Join Us in Despair

You know when you were a kid and your diary was full of angst and woe-is-me-ness? That is what this blog is for. Lost your job, dog is sick, someone stole your parking spot, crashed your car, just generally glum? This is the place to put all that lovely grey and those long drawn out sighs.

Lists of sad songs. Depressing movie reviews. Top ten reason to stay in bed. All things not happy. Bring them here.

Are you sick, are you tired? Have you been sick & tired for a year? Share it here. Unhappy, gloomy, dismal, down in the dumps, miserable only. Did you have a bad day, a month... share. Not that tragedy and despair can't be funny, contributors are welcome to make their posts goofy, witty, laugh-out-loudable, just not happy or upbeat.

Would you like to be part of the DD&D project? Do you have a sad story, a rant, a poem of a lost love? Join us as a contributor.

Monday, February 13, 2012

it began when I was young

There’s a dirty vine that twist around the old house on Danny Drive. Were as younglings we learned of the hearts we would resurrect and kill; time and time again we do it. Did it. This cycle of forever is not going to change. My heart always runs through my mouth and stands twelve steps ahead. My mind over your matter? It never works.

We are a mess of errors and brokenness. Pieces of shrapnel with residual flesh.

I have not forgotten. How can I when my first life still shouts your name? I dream of you sometimes; or rather of who I wanted you to be, as though my subconscious operates for nothing but to ambush my waking world. The world in which you find out too late about what it means to live, to love and to be loyal to your own flesh and blood. This yearning is more than a shade of sorrow. It is a flame burning into itself, unto itself, and these tenth-degree burns on my flesh are more powerful than an earthquake.

I was the granted you took. I was the away you threw. I was the out you cast. Really, what voice do I have left to ask for anything from you? What word can I speak to change the mind of destiny to take us all back and make you whole and unbroken so that we could be as well? I can play with words for seven lifetimes. But oftentimes every syllable is a whipping.

Every letter is a flaying that eats layers of skin from kin. This cycle of forever is not going to change and sometimes I forget the forgiving.