Quotes from Scott C. Holstad

There's this space in our lives that we attempt to fill with more space and the nothingness grows larger while our lives get smaller, a fact we can't seem to accept very well. So, we take walks and we work and we go to movies and basketball games and church and we Exist in our nothing lives and when we die a speech is made and we are forgotten once again, only more permanently this time.

Several patio chairs, a small coffee table and behind them, a blue green pool, sun spotted water within listing side to side. Innocence can be found or lost here in the noonday sun.

i got the fear deep inside. breathing hard, i stumble up the stairs avoiding inquisitive eye contact. the darker you are, the harder you die and they don't never care. i need to rest.

i might go see London After Midnight at Coven 13 tonight i might sit at home and write lousy poems i might play with my cat and then go trick people to death it's a freeze frame happenstance reality of sickness

I'm feeling much better now that I've found my mind.

I lay in bed absorbing fear, collecting strength, enjoying the slumberous sounds of solitude. To perish without love, I think, is a tragedy worth knowing.

They closed the transient 5th Avenue Motel and now where will they go? They came from all over to stay for a night or a month or whatever they could afford, however they can afford it – and now it's gone, broken windows boarded up, chain link fence surrounding it like it's a dog with scurvy. The transient hotel drained pale, pissing in an empty ashtray.

you look your woman in the eye and kill her by telling her the truth or you turn away and let her see what she wants. i try not to shake too much when i turn the lights out and the sobbing begins

I see things differently. Rocks look suspicious to me as do certain hubcaps. Paranoia seeps through my pores, it's just a part of me. Truthfully, I don't know what to say anymore. My body is a piece of art; I don't care about external scars, it's the internal ones I live with and Satan dances towards me.

i'm sleeping next to no one or no thing except the mirror and the only thing i see in the room is the reflection of the person i despise the most

normalcy? an answer to a crossword puzzle question my body bears the strain of a suicide wannabe the look in my eye turns people away humanity frightens so easily that the words bubble to the top of the lobotomized

my chest hurts nearly every day now. people laugh and tell me i have heartburn. some tell me i'm heartbroken or depressed but i've been both and this is neither. yep, this time i think i'm going to bite the big one, keel over, croak and all of that any day now, any hour, any minute, any second, anytime.

as i said her nostrils flared like a white lion, i blinked and she was gone. what one imagines. i dream moldy words. at times she yawned, as i said that, and her nostrils flared most beautifully.

Like long lost love abandoned in forgotten letters, you lose yourself in others and dream their dreams, become their aspirations. When you look in the mirror, you see a black, blank picture of Them staring back and you vow not to, before giving in once again.

she wants to to be loved for a few hours at least. I look away, people need peace. it's raining hard outside; lives are breaking in the storm.

we love and hate with equal madness

when you despise yourself and everyone else in the world, you just give up, say fuck it, and pray the fuckers will accidentally press the big bomb buttons

They gave me killer pills that knocked me on my ass for a few hours at least so I wouldn't have to hear the godawful screaming. I'm exhausted and my blood boils and there's nothing I can do. There was another life that seems so long ago and I try to reconstruct images, events, people, all just dreams tethered to the knife in my soul. This is my cross, my dagger, my napalm, my dance of the dead…

sometimes it's the senseless feelings which overwhelm you, the despair and frustration which build to dangerous levels and the subsequent release, the cigarettes, alcohol, nameless fucks, nights spent in the drunk tank. the cats howling outside the window know this and they act accordingly.

seeing is believing they say and if boundaries are limitless are we? or is existence twofold and doomed before the sights are set and if so does God really weep for humanity and must we continue to seek sustenance through escapism and do sporting events in all their microcosmic glory refute the tenets of nihilism or should we simply accept and wallow in our ignorance unbearable lightness of being creatures who feel what -- I don't know

reality is often little more than a mirror reflecting visions made of ice and steel cold permanent and carefully contrived

shower time, steam rising, going on a caffeine binge – it's not the juice that juices me, it's that taste and the rock and roll blaring evil and gorgeous in the morning darkness

Moods invent the man. I am a creation of turbulence, a rider of an ongoing merry-go-round.

Language doesn't do it justice the body intact yet ready for rebirth The landscape of flowers and secrets left untold