So I was thinking...

"Don't"

Haha, very funny. But anyways, I was thinking: we have quite a few conversations in our head that really should be said publicly in some form. You know, those conversations we simulate in our head when they really could have happened at that time.

"the ones you never bother starting"

... Exactly. But it's not because I'm just lazy or bad with words, you know.

"Isn't it?"

Not completely. It also seems too likely the conversation would derail, leading somewhere pointless or unexpected. Thing is, even if I'm reasonably sure how someone would react or respond, I can't be 100% confident things will go that way. However, I think I've found an alternative.

"I don't follow. Or rather, I do, and I hope I'm wrong"

Nope. We're totally doing this.

"Really. You're not worried about projecting like this? You do realize this is the most involved conversation you've had in _years_, right? Even I, one of your inner voices, have to admit this is _really_ sad."

Hey, as long as it lets me put these thoughts in some semblance of order, that's fine by me. It's worth saying anyways.

Dialogue in Mono

So, the idea of recording my thoughts as they occur to me is hardly novel. There were the attempts to simulate a forum that devolved into that ridiculous council of schizophrenic projections, and that frankly puzzling disjointed recording of what I can only assume was my mental state at the time. Really, the only difference between those messes and this one is that I'm intending to properly see this one through, without editing or revision.

The general impetus for this recording is the odd realization that I've suddenly grown more... Thoughtful? More driven with regards to working on my hobbies. Considering my usual lethargy in this regard, it's certainly something unusual. Then again, I pick up and drop projects and hobbies with frequency, err, "rather frequently", so perhaps it's just a new thing. I had taken note of this a while after noticing it, but I've only gotten to actually acting on it just now. Actually, that's sort of how my productivity has been lately. I'll get most of the way through a project, and take an unreasonable amount of time to just wrap it up

Anyway, the reason this isn't following my typical MO is simply because it doesn't feel like I could shape this admittedly absurd wall of text, let alone the raw ideas I've committed to noting here, into a form that restricts both my word use and line length. There simply wouldn't be enough space in between lines to read all of this properly. Every line given would be lacking in as many as three things I would want to say, and adding them as a new verse would only expand the issue indefinitely. I guess that's the main issue of such unfocused inspiration, it doesn't really contain and cut off well

"Well, what makes you think a page filled with rambling would work any better?"

Oh, right. I had titled this piece for a reason. Guess it went too far into "Mono", with not enough "Dia". Honestly, prose may be equally useless, but I haven't tried yet, and it seems promising (if a but more strenuous on my writing hand)

"But you are moving away for what you know works. Hell, you've introduced *me* as a way to try and keep yourself on track. Imagine that, making a persona dedicated to pointing out your shortcomings and asking what you're doing, just so you can keep track of what you're doing. What makes this so different from your failed "inner council"?"

Well, you're performing the role of the "Outline", yeah, but it does let me focus on what should be addressed. And you're only one voice, one perspective removed. Too many perspectives in one place made situations where flimsy compromises and wispy-washy statements all too ubiquitous. Here, it's just you and me. I will ramble on his train of thought,  and you're going to point out where things fall short. And really, I didn't make you. That voice of "You honestly kinda suck" has been in here for a while. You just get the chance to actually be recorded. As we always said, the best critic (and most knowledgeable too) is the one living inside your head, watching all of your screwups.

"So you've got an idea of what you're doing, what I'm doing, and where this is going. Remind me again why you think this is spontaneous and honest in nature?"

Because this is *me*. Look at this notepad "reminder" I wrote a few weeks back! *ahem* [Notepad]

That's like, 5 lines. I've barely touched the first, and the notebook has two pages filled already. "plan" for me really just translates to "I have a starting point and maybe [one] coherent sentence". It takes forever for me to get to my point

"then just get to it already"

Can't. That's why I'm limiting myself from using the eraser for this. It's important to see how my thoughts get sidetracked so easily, so things cascade into tangents like round objects do if you try to pile them up on a flat surface. Even here, I still filter some words, and I have to go through the effort of writing, so there's no real representation of the true full extent of how of my distraction. I mean, I am channeling my inner dialogue here, but there are several other factors that have my attention, and random thoughts come and go. For example, I just noticed this is reaching the 2.5 page mark and considered where this will be stored. I'm also keeping a little remark in mind, but the fact that my thoughts are slowed down by the pencil means I can organize everything before I write them down. What was I saying? *Reads back* oh, right, I just idly considered how I would digitize this, and thought a new word doc would suffice. But then I would probably feel the need to add to it, making it sorta diary-ish. It seems odd, to have the poems in a diary, the songs in a notebook, and the diary in a notepad doc. Anyway, what I wanted to point out is that this could have been a Facebook status. Could have just done with "Being too thought-full. Gotta went to get back to thought-empty. Hell, thought-half-full would be good enough right about now"

"Steve would have killed you"

Hold up, switching locations...

"So I couldn't help but notice that's a composition notebook in your backpack, one I'm sure you've never used. So here's a question: why the hell aren't you writing in that?"

I forgot about it, OK? This notebook is more comfortable to write in anyways

"Yeah, and it's screwing with your actual notes. And pray tell, why are you recording this?We had this conversation before you sat down and started writing again"

For the same reason you used the words "pray tell". It's because we thought it, and it falls under the heading of this piece. Besides, we he didn't have this exact conversation *BRB, food*

"You were on the Internet again, weren't you?"

... Yes....

"SCP?"

... Yes.

"This is why it takes you forever to do anything. I'm surprised the constant absorption of information hasn't overwritten any ideas you have"

Well, that's different. The ideas I have seem to take up an entirely different amount of space from the things I've learned. That's one issue with my inability to write copious amounts of poems in one sitting, but easily write almost 4 pages of internal dialogue here (as of now) within about two hours (as of now). It's like a matching puzzle game. Even if I deplete all the tiles of one color, the screen might still be full with all the other colors. Thus, I can be thought-full even though my inspiration is empty

Yeah, but that's probably the case for everyone else too. Even if they vent some of it with talking, what makes this so special? Just stop writing, let it happen, and let it just be forgotten"

I'm not sure I could really do that. Fact is, writing is my way of expressing myself, my substitute for conversation. If I write, maybe I could understand myself, because it's written down, see? It's exempt from my mind's constant state of flux. And maybe if I post it publicly, maybe someone would understand me, or at least respond and spark some new idea. At the very least, it prevents me from simply deleting this and forgetting everything.

"But if you found someone, what then?"

Katawa Shoujo reference? I'd have thought the active narrator would be more likely to make it. I almost made a Shizune reference when describing the act of writing. Anyway, does it matter? Really, the only difference between being understood and being misunderstood is just what I'll write next. I'll still write regardless, and it will still be a true expression of [me]. The only difference would be whether I form it in a way to let others read it, or if I just dive deeper into myself and write what I want.

"So that's that? Got everything off your chest?"

... For now. Not permanently, of course. Hell, we'll probably be walking again in a few moments, off the record. But yes, that's the state of thought-full-ness described, and for the moment, I'm all out of ideas. Plus my hand is cramping.

Penmanship

What weapon holds the most potential?

To me, it is the pen

Though literacy may be essential

The effect is most telling then

With words one can easily slander

Twist truth and lies and ties together

With naught but strokes of ink and thought

Reality is changed forever

In print the flow of ideas is changed

Spun round and round as you will

Those who know not know all to know

Though they may not understand still

Though swords and guns can end your life

They cannot put end to your mind

For it will persist even if you cease to exist

When another reads your words in kind

But words are not weapons, in fact they are tools

Used for deeds both well and ill

They take up all spaces and reach many places

Until the “I”s all have their fill

Consider this page, and what it can do

What are you doing right now?

No matter who you are, no matter when it’s read

I’m sure I can guess somehow

You’re reading these words, some portion of me

You’re letting them through all defenses

You take what I give, so effortlessly

And let it change your pretenses

Consider the power I have in each line

Look what I can do with these words

“Now think of sweet candy! Now think of a lime!”

“Now think of all these things absurd!”

Though might may be right, it is thoughts that pull strings

To control the actions you take

I say pen over sword in all manner of things

With limitless things you can make

Fireworks 2013

To see the active wide fairgrounds

To feel the sun o’er heard

Though night shant fall for many hours yet

The crowd continues to spread

Many stands and stalls stand to stall

Until the masses might hunger

For elephant ears, snowballs and toys

As they wait for one another

There are causes here who spread their word

These books three next to me

I took them to shield myself on this field

But I may read them someday, we shall see

Though winds blow weakly within these hills

And sun burns bright above

And I now sweat though it’s not an hour yet

But this heat will last will the sun’s set

-

Watching these people run and frolic and play

I can’t help but envy their drive

I’m sure they would weather any weather together

Just to prove to all they’re alive

And the church volunteers scattered all around

With bibles in hand to bequeath

Though I may object, they have my respect

To go that far for their own belief

The bubbles fly by, but to my touhou eye

I see only spread danmaku

The mayor has stated the weather has abated

But I’m not quite sure that’s true

-

I got some shaved ice, though it has shown that sink

It happens to all of its type, I think

The color fades down, leaving behind only white

And a lack of the flavor’s delight

I certainly hope the rain fear’s unfounded

Because with this note here, the problem’s compounded

Because I’m a being of paper and power

I don’t appreciate a light rain shower

The books would get soaked, the ink here would run

And I would certainly get wet

Overall a large dousing would hardly be fun

But at least it doesn’t look like rain yet

-

The sun has dimmed and faded down

Though only an hour has passed

The cause is the clouds that have crowded around

Darkening the field oh so fast

At the first sign of rain, I think I will scarper

And head back home where it’s dry

Though I would delight in seeing light at night

Fair weather seems in short supply

-

Though sprinkles and droplets often drop by

I’m surprised to say that I’m mostly dry

With my luck this shade shall pass

So we could enjoy this night on the grass

-

 

The time draws near, one more hour to go

I’ve amused myself by wandering to and fro

To see all to see and learn all to know

As the rate of time seems to slow

Bowling

Though small and uninspiring to the passing eye

There are quite a few lanes in use here

It seems odd to me, because I had believed

The hobby of bowling would disappear

There’s the usual theme here of pins, balls and stars

As they float around across the sky

It seems like the case in this sort of place

Though I really don’t understand why

Get Messy

The third of the three best demonstrates itself

It’s an exercise in jumping straight in

No notice to what the other two started

Because this third part can finally begin

If nothing is ventured, nothing is gained

So find something you want to do

No matter the cost, much more would be lost

If you were to never chase and pursue

All efforts are messes, just messy in forms

That vary based on what they are

Just act on a whim, and give it your all

And I’m sure your efforts will reach far.

Make Mistakes

Perfection’s impossible in anything here

That thought echoes here in my head

Still it is a goal that can often console

A height for all interested

Mistakes will occur, it is an almost certain fact

Where is little about that you can change

The better question is when you fail, how will you react?

Will you move on ahead, or find it strange?

Mistakes can shape the success to come

As long as you pay them due heed

They outline the flaws you may come to find

And point out what exactly you need

As long as you learn from mistakes made in the past

An error’s no such a bad thing

Pick up the shattered pieces of your work today

And look for what tomorrow will bring

Take Chances

This part 1 of three is to be named whimsically

Alone, the title doesn’t make sense

It appears to advocate behavior that’s risky

But this is where a series shall commence

Consider the reserve in which many bind themselves

Choose not to act without assurance of success

Resign themselves to what is known and expected

Choosing not to put luck to the test

If nothing is ventured, nothing is gained

With that in mind, I act without thought

To move ahead recklessly with little reserve

Is how I’ve often found what I sought

Note I caution against running headlong into what lays ahead

Undue haste begets waste after all

I still will proceed with all due speed

Swift joy is worth the pain of a fall

Sunny Day

The sun invites me to sleep for a while

There’s something about those bright skies

That bright yellow glow that can often show

How fatigue can take me by surprise

It’s rather unfortunate how common this occurs

I’d say almost every afternoon

I notice it’s bright, and as if it were night

I feel I will fall asleep soon

The most troubling affair is a question of where

This lethargic response shall occur

Whether I am driving or just simply idling

A simple nap is what I prefer

Alas the time has passed when I could sleep on the grass

On the quad on a warm sunny day

I have much to do, many projects to pursue…

I guess I prefer it this way

Blue

The color blue, a basic shade

The color I choose to favor

An unconscious decision to always choose blue

Is an inherent part of my behavior

I oft wear blue in any weather

I prefer it in any form

Blue shirts and shorts on hot summer days

Blue flannel pants to keep me warm

Blue is the team I prefer to join

Blue text is where I default

And yes it is true, if a load screen is blue

I don’t mind is the progress will halt

A blue shades my dreams, and colors my thoughts

To me, joy is a pale light blue

Eiffel 65 is blue, and I guess I am too

(Though it’s not the same for all in my sight)

My music is blue, with prominent twin tails

And blue oft burns bright on my screen

I’ll always argue for this shade till I’m blue

Though I’m just blue, if you know what I mean

Thoughts

Shall I take you to the place in my mind where dreams come true?

Shall I impart to you all that I once knew?

The journey is simple, yet inexplicably complex

Though it’s all a matter of “What’s next?”

My task is to build a construct of words

Arranged on one another, page by page

And line by line they settle here

Forming the base of this stage

Take this to heart, words all hold some power

Whether written, spoken, or sung

It relies on the mind, for it is thoughts that decide

The direction in which they are flung

I write for no purpose but writing itself

Because this is my earnest belief

The mind makes all inevitably

And expression’s the only relief

Rapping things up

In the past I know I’ve said that I could get inside one’s head

And copy people that I’ve read, and follow paths on which they’ve tread

But suddenly it occurred to me that this ability isn’t empathy

Rather it is a state to emulate, simulate that these people demonstrate

The me that walks around as a fake self can only copy

But I guess that’s the way I live, so that will never truly stop me

I guess I’ll be content to simulate these many faces

And follow walks of life that lead to many places

Even this poem lends itself to different inspiration

Drawing flow from the beat of JReyes’ syncopation

Lending voice with choice to this theme’s incorporation

Taking part in my own literary dedication

Self-censorship

Consider all the words you never say

The words that you know that never come out to play

But even if you never say them, you know them anyway

Because a word once learned will forever stay

Some words I know will never find their way to print

Even if their use would be fresher than mint

Even if I use some words repetitively again once more

There are still some words and phrases I abhor

Some words appear too inelegant and crude

That the use of them is inherently rude

Though the abstaining from epithets may mark me as a prude

The taste of these verses remain a simple, staple food

To prevent a burn at every turn, I bar profanity

And anyway, the spice is nice with just insanity

These words of mine remain divine in taste I often savor

And thus I am content with my own flavor

Invitation

Welcome to this place of illusion

Come now, won’t you have a seat?

After all, if this is to be a dialogue

It needs two people to be complete

A marvel, isn’t it? This place we now sit?

A place that’s built out of words alone

With something there to share with everyone, everywhere

But still a place that’s entirely my own

Though we may sit here on this one common page

I, who shall write, and you, who shall read

From different sides, do we see the same view?

Or do differences change what we perceive?

You’re free to go if you wish, I think I shall stay

And ponder on this for some time

Oh wait, before you go, I’d just like to know

What did you think about this rhyme?

Watch Out

Any common fool can observe time as it passes

But it takes a certain fool to get lost

To lose any sense of when things should be

To let events land wherever they’re tossed

When time seems to stumble and collapse in a jumble

Isn’t it you who ends up in a pile?

To deal with the mess, one’s patience is put to the test

As you sort through affairs for a while

To lose track of days, months, even years

May leave someone’s thoughts out of order

No concept of when or where things occurred

No clearly defined temporal border

I cannot recall at all how things were

I have no idea when memories were made

The passage of time passes time unobserved

And I don’t really care, I’m afraid

Off the Deep End

To dive into stories as if they were pools

To immerse oneself within their depths

Is an occupation for dreamers, for artists, for fools

Who recognized they didn’t look before they leapt

It’s not what you seek, what you think, what you expect

That should convince you to dive recklessly

It is the unknown, untold and unfound

That should tempt you so effortlessly

Just take what you find, and find what to take

In the end, my lesson will serve

Take any strange word as its own reward

A diversion that only you observe

Poem1

This is a poem that’s just a poem

Nothing more, nothing less

Nothing for all to see, nothing its supposed to be

Just a poem that exists for its poem-ness

There’s really no need for meaning here

In the way that I now write this

I write what I can just on a small whim

As for the result… it is what it is

I wonder why? (I wonder)

A thought just occurred to me today

“Why do I write in rhyme?”

I could write thoughts in prose, most certainly

I once did it all the time

Where did those pages of rambling text go?

Structured randomly with no message to send?

Where arguments centered on what I didn’t know,

Formed layers and layers on end?

Why is it now my thoughts lay in four?

Two for two, with a line in between

Why is it that I must search for words,

That both mesh and say what I mean?

This medium I write in, a diary

A container for thoughts one must stow

The words written here are meant to be clear

I guess I’ll just say “I don’t know”

Daydream

Fantasy, reality, extensions of the same class

One feeding off the other and returning values back

And in between the time are global variables that amass

A system of public interchange that makes up what they lack

The dreams of possibilities to events are just the same

For if they were impossible, how could they have a name?

The way that things just are and feel puts all accounts to shame

So consider each bug as just a value you can’t tame

I choose to lapse in dream over what can and can’t exist

But each event that happens here is something never missed

That said, my gaze on fantasy is something that persists

A draw to other worlds and lives I cannot resist

Hy...

Welcome back Hyperbole and a Half

Your presence has sorely been missed

You’ve long been held on a single front page

But my interest in you would persist

While the last joke you posted was comically dark

This one’s darkly amusing to me

The state of mind here is rather severe

That builds in intensity

I know that dark state that chooses to propagate

Into every aspect of one’s mind

I know that shallow despair that there’s nothing there

No illusion of living to find

I recognize that feeling that there isn’t any healing

Some odd cutting wound to your soul

I recognize clearly that all you held dearly

Does nothing to make you feel totally whole

The thing more curious about our ways and our means

Is a difference in goal, I believe

I chose to immerse, take comfort in reverse

While you sought a way to relieve

A devolvement into hysterics will do me no good

I have no qualms about wearing fake faces

To me reality is an illusion itself

That my whims and my will simply replaces

Once again after years, my browser must guess

Between two links with “Hy-”

One reaching for light, one resting in dark

Both moving on, by and by

So may you have luck in fixing yourself

Finding restoration, piece by piece

Myself? Well I am content with my words

And their forms that change till my thoughts cease.