Paperclips.

"I want to shoot technology in the face."

[laughs] In the face?

"In it's stupid, smug...

Cyclical?

"...smug, cyclical face."

You realize you'd be shooting it with technology.

"No I wouldn't. I'd shoot it with fire."

So you want to shoot Technology in it's smug, cyclical face with fire.

"Yes. I hate it."

Exhale, These Static Romances

This moonlit chill in my chest fills my head with doubts and my breath with fog. All of these broken playgrounds of swing-set hearts... it’s all just... rusted. Everyone’s made of recycled air.

Every girl is a fallen star collection; a pixie, imperfect. Warm hearts and frozen fingers are the order of the evening - every evening - until 5:47 a.m., when heavy lids take the place of weary souls and emotion invincible. The most important moments that govern our lives always seem to take place in our absence. And that itself fuels our fear of slumber.

So much can be lost through gallons of apathy and yet so much can be avoided: White knuckles and crumbling plaster, living quick and dying faster. We’re all just static romances. With fluorescent hums in place of hopes, replacing dreams...colliding perpetually in cathode rays of light, being watched by someone else; Someone far grander than we can conceive.

He must be watching - but laughing -at all this poetic numbness.

-HKR

Oh, deer.

This person votes. And breeds.

All.

Obama vs. Romney: Rap Battle, Yo.

This should be shown just before tomorrow night's debate.

The Hackling.

Everything is on and ready.

Shields are up.

Walls are in.

Ignition in. 

The vengeful redzone has been lit.

The aim is dead center.

Locked and loaded.

Finger on the trigger.

Ready for the Hadron collision.

Ready for true fairness.

Lie, twist, kill, love or grow?

The game begins.

Your move. 

Her move.

 ...

Play to win.

The Mayonnaise Jar and the Two Beers.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full.. The students responded with a unanimous 'yes.'

The professor then produced two Beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.The students laughed..

"Now," said the professor as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things - your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions - and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car... The sand is everything else: the small stuff.

"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you."

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

-HKR

Less than four.

There's not much left you can say when you're soul is no longer whole. You can find esoteric words to use, but none of them hold meaning or can come close to accurately defining the depths of you.

Some people are drawn to brilliance and will chase it endlessly; like a naive moth fluttering around life's porch light in a futile attempt to catch... something. Who knows? Its own agenda.

Other people respond to bitterness, and will only react to the negative in life. They crave friction. The good things may be cautiously accepted, but it's the dark that truly stirs their mental tanks. And then they wonder why it keeps reoccurring, never realizing that just by reacting to the negative, it positively reinforces the cycle.

I'm broken. But, like a boulder that's been obliterated by dynamite, I still exist, even if half of me has disappeared into dust. The rest of me resides in little pieces - never to be whole again - for everyone who knows me to pick up their own special fragment of what I mean to them. No one I know in my life has ever seen me whole, but everyone's got a piece of me in their pocket to keep. They freely take it with them via memories, and I freely let them have it.

But not you...

I wanted you to see me put together again. I wanted to be whole with you. To be something - someone - you could lean on. To give you shade during those especially tough days. To protect you when you needed someone to hide behind. To stand on when you wanted a better view of the world. And to always be there when you needed me, and you would always know where to look and find me.

But you just stood and lit another fuse.

And walked away.

-HKR