• Friends We Don’t Deserve

    Friends We Don’t Deserve

    There’s something comforting about having a dog on your lap while you type away in front of your computer.

    It’s like having a living, breathing teddy bear. Sometimes I wonder what she’s thinking about. Is she day dreaming? Is she asleep? Any slight movement I make wakes her up, so I can’t really check if it’s the latter but her steady breathing pattern hints at sweet dreams. Do dogs even dream? I’m sure they do. What do they dream about? Freedom?

    And then I start to wonder, does she think about what I’m doing? Does she wonder if it’s trivial or important? Am I saving the world or just typing random shit on a public diary?

    Does she enjoy lying on my lap? Does she enjoy it or find it boring? She’s not complaining – not that I would know if she was unhappy, I can’t speak doggo. I would love to be able to read their minds though. Or understand their barks. I think it would be an amazing ability to have. It could also lead me down a pretty interesting career path. Also, I’d be able to tell stories that dogs want humans to know.

    Do dogs want us to know anything? Maybe not. Why should they care? Why do dogs care so much about people who essentially enslave them for their own selfish purposes? Actually, do we even know if dogs really love humans (I’m almost certain they do) – for all we know, they’re actually the most manipulative creatures in the world, getting us to do their bidding. And people who abuse dogs are actually saving the human race from being overrun by our four-legged friends? Just kidding, I don’t believe that at all. Dogs are our best friends we don’t deserve. So we try our best to make their lives as luxurious as possible.

  • Royalty

    Just a song I wrote a few months ago. Finally finished it and recorded a rough demo on a productive Thursday night. Enjoy

    Royalty

    on your bed you lie like royalty
    in your mind you wish that you were free
    all the luxuries meant for a king
    but are you truly?

    when you trade your air for water
    all our words fall upon deaf ears
    you look forward to be released
    follow the bright light

    watching over you like guardians
    just like statues we wait
    as the waves crash all around us
    behind a glass display

    tethered to a bed, is it living?
    lines on a graph, numbers falling
    your whole being reduced to
    beeps on a machine

    (take my lungs, I didn’t treasure them anyway)

    when you trade your air for water
    all our words fall upon deaf ears
    you look forward to be released
    embrace the darkness

    waiting for the full collapse
    your last dying breath
    we mutter empty words to comfort ourselves

    it’s all up to you now
    it’s time to say goodbye
    we mutter empty words to comfort ourselves

  • Too Young To Die

    “Oh, he/she was so young.”

    What is that supposed to mean?
    Is there an age we’re supposed to die at?

    Is any age ever a good age to die?
    Can someone be too old to die?
    Or is that just the default response for someone to say whenever they find out the age of someone who passed away?

    Isn’t it all relative? What if the person who passed away did everything he/she ever wanted to do before passing away? Would that a good age then?

    What if they didn’t die, and spent the rest of their life accomplishing nothing else. Would they be at a better age to die then?

    If someone was too old, would the correct response be “I guess his/her time was up”?

    There’s no right age to die.
    People just die.

    “I’m sorry to hear that.” is sufficient.

    There’s really no need to add anything else. It doesn’t make people feel any better. Really.