is betrayal a silent act carried within the heart, or is it a boisterous moment wrought within the confusion of passion? Is love a word, a feeling, or a way of being? Is hate not born within one, but perhaps breathed into us by the inequities of the world surrounding us? Is beauty within this world, or simply an unnecessary byproduct that we have given foolish sentimental value? Do not all things compliment each other?

death is certain, its hour uncertain.

They call us liars though they have never been down our roads. We tell them truths and they bend it to fiction on a childish whim because we are ugly and broken. They are loved and so sheltered shining within a perfection that we can never obtain though it is our distraught stories they wish to tell. You dont see it in their eyes, because the most adept already lie to the core of their souls, making their fiction indistinguishable from the truth. You see it in their soft hands, beautiful faces, and unblemished bodies. Our hand are rough and calloused, our faces distorted with the years, our bodies scarred through the wounds of trials and tribulations that could never fully be explained and never honestly believed. I am wounded by this. I feel like a liar even though i speak the truth. I feel like this image i perpetuate is constantly a lie, controlling myself in such a manner that i loose faith in myself just to be allowed to fit in, just to hide the fact that i know what it means to kill. This thing inside me doesn't allow these hands to create, constantly reminding me of my talent for ruin. Yesterday i broke into four different rooms and did it with such ease. Yesterday i ripped apart the locks keeping me out because i could. Yesterday i looked a man who had been part of the Israeli forces in the eye and he took back what he said because he knew i would not stop regardless of how i bled. I am disgusted with myself for this. I am tired of these destructive hands, they serve no purpose but their own. I had wanted to create but i realize that i know not how. I am another beast who walks within the lands of Cains shadow, seeking nothing but love but finding only his inability to accept it. Is it wrong for me to accept my nature? Is it wrong to want to bleed all this bad blood away and in favor return as one who need not worry about the discrepancies of his soul? Is it so wrong to ask for forgiveness though i know not to be worthy? Is it not wrong to want to be someone that you are not?

note to self: ale please stop getting black out drunk and writing nonsense. thanks.

-ale

desire and passion are two different things. I have learned this the most difficult of ways. though my desire dies my passion has not. Through all this time i have never forgot, who i am and what i am and what i am meant to be. i see far beyond this simple tapestry. MY savagery i will never forget. My heart on possibility is set. SO do not show your face, do not dare bring him to this place. For in my stead, when met face to face and challenged head to head, i will not resist, without knowing pain i will surge from this fist. Five fingers clenched so tight could only come to represent my desire. I will never come undone and for me i expect no heroes song to be sung. I am a villain a filthy beast and for such notion i will not be discreet.

the bitter fruit of betrayal was plucked from the branches of the tree of knowledge. the tree of knowledge grew in opposition to the tree of life. Did you savor your meal as i do mine? Do you savor it still through all this time? Will you savor its taste when the sword of god comes, when the work of justice is wrought and done? Or will you turn unto his cold steel, and in begging forgiveness kiss iron ore and kneel, peeling absolution from wretched flesh, seeking grace within final breath?

its been rough as of late. i am not going to lie. I am in upstate maine (doing various film workshops) until the end of october and all i can think about is all my friends and loved one that i have left behind. It doesnt help that once i get back at the beginning of november, that in two months (january) i will be leaving to head out to new Zealand to work in a TV studio for more or less than four months. Life has done nothing for me as of late but provide me twist and turns but the truth is that i feel most adapt at life when i have no idea what is coming next. i can only hope that these experiences do not keep me from connecting with those around me even though i already know that those ties have been severed. I feel on my own and i am afraid of what i am capable of because the creature within my soul stirs calling for violence. It is because of this that i am somewhat happy that i am gone. There has always been an element to me that wishes nothing more than to deconstruct and dissect all the elements around me, wether i am honest or dishonest. I can not help but pay heed to the tell tale signs of my personality and admit sometimes to myself that my remoteness helps protect those i love from me true self. I feel torn between my nature and acceptance from the society that governs us. We live so subserviently afraid to enact our true god given natures and for this i am forced to apologize. I will not do you anymore disservice than i have already done. Good night and safe keeping. If i am lucky we will meet again.

why do most men commit to affairs the end in blood shed. it is true that men posses a side that is barbarous as you have observed but it is a double edged sword, it can be a tool used to win precious things as well as protecting them. I believe that beneath everything there is something more precious than love and friendship. I speak of dreams. Men are driven to pursue it and pursue it only for their own sake. One mans dream can hold dominion over the entire world. Like one who dedicates his life to the forging of a single sword, they can pursue their dreams in solitude while some dreams are like great storms blowing hundreds even thousands of dreams apart in their wake. dreams breath life into men and can cage them in suffering. Men live and die by their dreams but long after they have been abandoned they still smolder deep in mens hearts. Some see nothing more than life and death, they are dead for they have no dreams.

even now i can read your mind. you are an open book to me, always and forever. That frightens you but there is no need to worry. I will not use the secrets of your soul against you. I am already cosigned and obliged to my end. I just wanted to see you smile again, and again. I can distinguish the fake from the real , and to see your face distorted in pleasure reassures my conscious that i have not been a waste. Somehow this distorted form has lived a purpose beyond purposes. and arrived to days where his own worth is outweigh by another. Perhaps this is all i need in the end and perhaps i am deserving something better, but i am not one to complain with that look on your face and that heat upon your breath. I just wanted to be part of your happiness, and thats all i have ever asked.

Me estoy quitando

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-1gNpES-iA