores. The sun penetrates my leather skin. My fear dissipates the arx-ignidermis, my screams leave my only protection in ruins. I bury under the glass and steel that makes my home. My current home that is.

I am away. I am on the bench. I now live in a glass wasteland. The only thing that moves is the deep ocean. The only thing that moves is the only thing I fear. The only way I can leave is if I face Psalv-Muron. Perhaps I do not have to face it alone. There are two. A true cowboy and the girl.

The Champ of Angels.

A true cowboy. A man worthy of song. His face is like an angel, and he is gentle. Despite all of his strength he doubts the power of his words. Despite the power of his words. I gotta feeling in my gut that me an him are gonna be buds for a long time. If there ever was a true cowboy, he’s one that’s faithful and blue. I find security in his commitment to my cause. When a champ like my friend says hes got your back, you know that that demon is full of shit.

Blackbird.

The girl in my dreams. Honestly she might be my wife. The question that rumbles in my head is not if I could see us get old together. The question is it her destiny to be my wife. That is the question in my head. Skin like the setting sun, and hair like a cold dark night. When were together, folk music plays and poets play piano. My legs shake and my heart is calm again. My lips stop moving and my eyes start speaking. My secrets are safe. My tears are safe. She is not ashamed of me. I don’t know if she can handle me, but I know she’s not giving up. Neither am I.

So am I prisoner? Am I captive?

Lord keep wisdom close to my bedside. My shelter is breaking, my land is foreign. My life is feigning, but opportunity is my doctrine. Hold my eyes to the wave, let them not stray to the lightning. Stay and wait for me to change, what is a patient without his doctor? You are that which I love. The song of my soul. If you keep your eyes upon me, perhaps, perhaps I will grow old.

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The Place Where You Can Always Beat Your Fists

I'm here to raise my drink to your desperate ballad.Scream at me through your clenched teeth.I know youre not alright.It's not alright.I know everything's all wrong.Everyone is gone.I watched them leave. I see you plead. You throw your fist at my chest. And I try. And I can't sleep. My heart is fucking yours and I'm not going home.I passed up the exit for the retreat 8 miles back. This world is filled to the brim with retreat, and not enough people to meet you where your at. Your'e not alright. Its not alright. You can keep up the fight. You can lose and give up. Either way tell me whats up. Cause its still not alright and it wasnt alright and it probably wont be alright! I know darling. Sing me that song. Rage against me with full force. Tell me about what they do to those who bleed. Tell me how you came to know your demons. Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you. Yes they brought me down too. Even though we keep on weepin we can still hold hands. Thats where God's at. Thats where God's at.

My Button Breakdown

There I lie. I lie in the chopped grass in the center of the field. In this valley no one can see me. I am in my sanctuary. Their words wrap around me and as I assemble there, the puzzle, I attempt to dig into myself. Bat in hand becomes my shovel as I drive it into my heart. But I cannot go deep enough. I cannot penetrate my soul. Not with their words. I only reach ores of this world, only rocks defined by ages that will wilt away in their seasons. I am far from my core.

My mind often wanders off of their rhapsody. Onto the cold wind seeping through my clothes. Grabbing hold of my attention. Manipulating me into shivers. Surely the mere air is not as powerful as the songs of my kin? Surely their words are immortal as I am. I feel the muscles grow underneath my back and my legs become strong and durable as I run. I only know this prime.

I know the sweet kisses of young girls under my high school’s trees at lunch. I know the approval of my coach as I run faster than I ever have. I know how to put the shapes of our bodies onto paper. I know the immortal heroes in my books. I know the fearless rebels in my movies. I know my three scars, the one on my leg, the one on my chin and the one below my lip.

Now, in present time, as the cold wind took me away, the cold wind brings me back. I am not with my young sweethearts. I am not with my coaches or my paper. I am not with my rebels or heroes. I am with my scars. I am with their words. I am with the cold wind and the short grass. I am with myself.

I am taken away by distractions. I want to be close to my soul. I want to hold and look at its depths, unclothed and naked. I want to see the curves and its sides and the habits and the movements of my soul. I want to be close to myself. I am not close to myself.

I am close to these words and these girls and approval and fiction. But I am not any of those things. That is not who I am!

Am I the contents of my heart? Am I the contents of my actions? Am I mortal? I am out here to ask these questions. To even ask why these questions are stirring in my heart to begin with. In my failure, as I search for definition I have found a case of buttons to put on my coat. I am not unclothing and I am not even putting on more clothes. I am putting buttons on my coat. I like girls. I like indie rock and roll music. I like comic books. Just buttons on a coat.

Back in the present I have discarded my clothes. I have discarded my headphones. I am kneeling on my blanket. This world offers me no solution. The papers are lost and the heroes are forgotten. My body fails me. The love of my girl dulls into gray. I grow out of these songs like a pair of jeans that don’t fit me. The alcohol and tobacco isn’t worth and the weed doesn’t take away the pain. I am not even into drugs anyways.

I lay naked on the blanket in the center of this sanctuary and I have discarded this world. All I feel is the cold wind getting stronger and stronger. And I bow and kneel before something stronger. I have no other choice now, I am tired of fighting and struggling, I am weary and ready to admit who I am. That’s what I want to know isn’t it?

I open my bloodshot eyes and there I kneel.

The Angry Sun and The Southern Land

The air smells of my sweat and my nicotine. The angry sun is unrelenting in the southern land. I grind my teeth as I impossibly sleep through this goddamned unbearable heat. I dream of the strange beast. The animal is like a rabid wolf with super-real presence. Its numinous words are like that of a lion. Ears are like planks. The spine is protruding from its shallow body. Its human hands dig their dirty fingers into the soil. When it speaks, it speaks of my thorns being my demise. About how it will conquer me.

I tremble.

The air smells of my sweat and my nicotine. The angry sun is unrelenting in the southern land. The true cowboys are weeping on my porch. We read the books on my shelf. We don’t smile, we don’t believe. Strip me of my shirt and shoes. Vent with a bloody fist and book of poems. Love a good girl but only cry for your good men. Don’t you dare fear blood or sweat or your older brother or the insanity of the crimes against me. Remember that only broken heroes and underdogs can bring us hope. Give a firm goddamn handshake. Look a man in the goddamn eye. Don’t forget the poor, cause the rich are void of all beauty. And never turn your back on any son today or tomorrow.

I am no backbreaker.

The air smells of my sweat and my nicotine. The angry sun is unrelenting in the southern land. She wears her black tanktop and her cutup jeans and her black converse shoes. She don’t sweat. She smells strongly of lavender. Her hair shines blue. Her love is desperate. Her grip is nonexistent. She don’t know why I love her. She don’t know why she gotta be. She sings me sweet blues in the summertime and tells me horrible stories in the winter. There’s a story for every line on her body. And its proof that it’s tragic and its proof that it happened. Along with the wolf and the castles, the girl appears in my dreams every night. We fight these creatures together. But were separated. At the end of every good fight we gotta say goodbye.

I sleep alone.

The air smells of my sweat and my nicotine. The angry sun is unrelenting in the southern land. But the air is cool now. The moons up. Everything is pitch black except for the white moon. Sometimes, when the moon is full, I imagine it to be the eye of God himself. Sometimes, many times, its just me, the moon, and the clothes on my back. I take my bat with me whenever I can, cause you never know what demon awaits me. I know I’m a wanted man. But I fear no evil, for God is with me. I fear the Lord. God knows I beg him for mercy, for she knows I need to. God knows I sing him sweet songs under moonlight. If I ever had a lover I had Christ. God knows I sing with whatever I got, to raise an upbeat sound amidst the rampant pain and paranoia. God knows I don’t just sing my song for me, I sing it for her and the real cowboys. I got this one life to sing me song. Violence may ensue, bad men may curse us, and treasures may be lost. But we got what we got. Hallelujah.

I know me song.

There Was No Thief

As I walked to the Library,

I hoped you would follow me.

I needed you to ask me if I was okay.

I was crying for help.

I wanted you to sit down next to me, but I did not think you would. My heart is filled of doubt of every sort.

You sat down next to me.

You asked me immediately what was wrong.

I always, unfortunately, have my emotion written all over my face, hopelessly holding it despite how much I want to hide how I feel.

And, I knew you saw right through.

I was cold to you.

Cold and rude and lame.

And angry.

Furious.

You walked away in anger as I refused to talk to you.

Everything in me wants to talk to you.

If you ever read this.

God, I hold back so much emotion in school. These past few weeks I have been thinking of screaming as loud as I can in the middle of class. I often wish to get up and throw my desk across the room.

Its actually really fucking embarrassing how close I come to tears in class.

I know how to solve this, talk to someone.

Honestly here is what I want someone to hear. What I need someone to know.

I feel there is this passionate fire for people in my heart, an undying love that wants to heal man's pain, by sharing and living strongly in the Gospel, the only thing truly capable of restoring this fucked up world. But I fear, to the point of intense despair, that my fire for change will be snuffed out by my incompetence.

Everyone I talk to tells me to quit fighting for lost causes. That I'm in over my head, and I need to back down before I hurt myself or someone else.

I don't want to back down. I know deep in my heart, beyond the facts that I exist and that the sun will rise tomorrow morning, that this is my calling.

It is my hope for a purpose, to be God's hand, to love, and everything around tells me to give it up.

I am not just scared, I am terrified.

I want to tell this to someone.

But apparently I scare everyone off. Sometimes it seems like everyone I love is disgusted by me.

I don't know whats wrong with me.

Sometimes when I talk to people, I feel like they tuck everything into a pocket, where the crazy talk goes. I feel like you do this as well as Annalese. I feel like sometimes even Will does this. Like Im being over dramatic and ridiculous.

I do not wish to be. I often hate the way I am. And I am trying constantly to change myself. To better myself. To be sane enough to be heard....

It doesn't take much to send me stumbling. I will just start to feel off. As if I'm chemically imbalanced.

But I don't want more pills. I want an actual solution.

I am slipping but I am smart enough not to grab for twigs.

Maybe they do see me as just a pessimistic self-loathing self-centered incompetent naive boy who has no tact. And maybe that actually is my issue...

Yes I have faith. I know I have quite a lot of faith. I can be loving and kind and optimistic beyond reason. I know somewhere deep in me there is great potential. I know in me there is a sweet song. The song is soft, and hard to hear in a time like this.

That potential, hides behind all my ugly trophies of all my failure. Those trophies are old ghosts.

I invest an incredible amount of love in everyone who comes anywhere close to me. I invest it easily and quickly. I invest it naturally. This is my nature.

All who know me know this.

Every time I love a person, they become part of me. That love becomes like a tightly woven fabric that comprises the contents my heart.

And while it may take you a couple of weeks to remove me from your life, I spend months and months tearing you out of myself. Trying to move on. Trying to get past the dreams and the constant involuntary flashbacks. Months of lieing about how you feel so that they dont rise up to haunt you again.

There isn't a day where I don't think about you still. Quite honestly, I hate it. I am so worn and so frustrated. Today was particulatelly bad.

If you couldn't tell already, this blog is something of a cry for help. This blog linked to my facebook and its free for anyone to see. Thats the thing about the internet. Your thoughts arent solitary. But as you can see my thoughts have never been solitary whether I want them to be or not. But this is more of an actual deceleration that I want help.

I hate calling out for help now. People look at me like I'm hopeless or crazy, like I am totally improper holding those emotions out in front of them. Plus, I feel like a self-pitying wretch, that or some hopelessly fanatic and delusional Christian.

But I guess its better than fueling up on whiskey, or self mutilating, or drowning my sorrows in the countless bottles of pills I have access to.

But really and honestly, I tired of not being able to sleep. I'm tired of the nightmares when I do sleep. I'm tired of being avoided by my friends. I'm tired of my endless hallow gaze as I try to retain composure. So if you've cared enough to read through all of this, you get to see me say it.

I need help. I need someone to listen. I need someone to listen to my story, all of it, the Gospel included. I am slipping away from existence.

Julianne. For the longest time you were that person. I loved you with all I had. You loved me like I didn't know someone could. You changed the way I look at the world. You broke my heart thrice. You have replaced me with someone else. We are so far away from each other now. I don't know if you are happy, despite the fact that I see you everyday. I hope you are. When I saw how sick you got at choosing between me and Alex I backed off. Then I was angry, cause I never believed that you would choose him over me. I hurt you. And I may have hurt you again today. I'm sorry. I regret my actions with every fiber of my being. My impulsive behavior has caused so much unneeded destruction to our hearts. You moved on. You asked me to as well. I am trying my best. But you see right through me. You see the state I'm in. When you left, I wasn't just losing the only girl I wanted to be with, but I lost a person who played an incredible role in my life. You were that person that I need so desperately right now.

God, when you asked me for help, I utterly failed you.

Im so sorry.

My heart is not filled to the brim with coldness and ugliness. My heart refuses to give up a portion of you. If you would, come back, find me, and ask me again.

Cause really Julianne, I'm not okay. I feel utterly alone. I feel I am the witness of horrendous crimes, and I have been rendered ineffective in stopping their effects.

There is no thief that stole my hope. Its deep inside me. I get distracted and deviate. So help me, by God if you love me.

Down

Blue Jeans & White T-Shirts. My comfort song. By The Gaslight Anthem.

My mind is overweighted by its contents. The weight of these events and thoughts seem to be heavy for me. This summer I was awakened to how desperately fallen we are. It feels like everyone is out of focus wandering in a self centered blur. Happiness is just a mere illusion for some. God is beyond a dreamer's dream. Our purpose is totally flipped upside down.

Trent said that Christ preached on an upside-down kingdom. Well isn't it a tragedy that our kingdom is the one thats upside down. Our kingdom being world, and what is at he center of our hearts. Its completely opposite of what it was supposed to be.

I myself am in denial. On so many fashions, I am the one upside down. I am restraining myself but I hate my heart. I want to think I am above all of this.. but I am this.

If I had my way what boundaries would I not cross? Why do I seem to be an evil thing that loves Good. Backwards, my friends. Its all backwards.

Julianne and I are over. I don't trust her anymore. She doesn't want me in her life. She says that she loves me. She says that she cares for me. I don't believe it. We never knew what love was. We just know what it is to be tangled. To be enraptured.

I told her without God, this relationship wouldn't survive. I don't think she listened to me.

No one listens to that sort of stuff anymore.

I don't know why not.

He has saved me, from myself. I would have death, but I love life. Only he gives me control to choose what I love rather than be controlled by the mechanisms and impulses.

Why do we deny it so?

She wants another man. I don't have a chance anymore any how. It was a month before I had the clue to what was going on. I didn't understand why she broke up with me. So, in my extreme arrogance, I became angry and lashed at her. Now, she is cold to me. She doesn't tell me the truth. Not when I ask for it. Especially now that I need it.

I don't know what to do. How do I mend a relationship that needs to be mended when I don't even know where the fires on the bridge are. I can feel the heat and I know there's danger, but I don't know where.

People tell me to let go of her, but I hate that idea so much. She wants me to let go of her. I am just a boy, I do not know why the gun was handed to me to put down something I find, so beautiful.

I am angry. I feel that everything is so unjust. I hate being lied to. I hate that I was not trusted, when it seemed that I had never committed any crime.

All these emotions get tangled up, and they want to move and exercise themselves in ways that bring me disgust. Do you see how the world just breaks in front of us when we do? Sometimes I feel crippled and helpless in the wake of my own thrashing limbs.

Do you know what it is to be a void? To be in such despair when nothing matters. When the kingdom is really flipped onto its head. When you're the only thing that matters.

Oh and it is preached. It pains me to see but it is true. Self-centeredness is preached. It is the aim of the american dream. It has its routes in our entertainment, in our teaching, in our children. Making God the enemy. How twisted is it when God is Love. Love is the enemy!?! Are you serious!

Do you see why it pains my heart to see it so?

This is what I want.

I want change.

But not some sort of vague political dogma, I want a change in heart. I want a change in the heart of my community. And I don't want to let myself be torn down by time, something I find merely an illusion. I'm not saying this for some self-righteous, holier than thou, mission. My heart is so imperfect. So broken. It twists my thoughts, and justifies evil. What I see in others is merely a recognition of my same behavior. I don't want anyone to have God as their enemy. Like I said, such a beautiful thing as our enemy? No I want to see peace in this torn world.

I want to see people see truth. To see things clearly. Can we throw pessimism out of the window? We have someone who loves us infinitely. It is The Gospel. Please don't throw it out. If time defeats you and sin defeats you and brokenness defeats you, than you and I are the same. Can you, like me, refuse to relent, and demand to be known? Can we stop refusing to believe that there is no hope?

Something in my heart cries for others. When I come in contact with God, things become clear. My heart changes. Things are untangled. It is as if someone climbed into my head and put everything in its proper place.

See, I will not be held down. Never. There is to much injustice to lay under the grip of anything. I must be moving. Acting. That is the call of my heart.

Who I am Hates Who I've Been

Well its true. I don't hate me though. But as you probably know... its the brokenness of the world that gets to me. Its the brokenness of myself. My lust and my anger. My self-centered heart and all my shame.

And as you've probably heard before.. I like the me that lives on Christ's every word.

Lately, its funny. I feel like God has been listening to my every word. Especially when all else is almost pulling away from me, I feel like he is here to push reality back to me. Lets say that he is a guard to the gate of oblivion for me. He wont let me go there. I'm not invited in. He will bring me back, someway somehow, whatever.

Like Travis Hager. A good friend. Listens. Wants to keep tabs on me. Its real nice to have anyone who wants to keep tabs on you.

Like Annalese Kate. To show me my love still means something to kids who might need it. To show me people still need genuine love. To show me people will be there to accept it.

Like Julianne. A beauty to fight for. To let me know I'm alive. I lost the last text she sent me saying she loved me. I want hear that again. I don't think Ive heard it for the last time. Or at least my heart tells me so.

Corbin Chase seems to think I have this crazy awesome direct communication with God. I think I am just able to give him credit, therefore letting him be known to my soul. I try to humble myself... although lately I really haven't done that enough. I've been aggressive.. and really hypocritical. People don't like that. I don't.

Yeah. Speaking of what I don't like.

Julianne worries me. Not only do I miss her, but I feel like she's plagued with shame. Something I know WAY too much about. She can't sleep. She's throwing up. She says its stress. What can I do? I tell her funny things about my life. Maybe the mere attention helps. I hope so. Thats all I can really give. She doesn't trust me like she used to. I really wish she did. God, I wish she would let me in with all my heart. I wish and pray that she stops hurting.

Sometimes I wish I had supernatural powers to take burdens away from people. Or just maybe that my prayers would be strong enough too do so. I wish I could do miracles. Maybe someday Christ will use me in that way.

Ive been listening to good music.

The Glass Parade. Cary Brothers.

Many of Horror. Biffy Clyro.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAh--lH0H3U&ob=av3e

The Queen of Lower Chelsea. The Gaslight Anthem. Love this to DEATH.

Head On a Plate. Bayside.

Blame It On the Changes. Dashboard Confessional.

Hey Jude. Joe Anderson.

As The Stars Fall. The Cinematic Orchestra.

Rough Hands. Alexisonfire.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGBXTVfgE-I

Sleepyhead. Passion Pit. You should know this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zherMkcXdo

Stars in the Streetlight. Chamberlain.

Robots Can F*ck Your Sh*t Up. The Gay Blades. Wonderful, not gay.

Me and Mia. Ted Leo and The Pharmacists
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsuC_dB77PI

Lets Make Out. Does it offend you, yeah. It might offend you, its fun though.

This Boy's In Love. The Presets
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WO45oUdRqTs

Check it son.

Maybe I put some songs up here later.

Fuck. I get lonely at night. Why is that? Why is it that if I ever stay up past one, I get uber lonely? I dont know. Its a mystery to me.

Please. Oh please one with answers. Give me insight. So that I may rid myself of my aches. Please. Oh the first touch. Give me your presence. So that everything melts away, like an armor revealing my white body. Melt away, not as an illusion. No. Give me truth or leave me to die. Please. Oh one with answers. Give me truth. So that I may not die.