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missing child. |
12.16.2003 |
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there is a war in your head. not a metaphor. you feel it. you smoked a chain of nine cigarettes on a porch swing without realizing it. there is a force pushing you out, and if you try to go in you will most likely lose something. probably everything. you are abandoned. and there is nothing. you regret it the next morning, it was written on the ceiling when you opened your eyes. you spend the day torn. you spend the day waiting.
you know that there are places, geographically, that you cannot go. you know that there are places, mentally, that you cannot go. but you go there because you cannot stand missing something. you know that there should be something out there (a package with magical contents) with your name on it. but as you search your mind is fully aware of its non-existence.
you wish that your memory could be digitally edited. not necessarily so that things could be erased and missing forever, but so that things could be manipulated. you feel heartless, and want surgery to fix it. nothing has to be broken. you throw everything that you have on promises that are made to you a millisecond after being regarded benign, and unintentional by both of you.
you have a futile faith nonetheless. you don't understand that people say things as an escape from you just as you do it yourself. you are seriously having trouble deciphering between what really happened and how you presented it to yourself.
your fear goes unconsoled. your anger goes unextinguished. your patience is juggling knives. your outstretched hand's arm is aching. taking attention away from the rest of your body. your thoughts are diseased and jaundiced. the weather is wretched. yet there is still nothing to talk about.
you are holding on to dreams that entertained your head when you were ten. and they are the last ones that you ever had. and not sure if youll have another, you keep a sliding grip on the neck of those dreams.
you are lost.
and i dont understand you. and whenever you are with me i have trouble breathing. |
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| 10:19 pm |
the kidnap kid said this. |
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| more frequent updates? |
yes, yes, children. we are back! be sure to sign up at the mailing list below to receive notices on phrensick updates.
we will be updating our list shortly to those of you IDIOTS that checked up on the site while we were on an eight-month hiatus! |
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| mailing list! |
sick of visiting phrensick and seein' the same old un-updated site? well, join the mailing list and be alerted to new posts.
go to the contact page... remember to put in your email address... and put "add list" in the body.
god, phrensick's always on the cusp of technology. |
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| POLL |
last night, phrensick polled the current 40-man roster of the MILWAUKEE BREWERS to find out their favorite and least favorite posts.
2003 Milwaukee Brewers favorite post:
XANDER'S "Owimoweh, Owimoweh."
2003 Milwaukee Brewers least favorite post:
SUI GENERIS'S "Popcorn Carts."
(poll was taken of the seven players that returned their questionnaires) |
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| response to POLL |
all i have to say to the milwaukee brewers: sarcasm and base hits... who would've guessed the brew crew couldn't get either?
~sui generis |
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