I knew you were trouble, all I wanted was someone to call honey. I'd do it all over again, much like our echos wrap around each other, marking lips with bite marks, a kiss that turned your song. I still dream about you, and though it bothers me I'm glad you are still about, even if I only see your ethereal self.
Short stories, poems, among other play things. A constant work in progress. Forever changing.
16 December 2011
14 December 2011
Dream escapes with sudden stops
Bad dreams are determined by the dreamer. Only certain people make my skin crawl, and girl you do that just right in all the wrong ways that I like. I don't know why you haunt me, but I certainly understand why I stay away.
26 November 2011
24 November 2011
I've heard this a few times this week
If you don't have any enemies, you are doing something wrong.
Right on.
Right on.
21 November 2011
This is my multi-pass.
It's another weekend
she's already called
"my mom is taking me over
be there soon."
He waits in his bed,
under the covers.
It's been cold out lately
and he didn't sleep very well.
A few minutes pass by before she's there
he hears her say hello to his family
and walks over to his room.
The door opens,
she enters and closes it behind her.
A tight fitting shirt outlines her figure
thin yet curvy
her breasts perky with youth
baggy jeans
which soon come off before she makes her way to him
long slender legs
smooth to the touch and very kind to the eye
she's white like snow
and he likes that.
She comes into his bed
kisses him
caress him
"I missed you."
they kiss
and pop The 5th Element into the VCR.
Her bosom presses against him
her hand running up and down his chest
one leg over his pressing on his thigh
her lips slightly part as their saliva mixes.
His fingers feel the contours of her hips
the texture of her underwear
as his other hand touches her back
and pulls her closer to him.
She rips her top off
and he his
their bodies scream in ecstasy
as bare skin touches bare skin
and they press hard against each other
trying to break that point where the one ends
and the other begins
making way into one another
ending the separation of time and space.
Interchanging tactile sensations
eyes closed
eyes open
the smell of her hair
her skin
his sweat
their kink.
She jumps atop him and pushes him down
they stare into each others eyes and smile
just as her hips grind back and fro
she positions him just
so he presses between her lips.
They wear one last layer each
to keep themselves at bay.
He pulls her down by the neck
and kisses her hard
he then rolls her on her back
kissing her neck
kissing her chest
stomach and thighs.
Her smell drives him near insanity
he kisses her thighs and bit by bit
slowly makes his way to her last layer.
He bites onto the edges of her silky underwear
pulls it down with several jerking motions
like an animal tearing at bare flesh
preparing to enjoy a savory meal.
With his bare hands he pulls off her underwear
silk up over his head her legs now lay on his shoulders
just so she arches her back and pulls him in with her legs
a smirk over her face she pinches her nipples tight
his face now buried in her cunt
he can taste her
smell her
feel her
she is everything
his thirst is quenched by her love
her body starts to flush
just as he uses his hands on her hips
to keep her rhythm with his.
He smears her all over his face,
then kisses her belly
breasts
neck
just as he gets to eye level
she licks his lips
savoring herself
then kissing him.
She takes his underwear off
stroking him as she kisses his lips
then taking him into her mouth
soft tongue
soft hair touching his thighs
she lays on her side
with her legs open to him
his fingers caress
her soft petals melting in his fingers.
When she has him as hard as she wants him
she straddles him
uses one of her hands to take him into her
as the other keeps her balance.
He feels her warmth as he penetrates her
everything wavers as reality condenses into this.
Time stops,
space implodes.
She arches down to him and they kiss
bodies are now intermingled
they both push hard against one another
so much so they can hear their hair grinding.
There are explosions in the background
as Korben Dallas destroys alien scum.
Her hair hangs over his face
her eyes shut close
and her body falls limp on top of him.
He bites her neck as she whimpers
grabbing her ass with his hands
to gain leverage over her.
She scratches his chest
emitting a moan that makes him go deeper
harder
squeezing his hands over her flesh.
He then takes her head with one hand
and starts to kiss her lips
feeling his cock get really hard
his balls are now squeezing
both bodies are quivering in orgasm
his moans intensify hers
as he unloads himself deep inside her womb.
They both now lay in bed,
breathing heavily
watching as Lilu Dallas is asking Korben
"What is love?"
They both look at each other and he says
"This, this is love."
"Show me." Says Lilu.
"Show her.." Says the priest.
And so he kisses her.
Looking at each other
hearts beating hard
they kiss softly
between puffs from their cigarettes
smiles and caresses.
Her leg over his
as her soaking cunt drips down on them
she leans into his ear and in between nibbles whispers
"again."
she's already called
"my mom is taking me over
be there soon."
He waits in his bed,
under the covers.
It's been cold out lately
and he didn't sleep very well.
A few minutes pass by before she's there
he hears her say hello to his family
and walks over to his room.
The door opens,
she enters and closes it behind her.
A tight fitting shirt outlines her figure
thin yet curvy
her breasts perky with youth
baggy jeans
which soon come off before she makes her way to him
long slender legs
smooth to the touch and very kind to the eye
she's white like snow
and he likes that.
She comes into his bed
kisses him
caress him
"I missed you."
they kiss
and pop The 5th Element into the VCR.
Her bosom presses against him
her hand running up and down his chest
one leg over his pressing on his thigh
her lips slightly part as their saliva mixes.
His fingers feel the contours of her hips
the texture of her underwear
as his other hand touches her back
and pulls her closer to him.
She rips her top off
and he his
their bodies scream in ecstasy
as bare skin touches bare skin
and they press hard against each other
trying to break that point where the one ends
and the other begins
making way into one another
ending the separation of time and space.
Interchanging tactile sensations
eyes closed
eyes open
the smell of her hair
her skin
his sweat
their kink.
She jumps atop him and pushes him down
they stare into each others eyes and smile
just as her hips grind back and fro
she positions him just
so he presses between her lips.
They wear one last layer each
to keep themselves at bay.
He pulls her down by the neck
and kisses her hard
he then rolls her on her back
kissing her neck
kissing her chest
stomach and thighs.
Her smell drives him near insanity
he kisses her thighs and bit by bit
slowly makes his way to her last layer.
He bites onto the edges of her silky underwear
pulls it down with several jerking motions
like an animal tearing at bare flesh
preparing to enjoy a savory meal.
With his bare hands he pulls off her underwear
silk up over his head her legs now lay on his shoulders
just so she arches her back and pulls him in with her legs
a smirk over her face she pinches her nipples tight
his face now buried in her cunt
he can taste her
smell her
feel her
she is everything
his thirst is quenched by her love
her body starts to flush
just as he uses his hands on her hips
to keep her rhythm with his.
He smears her all over his face,
then kisses her belly
breasts
neck
just as he gets to eye level
she licks his lips
savoring herself
then kissing him.
She takes his underwear off
stroking him as she kisses his lips
then taking him into her mouth
soft tongue
soft hair touching his thighs
she lays on her side
with her legs open to him
his fingers caress
her soft petals melting in his fingers.
When she has him as hard as she wants him
she straddles him
uses one of her hands to take him into her
as the other keeps her balance.
He feels her warmth as he penetrates her
everything wavers as reality condenses into this.
Time stops,
space implodes.
She arches down to him and they kiss
bodies are now intermingled
they both push hard against one another
so much so they can hear their hair grinding.
There are explosions in the background
as Korben Dallas destroys alien scum.
Her hair hangs over his face
her eyes shut close
and her body falls limp on top of him.
He bites her neck as she whimpers
grabbing her ass with his hands
to gain leverage over her.
She scratches his chest
emitting a moan that makes him go deeper
harder
squeezing his hands over her flesh.
He then takes her head with one hand
and starts to kiss her lips
feeling his cock get really hard
his balls are now squeezing
both bodies are quivering in orgasm
his moans intensify hers
as he unloads himself deep inside her womb.
They both now lay in bed,
breathing heavily
watching as Lilu Dallas is asking Korben
"What is love?"
They both look at each other and he says
"This, this is love."
"Show me." Says Lilu.
"Show her.." Says the priest.
And so he kisses her.
Looking at each other
hearts beating hard
they kiss softly
between puffs from their cigarettes
smiles and caresses.
Her leg over his
as her soaking cunt drips down on them
she leans into his ear and in between nibbles whispers
"again."
The Cradle is Broken
He's thirteen years old
ridding his pedal bike full speed
wind rushes through his hair
tears brushed away from his face
by the soothing and cool breeze.
There is nothing to be sad about
this is just his first taste of a series of events
all meant to break him
to bring him down
to make the romantic into a monster
much like Jekyll and Hyde.
It's always been about love
the nurturing
giving
and willingness to expose the self
giving another a loaded gun
aptly pointed at his chest.
Hammer cocked back
her fingers on his trigger.
It's always been the same.
There is something to be said
about a man who is willing to be hurt
about a woman who is willing to listen
and about situations which spin out of control
only to be forgotten.
One foot pushes down as another rises
the wheels spin around
quicker
faster
he just wants to forget
about her kiss
her caress.
"It was a mistake!" she says.
But it wouldn't be the first time.
This would be repeated again,
twice more with her alone.
How could he trust her?
Love makes you blind.
Tires screech to a halt as he crosses a road
horns blare
an old tired man screams
but if he only knew he'd yell
"Pedal on! FASTER! F A S T E R!"
because we've all been there.
With every pump of his heart
it seems like his chest is about to explode.
Blood runs thick through his veins
flushing his youthful face with life.
"Maybe you were my mistake." He says to her.
But he'll never mean it
he'll always love her
much like the women
who unknowingly
or willingly
pulled the trigger.
ridding his pedal bike full speed
wind rushes through his hair
tears brushed away from his face
by the soothing and cool breeze.
There is nothing to be sad about
this is just his first taste of a series of events
all meant to break him
to bring him down
to make the romantic into a monster
much like Jekyll and Hyde.
It's always been about love
the nurturing
giving
and willingness to expose the self
giving another a loaded gun
aptly pointed at his chest.
Hammer cocked back
her fingers on his trigger.
It's always been the same.
There is something to be said
about a man who is willing to be hurt
about a woman who is willing to listen
and about situations which spin out of control
only to be forgotten.
One foot pushes down as another rises
the wheels spin around
quicker
faster
he just wants to forget
about her kiss
her caress.
"It was a mistake!" she says.
But it wouldn't be the first time.
This would be repeated again,
twice more with her alone.
How could he trust her?
Love makes you blind.
Tires screech to a halt as he crosses a road
horns blare
an old tired man screams
but if he only knew he'd yell
"Pedal on! FASTER! F A S T E R!"
because we've all been there.
With every pump of his heart
it seems like his chest is about to explode.
Blood runs thick through his veins
flushing his youthful face with life.
"Maybe you were my mistake." He says to her.
But he'll never mean it
he'll always love her
much like the women
who unknowingly
or willingly
pulled the trigger.
13 November 2011
12 November 2011
Moving on (the other side)
One important thing I've learned from venting via my writing is that everything changes. The way you feel changes like the seasons, anger is subdued by time and it sleeps a deep sleep. Dissolution is washed away by the rain of forgetfulness and disambiguation. Lessons learned are all stored away for easy access, but shouldn't keep anyone from making contact with others. Life moves on, and so should the self.
Though one thing will always stick like crazy glue. No matter how hard I try, I have never been able to wash it away. It's always left a stain so thick, so bright, that not even a monsoon of experience could ever get rid of it. Love.
Things done because of Love, angry letters, long diatribes, isolation, obsession, they all seem so morose and entail a sickness which I've only just truly uncovered. It is dangerous, yet it is accompanied by beautiful experiences and emotions. One must truly be careful as it is a loaded gun and thus must be treated as such. Only use it when you absolutely need to, and there is no other way out. Build a wall? Yes, but only to see who is willing to break it down.
This is something I've learned. I hope to do some introspective writing soon, as someone once asked on a comment somewhere else "what about you?" Well, that is all to come with due time. I think I know what I did, why I found myself sick with emotion, and the only way to truly understand it and work it out for me will be to put down on writing. Will I be exposing my soft underbelly? Yes and no, because that person is no more, but I do wish to understand why I did what I did, everything else is kind of meaningless, as I will never be able to speak to that person I once loved, or understand their reasons for being as they were.
Kind of like my dream
Standing behind a glass
she's on the other side
on crutches
broken foot
I slam the thick glass doors
scream under water
but she will not listen
cannot hear
ignores me
and the world turns black
as my lungs fill with fluid.
I am dead to you, and I understand that now.
Though one thing will always stick like crazy glue. No matter how hard I try, I have never been able to wash it away. It's always left a stain so thick, so bright, that not even a monsoon of experience could ever get rid of it. Love.
Things done because of Love, angry letters, long diatribes, isolation, obsession, they all seem so morose and entail a sickness which I've only just truly uncovered. It is dangerous, yet it is accompanied by beautiful experiences and emotions. One must truly be careful as it is a loaded gun and thus must be treated as such. Only use it when you absolutely need to, and there is no other way out. Build a wall? Yes, but only to see who is willing to break it down.
This is something I've learned. I hope to do some introspective writing soon, as someone once asked on a comment somewhere else "what about you?" Well, that is all to come with due time. I think I know what I did, why I found myself sick with emotion, and the only way to truly understand it and work it out for me will be to put down on writing. Will I be exposing my soft underbelly? Yes and no, because that person is no more, but I do wish to understand why I did what I did, everything else is kind of meaningless, as I will never be able to speak to that person I once loved, or understand their reasons for being as they were.
Kind of like my dream
Standing behind a glass
she's on the other side
on crutches
broken foot
I slam the thick glass doors
scream under water
but she will not listen
cannot hear
ignores me
and the world turns black
as my lungs fill with fluid.
I am dead to you, and I understand that now.
08 November 2011
04 November 2011
Here's a Thought
As soon as your born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still fucking peasents as far as I can see,
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill,
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
Music and lyrics by John Lennon.
03 November 2011
Cream Pie Party Flavors.
can you dig it?
the cold weather is coming
it's time the birds get a flocking
down south
so keep your tents up
your hearts open
most of all
keep our revolution revolting
to get all of the past sickness out
it's time for winter
a cooling
a calm
we must shake ourselves awake
keep from falling asleep
'cos once we close our eyes
it's too late
don't you see we'll freeze
it's our calm
that should worry them
it's our silence they will hear
only one thing to watch out for
is the quickness of their surrender
how different
yet the same
we turn out to be in the end
the cold weather is coming
it's time the birds get a flocking
down south
so keep your tents up
your hearts open
most of all
keep our revolution revolting
to get all of the past sickness out
it's time for winter
a cooling
a calm
we must shake ourselves awake
keep from falling asleep
'cos once we close our eyes
it's too late
don't you see we'll freeze
it's our calm
that should worry them
it's our silence they will hear
only one thing to watch out for
is the quickness of their surrender
how different
yet the same
we turn out to be in the end
02 November 2011
January 16th 2010 (A series of thoughts, some borrowed mostly original).
This is a series of thoughts from my FB page updates. Most are originals, some are borrowed and have twisted into my own words.
Forget your valuable face, the grave never took MasterCard anyway.
I smoke my cigarettes, burning the tips of my fingers as I get to the end. Story of my life.
I would love to catch a meteor shower in the reflection of your eyes. I could watch the whole world end, and not care, as long as it's next to you.
How lovely, all of the flowers withered to nothing. I guess it's just the seasons changing, new things re aranging themselves into a better tomorrow.
And so the ones who have sown their eyes shut ask the rest of the world to open theirs.
Don't feel bad, it happens to everyone else at one point or another.
Good-bye sour girl. It was nice knowing you.
Like · · September 24, 2010 at 2:48am
There is no such thing as peace and quiet, and if there is, it has yet to introduce itself to me.
The past is something you can never get away from. You can only accept it, and move on. Otherwise, I can guarantee it will eat you up, and leave you in the gutter.
Out of my mind, be back around nine. Don't let yourself get lost in confusion and scorn, it's easier to dance than it is to fight with your fists. After all, we all like to pretend we exist.
Sometimes I wish I had never encountered such things in life, but I guess I should be thankful for knowing of all the should and shouldn't do's.
I miss so many things, most of them haven't even happened yet. +,+
Late nights are always the best, when you have good people to share them with.
Theres no place like no place at all.
Don't trust everything you see
I hate missing someone who doesn't deserve the time of day... grrrr...
Go flash dollar signs, they come a flocking. got nothing to hide the holes in my pocket, but at least my hands are clean.
Random acts of kindness. Do it, be blown away.
Always manages to screw a good thing up.
Has had doubts, but they seem to clear themselves up.
Love your art, and your art will love you. Whatever happens in between is just a beautiful mistake.
It's nice to know that my cats will always love me. As long as I keep feeding them.
There's nothing like a good bullshit session
Fuck your noise, theres better things to worry about.
No matter how many times you run that same old road, you never get tired. something about the chase, that inspires you to continue until much too late you get it, it was all about the chase and the only thing that expires is you.
It's funny when the kids who preach liberty are the first to kill them. ;)
Don't ask what your Country can do for you, but what your Country can do with you.
Life is short, appreciate the ones you've got.
I don't fancy liars, any type, any kind, you are just wretched and mark yourselves for abortion.
Truth is best seen through the eyes, in the expression within someones eyes, the curl of a lip, the loss of their glow.
You can never truly expect others to treat you as you treat them, but it shouldn't deter you from being a decent human being. After all, it's about making the world a better place for yourself and yours, others just rejoice from it vicariously or by proxy.
The moment your realize that you've been somewhere too long, and you need to get out like a bat out of hell.
Why are you my enemy oh morning.
When life gives you lemons, punt those fuckers into the next assholes eyes and hope you break something.
Forget your valuable face, the grave never took MasterCard anyway.
I smoke my cigarettes, burning the tips of my fingers as I get to the end. Story of my life.
I would love to catch a meteor shower in the reflection of your eyes. I could watch the whole world end, and not care, as long as it's next to you.
How lovely, all of the flowers withered to nothing. I guess it's just the seasons changing, new things re aranging themselves into a better tomorrow.
And so the ones who have sown their eyes shut ask the rest of the world to open theirs.
Don't feel bad, it happens to everyone else at one point or another.
Good-bye sour girl. It was nice knowing you.
Like · · September 24, 2010 at 2:48am
There is no such thing as peace and quiet, and if there is, it has yet to introduce itself to me.
The past is something you can never get away from. You can only accept it, and move on. Otherwise, I can guarantee it will eat you up, and leave you in the gutter.
Out of my mind, be back around nine. Don't let yourself get lost in confusion and scorn, it's easier to dance than it is to fight with your fists. After all, we all like to pretend we exist.
Sometimes I wish I had never encountered such things in life, but I guess I should be thankful for knowing of all the should and shouldn't do's.
I miss so many things, most of them haven't even happened yet. +,+
Late nights are always the best, when you have good people to share them with.
Theres no place like no place at all.
Don't trust everything you see
I hate missing someone who doesn't deserve the time of day... grrrr...
Go flash dollar signs, they come a flocking. got nothing to hide the holes in my pocket, but at least my hands are clean.
Random acts of kindness. Do it, be blown away.
Always manages to screw a good thing up.
Has had doubts, but they seem to clear themselves up.
Love your art, and your art will love you. Whatever happens in between is just a beautiful mistake.
It's nice to know that my cats will always love me. As long as I keep feeding them.
There's nothing like a good bullshit session
Fuck your noise, theres better things to worry about.
No matter how many times you run that same old road, you never get tired. something about the chase, that inspires you to continue until much too late you get it, it was all about the chase and the only thing that expires is you.
It's funny when the kids who preach liberty are the first to kill them. ;)
Don't ask what your Country can do for you, but what your Country can do with you.
Life is short, appreciate the ones you've got.
I don't fancy liars, any type, any kind, you are just wretched and mark yourselves for abortion.
Truth is best seen through the eyes, in the expression within someones eyes, the curl of a lip, the loss of their glow.
You can never truly expect others to treat you as you treat them, but it shouldn't deter you from being a decent human being. After all, it's about making the world a better place for yourself and yours, others just rejoice from it vicariously or by proxy.
The moment your realize that you've been somewhere too long, and you need to get out like a bat out of hell.
Why are you my enemy oh morning.
When life gives you lemons, punt those fuckers into the next assholes eyes and hope you break something.
31 October 2011
Something to Think About
It would be easier to forget you if only I hadn't learned so many important things from you.
28 October 2011
Sueños
I keep living dreams I've had months ago. Little snip-its often become reality. I don't know what to make of it, and it kind of freaks me out.
24 October 2011
Dream Ridden Wanderlust.
In the arms of sleep
dreams of you haunt
reminding the heart
of the loss that's been had.
Running through the crowded streets
wearing ballerina shoes
tripping over mud puddles
climbing up a green hill
all to reach you.
Open doors to an apartment
seemed like a 2 bedroom one bath
with a cozy little kitchen
center table with a bayonet
and some couches to rest tired bones.
No one is there,
am I too late?
Ringing at the door
open it to find you
in white
arm to arm with a stranger
and all I hear is:
"What did you expect?
Did you really think
that anything could come
from what we had?"
Like everything we lived
was a meaningless stage
like being there with you
wanting to kiss you everywhere
was a meaningless moment.
When they all hid
under the umbrella in the house
the plot was seeping thick
good-bye's were being concocted
so I donned my Ballerina shoes.
In the rain
everything feels easy
loving,
crying,
breathing.
But when she say's
"What did you expect?"
its' amorous drumming on the window pane
turns into a hollow void
drowning a smile
just so happy to see her.
Sorry to bother you
I guess.
Might as well hide
the distaste of my chastity
all in the hopes
that a heart bruised
and aching
may one day be able
to take a hit
from the shadow boxer yet again.
dreams of you haunt
reminding the heart
of the loss that's been had.
Running through the crowded streets
wearing ballerina shoes
tripping over mud puddles
climbing up a green hill
all to reach you.
Open doors to an apartment
seemed like a 2 bedroom one bath
with a cozy little kitchen
center table with a bayonet
and some couches to rest tired bones.
No one is there,
am I too late?
Ringing at the door
open it to find you
in white
arm to arm with a stranger
and all I hear is:
"What did you expect?
Did you really think
that anything could come
from what we had?"
Like everything we lived
was a meaningless stage
like being there with you
wanting to kiss you everywhere
was a meaningless moment.
When they all hid
under the umbrella in the house
the plot was seeping thick
good-bye's were being concocted
so I donned my Ballerina shoes.
In the rain
everything feels easy
loving,
crying,
breathing.
But when she say's
"What did you expect?"
its' amorous drumming on the window pane
turns into a hollow void
drowning a smile
just so happy to see her.
Sorry to bother you
I guess.
Might as well hide
the distaste of my chastity
all in the hopes
that a heart bruised
and aching
may one day be able
to take a hit
from the shadow boxer yet again.
Rainbow and Occupy Wall Street
One of the best things about Occupy Wall Street is seeing how a mass of random individuals can work together. I have seen it in smaller scale, at local Rainbow Gatherings (Occala, Fl.). This being some of the best times I ever spent anywhere, just being part of a small community even if for a few days. So far I've read of free kitchens, the "mic check" is something I ran into at Rainbow as well, and nick@nite is most definitely from Rainbow. I'm sure that there are other things which I haven't seen, but it's nice to know that there are fellow Children of the Rainbow out there doing what needs to be done to get things kick started. Rainbow will keep things going as long as everyone else is up to it. We are wise on keeping an area with clean water, food, and cigarettes. This is truly what is done by Rainbow.
I wonder if there is an A camp as well. LOLOLOLOL!
Either way, a lot of the behaviors observed from the videos alone give light that the children of light have their hands in this cookie jar, I just hope they washed them first (LOL Loving You!).
I wonder if there is an A camp as well. LOLOLOLOL!
Either way, a lot of the behaviors observed from the videos alone give light that the children of light have their hands in this cookie jar, I just hope they washed them first (LOL Loving You!).
30 September 2011
Davids Camera Craft
Davids Camera Craft
Here are some good photos from the current and ongoing protests in New York's Occupy Wall Street. Please pass this one to anyone, and everyone. It would be much appreciated.
Here are some good photos from the current and ongoing protests in New York's Occupy Wall Street. Please pass this one to anyone, and everyone. It would be much appreciated.
25 September 2011
Correctional facility
I come prepared to bare bad news
to incite myself into a state of joy
and induce the sadness into glee
for no one knows my nightmares like me.
Awake I lay in a bed so cold
with pillows lining where you once lay
to keep me from rolling off
and hitting myself atop my head.
Is it just me? Or are there more
who wish the world would stop and go
that yesterday could be relived
redone, re-spoke, reposed.
I grow so tired of the memories
but it's the only thing that is left
only thing I have to share
only bit's of life I care to remember.
to incite myself into a state of joy
and induce the sadness into glee
for no one knows my nightmares like me.
Awake I lay in a bed so cold
with pillows lining where you once lay
to keep me from rolling off
and hitting myself atop my head.
Is it just me? Or are there more
who wish the world would stop and go
that yesterday could be relived
redone, re-spoke, reposed.
I grow so tired of the memories
but it's the only thing that is left
only thing I have to share
only bit's of life I care to remember.
Fears
Something inside keeps reminding me of you, and I wish I could just kill it. I've tried drowning it, numbing it, forgetting it, but every time it beats from a stillness so deep it brings me to a green glowing hill where a kiss and a hug meant the world, and a random act of unmentionable kindness dared us to frolic all night.
If anyone ever reads this take a piece of advice into consideration: Don't give your heart to anyone, because they will keep it, steal it, abuse it, and throw it into a food processor to relish on your pain. It's safer to keep those things hidden, locked away. Nothing good ever comes from being open and true to someone who you aren't sure about, nothing but heart ache and eventual emotional disembowelment. It's best to keep your feelings to yourself, the wretched world will surely use it against you.
If anyone ever reads this take a piece of advice into consideration: Don't give your heart to anyone, because they will keep it, steal it, abuse it, and throw it into a food processor to relish on your pain. It's safer to keep those things hidden, locked away. Nothing good ever comes from being open and true to someone who you aren't sure about, nothing but heart ache and eventual emotional disembowelment. It's best to keep your feelings to yourself, the wretched world will surely use it against you.
Corruption
I don't hate you,
I hate me.
I don't miss you,
I miss me.
I never dared to,
but you dared me.
I correct you,
yet I ignore me.
I hate me.
I don't miss you,
I miss me.
I never dared to,
but you dared me.
I correct you,
yet I ignore me.
22 August 2011
A Constant
There's an itching in my veins,
a sudden lynching in my brain.
A burning in my heart
a loss and disarray.
Coming out to meet my friends
hidden all within the led
hot and pouring through
it's the itching in my veins.
Can you see the nimble way
in which we run away
can you feel the dire needs
often lost inside your head.
Out there beyond the way
we find them lost and bare
coming out of the woodwork
like maggots in her brain.
Complete with a how to
on loosing all your friends,
you can see there is no room for two
it's the last chance we had to bare.
Complete with a how to
on gaining all your weight
it's easy to say that you
would always be there.
There's an itching in my veins
and itching in my head.
There's loss of everything,
a cross of shades and stares.
Complete with your own how to
on creeping out the mare
it's not easy to stay true
when your soul is lost
a stray.
a sudden lynching in my brain.
A burning in my heart
a loss and disarray.
Coming out to meet my friends
hidden all within the led
hot and pouring through
it's the itching in my veins.
Can you see the nimble way
in which we run away
can you feel the dire needs
often lost inside your head.
Out there beyond the way
we find them lost and bare
coming out of the woodwork
like maggots in her brain.
Complete with a how to
on loosing all your friends,
you can see there is no room for two
it's the last chance we had to bare.
Complete with a how to
on gaining all your weight
it's easy to say that you
would always be there.
There's an itching in my veins
and itching in my head.
There's loss of everything,
a cross of shades and stares.
Complete with your own how to
on creeping out the mare
it's not easy to stay true
when your soul is lost
a stray.
21 August 2011
The Money Pit
It's all about having a good foundation. It's why I am the way I am with people, why I like to take things slow, why I like to know you. Why I take life slowly. It's all in the foundation.
20 August 2011
Sleepless nights
Can't sleep. I feel tired, yet when I lay down my mind awakens with thought. I can't shake her stink out of my memory, one thinks it's over and that moving on is at hand, but there is nothing there but more memories and realizations of the things that happened between us. Who thought that such short time of interaction would leave such a mark. I hate it, and it makes me realized that I loved you.
06 August 2011
Expulsion, delusion.
Maybe I've said this before,
I can't remember you that well anymore.
Your smile is a fuzz,
your eyes I don't even recall the color of,
the little things that you did
which entranced me so are memories left behind.
I feel like the fever has passed,
I've sweated you out.
Oh dear lover,
who I once pined over
contemplated loving forever with no second thoughts,
you have been expunged from me.
Now all that is left is a void.
I don't know how to explain it,
but you've gone
left a cavity behind
there is nothing that fits that obtuse shape
like that love that I felt
which was cursed from the begin
because I was unsure of what to say
unsure if you wanted it or not.
It all fell apart,
now we are but fading memories
yet all I wanted all along
was to be someone you couldn't forget
someone to fill my heart
someone to be entranced with.
I can't remember you that well anymore.
Your smile is a fuzz,
your eyes I don't even recall the color of,
the little things that you did
which entranced me so are memories left behind.
I feel like the fever has passed,
I've sweated you out.
Oh dear lover,
who I once pined over
contemplated loving forever with no second thoughts,
you have been expunged from me.
Now all that is left is a void.
I don't know how to explain it,
but you've gone
left a cavity behind
there is nothing that fits that obtuse shape
like that love that I felt
which was cursed from the begin
because I was unsure of what to say
unsure if you wanted it or not.
It all fell apart,
now we are but fading memories
yet all I wanted all along
was to be someone you couldn't forget
someone to fill my heart
someone to be entranced with.
31 July 2011
Amber Stains
Long slender fingers caress the metal shaft, it's cool surface slowly warms up with the touch of the body. Well manicured nails, no dirt underneath, cuticles pushed back,a clear coat of nail polish, all make every movement seem so well thought and placed as if they'd done this a thousand times before. They open up a small baggie laying next to her kit, just a dash is poured onto the bent spoon. Those slender fingers now screw the needle onto the metal shaft, the surgical steel that once felt so alien, now feels inviting and welcoming, the mind travels back to an amniotic past where nothing seemed like it was, you could say everything was rosy.
With one pull of the plunger, a bit of water is sucked in. It is then meticulously poured onto the pink/brown powder in her spoon. One hand carefully holds the spoon now, while the other uses a lighter underneath it. It bubbles after a short time, after which she uses the needle to mix it in. Once the consistency seems proper, she pulls on the plunger to suck in all of the amniotic fluid from the spoon into the syringes' shaft. Now she can relax, as the hardest part is over and done with. Putting away all of her tools, she leaves out only the rubber tourniquet and syringe.
She walks to the kitchen for a drink of water, the glasses are just above the dish washer, there's a bottle of Perrier inside the fridge which she keeps stocked with tequila and beer. She serves herself a cup and sips at it slowly. On her way back to the bedroom she stops at her iMac where she turns on some music to lead her on her little journey. She first has to minimize the report she's been working on, not many people are able to understand the happenings of third world villages much less actualize a plan to keep a grand majority of them fed. Though she'd had enough of that for today, now it was time to forget about everything.
Music starts up slow, it's a mix of tunes ranging from The Velvet Underground to Devendra Banhart.
Now in her bedroom her slender fingers grab onto the rubber tourniquet as they wrap the loose rubber around her left upper arm and tighten it up, teeth holding on to loose pieces keeping a tight bind. Arm outstretched she slaps the inside of her elbow to pop out the veins. Once they are out well enough she grabs her syringe. At first she breaths in slow and heavy getting the syringe positioned just right. Her mouth waters as a thousand thoughts start to pour through her head of all the men that have been there but left, of the children she's had to hold in her arms to console from their hunger, from their sickness. Her co-workers who are still out there fighting the good fight, fighting for the less fortunate, of the ones who have died for the cause. She pulls on the plunger to make sure she's in the vein, the amber red liquid spurts into the chamber of her syringe. Red viscous blood which she can now see through a small glass window on the side slowly mixes in with her heroin concoction, creating a beautiful spiral of herself and the soon to be amniotic escape. She pushes the plunger in, a slow steady flow.
At first she feels little, her head is still swimming with memories, of the faces, the lovers, the people she's left behind. Everything encumbers her so, but it will all be forgotten soon enough. Pulling out the needle, and releasing the tourniquet, a warm rush goes straight to her head. A numbing feeling in the back of her skull, a tingling, spreading a warmth over her entire body. She puts the now empty chamber on her night table, as soon as it's metal body clinks against the wooden surface so does she collapse onto her bed. Blonde hair spread out around her head like a halo. White slender figure against her dark sheets accentuates the curves of her body. Now her mind is blank, there is nothing going on that could ever stop her from feeling this way. Her body gives itself fully to the heroin which makes it's way and embeds itself onto her brain. Opioid receptors light up as her own thoughts and emotions are shut down.
Nothing matters, everything is meaningless. Only thing that's real right now is this feeling like being on the clouds. Her high makes everything ok. She's not thinking about the children, about the faces of the damned. Her only thought is "God I wish I could get fucked right now." One hand reaches into her pants, she feels her wet pussy, soaking her slender fingers as she feels herself inside and out remembering the last man she was with, his hard throbbing cock inside of her all the way to her cervix, exploding orgasms, the way he caressed and kissed her. Her brain is too fucked up and there's only so much she can do for herself right now. Those slender fingers leave a wet trail from her crotch up to her breasts as she caresses herself before passing out from her drugged out self induced state.
In her dreams she's living inside a large house, with servants who do her every will and capricious desire. Her husband is a powerful and rich ambassador who shows her around like a prized dog, with their cat about and a chauffeur wearing a silly hat they drive around town to see the sights and to be seen. She doesn't have to worry about spending her money, nor does she have to worry about having to do anything for herself. Everything is already taken care of. She goes to parties where women wear dresses worth thousands of dollars that will never see the light of day again, and enough jewelry to feed a village for a lifetime. But she doesn't care anymore, she has her dream.
Her visions perpetuate here for a while, but end up in darkness eventually as the drug fully takes on. Her sleep is deep and constant, at least until her amniotic wet dream wears off. For now though, her ethereal self is swimming about in the abyss of her subconscious. Waiting to wake up, waiting to forget all over again.
With one pull of the plunger, a bit of water is sucked in. It is then meticulously poured onto the pink/brown powder in her spoon. One hand carefully holds the spoon now, while the other uses a lighter underneath it. It bubbles after a short time, after which she uses the needle to mix it in. Once the consistency seems proper, she pulls on the plunger to suck in all of the amniotic fluid from the spoon into the syringes' shaft. Now she can relax, as the hardest part is over and done with. Putting away all of her tools, she leaves out only the rubber tourniquet and syringe.
She walks to the kitchen for a drink of water, the glasses are just above the dish washer, there's a bottle of Perrier inside the fridge which she keeps stocked with tequila and beer. She serves herself a cup and sips at it slowly. On her way back to the bedroom she stops at her iMac where she turns on some music to lead her on her little journey. She first has to minimize the report she's been working on, not many people are able to understand the happenings of third world villages much less actualize a plan to keep a grand majority of them fed. Though she'd had enough of that for today, now it was time to forget about everything.
Music starts up slow, it's a mix of tunes ranging from The Velvet Underground to Devendra Banhart.
Now in her bedroom her slender fingers grab onto the rubber tourniquet as they wrap the loose rubber around her left upper arm and tighten it up, teeth holding on to loose pieces keeping a tight bind. Arm outstretched she slaps the inside of her elbow to pop out the veins. Once they are out well enough she grabs her syringe. At first she breaths in slow and heavy getting the syringe positioned just right. Her mouth waters as a thousand thoughts start to pour through her head of all the men that have been there but left, of the children she's had to hold in her arms to console from their hunger, from their sickness. Her co-workers who are still out there fighting the good fight, fighting for the less fortunate, of the ones who have died for the cause. She pulls on the plunger to make sure she's in the vein, the amber red liquid spurts into the chamber of her syringe. Red viscous blood which she can now see through a small glass window on the side slowly mixes in with her heroin concoction, creating a beautiful spiral of herself and the soon to be amniotic escape. She pushes the plunger in, a slow steady flow.
At first she feels little, her head is still swimming with memories, of the faces, the lovers, the people she's left behind. Everything encumbers her so, but it will all be forgotten soon enough. Pulling out the needle, and releasing the tourniquet, a warm rush goes straight to her head. A numbing feeling in the back of her skull, a tingling, spreading a warmth over her entire body. She puts the now empty chamber on her night table, as soon as it's metal body clinks against the wooden surface so does she collapse onto her bed. Blonde hair spread out around her head like a halo. White slender figure against her dark sheets accentuates the curves of her body. Now her mind is blank, there is nothing going on that could ever stop her from feeling this way. Her body gives itself fully to the heroin which makes it's way and embeds itself onto her brain. Opioid receptors light up as her own thoughts and emotions are shut down.
Nothing matters, everything is meaningless. Only thing that's real right now is this feeling like being on the clouds. Her high makes everything ok. She's not thinking about the children, about the faces of the damned. Her only thought is "God I wish I could get fucked right now." One hand reaches into her pants, she feels her wet pussy, soaking her slender fingers as she feels herself inside and out remembering the last man she was with, his hard throbbing cock inside of her all the way to her cervix, exploding orgasms, the way he caressed and kissed her. Her brain is too fucked up and there's only so much she can do for herself right now. Those slender fingers leave a wet trail from her crotch up to her breasts as she caresses herself before passing out from her drugged out self induced state.
In her dreams she's living inside a large house, with servants who do her every will and capricious desire. Her husband is a powerful and rich ambassador who shows her around like a prized dog, with their cat about and a chauffeur wearing a silly hat they drive around town to see the sights and to be seen. She doesn't have to worry about spending her money, nor does she have to worry about having to do anything for herself. Everything is already taken care of. She goes to parties where women wear dresses worth thousands of dollars that will never see the light of day again, and enough jewelry to feed a village for a lifetime. But she doesn't care anymore, she has her dream.
Her visions perpetuate here for a while, but end up in darkness eventually as the drug fully takes on. Her sleep is deep and constant, at least until her amniotic wet dream wears off. For now though, her ethereal self is swimming about in the abyss of her subconscious. Waiting to wake up, waiting to forget all over again.
17 July 2011
Complicated, isn't it?
Worst thing about being "sick" is being "sick" in a way that no one can see. When you aren't showing symptoms and people can't tell there is something wrong with you by just looking at you makes things quite odd. Friends don't understand, family tries but only kinda gets it and the world starts getting much smaller as going out becomes extremely difficult. What once fed my spirit has dried up, the experience of life, living, and other people. It feels as if life is over. Worst part is having people who you once thought would be there for you just disappear. How is anyone supposed to stick around anyhow? Also, meeting new people becomes extremely difficult. It's not easy to assimilate into this new life, it's extremely hard. I have no help from anyone, all the doctors have to say is "well you shouldn't be feeling like this." Well guess what, I am. I'm in pain, I'm miserable, and my support net is gone. I don't even have a pain buffer. What I feel is disheartening, and all I want is someone to listen, to help. Guess what though, something always comes to mind whenever I think about this: we are born alone, we die alone. It is the one thing that we have to share with each other.
Except for twins, they are born together, and die alone.
Except for twins, they are born together, and die alone.
It must feel nice to know
It's not every night that I dream
much less the times that they are remembered.
So when they are about you I have to ask
if it's you that makes them happen
or if there is some part of me
deep down inside hidden from my own eye
that still misses you.
What do I miss?
A gentle touch as we pass a cigarette
back and forth our fingers slightly graze
the touch of skin to skin.
The stink of your dirty clothes
or hair unwashed for days
a gentle smile
half crooked teeth
to me you were perfect in every way.
I miss the elongated nights
made short by our alcohol consumption
I never drank like I did with you
and somehow I miss that.
Why do you come to mind as often as you do
when we both know you've given up
even though you took my heart with you.
It's not easy to forget the good things
my mistake is that the bad I often do.
That is what love does I guess
blinds one to be a fool.
much less the times that they are remembered.
So when they are about you I have to ask
if it's you that makes them happen
or if there is some part of me
deep down inside hidden from my own eye
that still misses you.
What do I miss?
A gentle touch as we pass a cigarette
back and forth our fingers slightly graze
the touch of skin to skin.
The stink of your dirty clothes
or hair unwashed for days
a gentle smile
half crooked teeth
to me you were perfect in every way.
I miss the elongated nights
made short by our alcohol consumption
I never drank like I did with you
and somehow I miss that.
Why do you come to mind as often as you do
when we both know you've given up
even though you took my heart with you.
It's not easy to forget the good things
my mistake is that the bad I often do.
That is what love does I guess
blinds one to be a fool.
14 July 2011
Bleh
Another 2 days in the hospital. Food poisoning/flu like symptoms. WTF. Yeah, still feel like shit, my head is spinning, and they gave me no meds to go home with. Way to go Hospital.
06 July 2011
The Wrinkles on our Faces
No matter how I paint it
or how many times I lie to myself
she's a thousand miles away
in another's arms
raising the children
that should have been mine.
It's sad
to think of how we loved one another
only to end up like this.
You playing a part
pretending to enjoy
the words that I utter
as one drowns in remorse
that I didn't stay in your warmth
when there was nothing but cold
to come back here to.
Now it's too late,
a decade has passed
since that fateful day
when we first crossed paths
on a web spun foyer
meant for just you and I.
Now we are older
we thread carefully each step
weary from the backhands
that have come our way.
It's not your fault,
nor is it mine.
Sometimes people simply lie.
Once in a past life
we held each other close
loved one another
in your arms my repose.
Now lifetimes later
we find each other again
only to miss one another
by the hair of our necks.
It's been nice to know you
and hear your voice again,
just remember
my ethereal lips
kiss yours every day.
Maybe next life,
though this one seems to be it,
though we may never know
what was meant as our bliss.
or how many times I lie to myself
she's a thousand miles away
in another's arms
raising the children
that should have been mine.
It's sad
to think of how we loved one another
only to end up like this.
You playing a part
pretending to enjoy
the words that I utter
as one drowns in remorse
that I didn't stay in your warmth
when there was nothing but cold
to come back here to.
Now it's too late,
a decade has passed
since that fateful day
when we first crossed paths
on a web spun foyer
meant for just you and I.
Now we are older
we thread carefully each step
weary from the backhands
that have come our way.
It's not your fault,
nor is it mine.
Sometimes people simply lie.
Once in a past life
we held each other close
loved one another
in your arms my repose.
Now lifetimes later
we find each other again
only to miss one another
by the hair of our necks.
It's been nice to know you
and hear your voice again,
just remember
my ethereal lips
kiss yours every day.
Maybe next life,
though this one seems to be it,
though we may never know
what was meant as our bliss.
Human
As the years pass
I've had the chance to
Live, love, hate, and die.
Living short moments of happiness
dances with strangers
getting to know them
as they pop in and out of existence.
Loving without holding back
letting emotions run amok
frivolous kisses
words exchanged long distance
all make a heart ache in joy
simple reminders of Alive.
Hating good-bye
spaces between us
contradictions
of what we thought fate would bring.
Dying slowly
locked away
becoming a memory
one which many will soon forget.
This is human,
birth, life, and death.
I've had the chance to
Live, love, hate, and die.
Living short moments of happiness
dances with strangers
getting to know them
as they pop in and out of existence.
Loving without holding back
letting emotions run amok
frivolous kisses
words exchanged long distance
all make a heart ache in joy
simple reminders of Alive.
Hating good-bye
spaces between us
contradictions
of what we thought fate would bring.
Dying slowly
locked away
becoming a memory
one which many will soon forget.
This is human,
birth, life, and death.
27 June 2011
Coming to terms with her allegorical death
I wish I could say I've learned something dire, an important tid bit of information, but the only thing that I keep exploring is my inner thoughts. Too lost within? Stuck in the muck and tangled in memories? Yes, but at least I know so.
I've been reminded about the way that I was treated by many, disposed of like a bad habit (mirrors can be ugly things I guess), made aware of the injustice of the just, the lust behind the calm blue eyes of yesterday, and the complicated situations that being "alive" really brings on.
Not without much effort do I find myself entangled in the conversations with a lover who will always be, at the same time pulling away from others who dilly dally back and fro without knowing just what it is that they want from life. Rather, finding the self away from overtly complicated states is best right now, but my lover will always be there and that is more than anyone else can say.
It's been years, and years it will be until I'm in the arms of someone that I really trust again. Last time I trusted all too easy, letting the snide remarks slide, the back handed comments and words packed with bullets bounce, all along all of her horrible manifestations came from within to barrage me (or any unlucky male found present at her grasp) as if I'd been the one to hurt her, but I let her go on because I knew her pain and I wanted to help; thus she gave of herself to me, but one cannot deny the hurt that she caused to herself or to me, it's all kept away in the state of memories or even coming back in dreams. It truly makes the past sour but reminds me not to fall for her again.
My lover, I do not have to worry about that with. We've shared the world and more, a bed, a kiss or two, and even the words "I love you" without anything forcing us to fear or worry about what tomorrow may bring because we know that whatever it is we will be there. She is nothing like sour girl, she will never be. That is good, it is great, my childhood friend and lover becomes more than just a memory but a living part of my life. Meanwhile the sour one is embedded into dreams and memories as a husk of a woman I do not wish to have a part of ever again, and so it becomes easier to read others like her, to keep away.
Both of them held the same space once, yet they are complete opposites. Within my heart they found warmth and appreciation, and only one of them knew what to do with it, my solemn lover. Sour Girl knew nothing of such things, her appreciation of life seems only superficial, childish at best (spread your legs for happiness). Playing back and fro from flower bed to flower bed like an earthworm, just eating and defecating while pretending to save the world. Sure, she helps flowers bloom much as she helped me, but the cost of the life led is so much higher than any price I'd be willing to pay, otherwise why would she want to run away from herself so badly with the drugs, sex, and alcohol? And run she does.
With one breath, she stitches together what is left of my heart. With a few words she pumps the eviscerated organs with life and brings me back to stature. She knows what to say to make me smile, to bring out the light within me. My solemn lover will always be there to stitch me back together when sour girls have their way.
This is what I've learned lately, I know it's not much, but to me it's a world.
I've been reminded about the way that I was treated by many, disposed of like a bad habit (mirrors can be ugly things I guess), made aware of the injustice of the just, the lust behind the calm blue eyes of yesterday, and the complicated situations that being "alive" really brings on.
Not without much effort do I find myself entangled in the conversations with a lover who will always be, at the same time pulling away from others who dilly dally back and fro without knowing just what it is that they want from life. Rather, finding the self away from overtly complicated states is best right now, but my lover will always be there and that is more than anyone else can say.
It's been years, and years it will be until I'm in the arms of someone that I really trust again. Last time I trusted all too easy, letting the snide remarks slide, the back handed comments and words packed with bullets bounce, all along all of her horrible manifestations came from within to barrage me (or any unlucky male found present at her grasp) as if I'd been the one to hurt her, but I let her go on because I knew her pain and I wanted to help; thus she gave of herself to me, but one cannot deny the hurt that she caused to herself or to me, it's all kept away in the state of memories or even coming back in dreams. It truly makes the past sour but reminds me not to fall for her again.
My lover, I do not have to worry about that with. We've shared the world and more, a bed, a kiss or two, and even the words "I love you" without anything forcing us to fear or worry about what tomorrow may bring because we know that whatever it is we will be there. She is nothing like sour girl, she will never be. That is good, it is great, my childhood friend and lover becomes more than just a memory but a living part of my life. Meanwhile the sour one is embedded into dreams and memories as a husk of a woman I do not wish to have a part of ever again, and so it becomes easier to read others like her, to keep away.
Both of them held the same space once, yet they are complete opposites. Within my heart they found warmth and appreciation, and only one of them knew what to do with it, my solemn lover. Sour Girl knew nothing of such things, her appreciation of life seems only superficial, childish at best (spread your legs for happiness). Playing back and fro from flower bed to flower bed like an earthworm, just eating and defecating while pretending to save the world. Sure, she helps flowers bloom much as she helped me, but the cost of the life led is so much higher than any price I'd be willing to pay, otherwise why would she want to run away from herself so badly with the drugs, sex, and alcohol? And run she does.
With one breath, she stitches together what is left of my heart. With a few words she pumps the eviscerated organs with life and brings me back to stature. She knows what to say to make me smile, to bring out the light within me. My solemn lover will always be there to stitch me back together when sour girls have their way.
This is what I've learned lately, I know it's not much, but to me it's a world.
20 June 2011
I think movie lines are funny, so what?
Nothing to write, at least nothing I want to share with anyone. Life is meh. It's ok, I'm getting used to being tossed to the side like a half dead dog. It only fuels my hate for them. I hope you get what you deserve.
04 June 2011
...
I felt like writing on my way home from my sisters graduation today, which I was only able to attend for a little while, but now I'm just not feeling letting out all of this... shit. Yes, shit. Because it's all I beget. What a waste, my whole life ahead of me is a waste. I can't do anything to help myself right. I just want to...
03 June 2011
Truths in quotes
"she was consumed by 3 simple things:
drink, despair, loneliness; and 2 more:
youth and beauty"
— Charles Bukowski (The People Look Like Flowers At Last: New Poems)
drink, despair, loneliness; and 2 more:
youth and beauty"
— Charles Bukowski (The People Look Like Flowers At Last: New Poems)
31 May 2011
Remnants of Dream Land
It's happened before, where I have strange dreams that I wake up to, hoping that I can finish off. First, I was doing an investigation on some conglomerate power, in a post apocalyptic and desolate world, they were hiding seeds. A few people knew about this, and tried to sneak out as many as they could, but the corporation wanted them dead. I was there to figure out why people turned up dead. It was so hard to get in, but once I did they couldn't do anything to me, as I had special fiscal powers. In other words, many people knew where I was, and what I was doing. In the end, I had found someone who would talk to me, Lucy. Lucy was sneaking out seeds, giving them to farmers I believe. We left the building but I lost her, somehow a biker started jumping over me on his bike to stop me. I kept telling him that I was in a fragile condition and he should be extremely careful. Eventually someone came up and grabbed him, swung him like a rag doll and smashed his helmet onto the pavement. It was here that I heard a punk rock band singing in a park, the lyrics all escape me but this part "we are here, we are here, we are trying to live homeless. Staving off the cold, keeping each other warm, we are trying to stave off homelessness."
I awoke, couldn't get into the dream again. I wanted to find Lucy and get the real story. It is here that I pass out again, and another dream begins.
I'm starting a road trip, I have all of these benefactors lined up, people who will be giving me money along the way in order to continue on. I was with my old friend Steph, she wanted to come along to take pictures and such. Our first stop took us to a big city, I can't recall which, but we pulled up to a parking lot and headed towards a mall. There we met the first benefactor, a nerdy 20 something year old guy who handed over a fat wad of cash and said that he couldn't wait to see what we got into. I told him that it was going to be interesting, and he should come along if he'd like. He said something about work or school, I tried to give him a book I had but he lost it the minute I handed it to him. We tried looking but to no avail. In the end Steph and I left, and we decided to go for a walk. I told her to stop and look at her surroundings, we needed to remember where the car was.
I awoke, couldn't get into the dream again. I wanted to find Lucy and get the real story. It is here that I pass out again, and another dream begins.
I'm starting a road trip, I have all of these benefactors lined up, people who will be giving me money along the way in order to continue on. I was with my old friend Steph, she wanted to come along to take pictures and such. Our first stop took us to a big city, I can't recall which, but we pulled up to a parking lot and headed towards a mall. There we met the first benefactor, a nerdy 20 something year old guy who handed over a fat wad of cash and said that he couldn't wait to see what we got into. I told him that it was going to be interesting, and he should come along if he'd like. He said something about work or school, I tried to give him a book I had but he lost it the minute I handed it to him. We tried looking but to no avail. In the end Steph and I left, and we decided to go for a walk. I told her to stop and look at her surroundings, we needed to remember where the car was.
28 May 2011
Try Try Try
It's days like today which make me wish I was able to just go, to get up and move away from here. These four walls, the lack of privacy, the unstable home situation. It tears at my inner psyche, I'm unable to cope because I'm unable to care for myself at the moment. Without work, without a bright light at the end of this tunnel, what am I to do? I feel ill, physically as well as mentally. I don't want to be tied down like this anymore, but there is no other way for me. My creativity is at an all time low, I blame it on the lack of "alone" time. I am always surrounded by someone, be it my sister or my mother, they are about at all times. Feeling ostigated with their presence I wonder if they feel the same about me, and if they want me gone as badly as I want to be gone. When will they know that I left a long time ago? That mentally I have tried to be away from them for so long. I sometimes don't understand these things, though I do know that what I do is because it makes me feel better, it allows for me to be somewhere else entirely. I often wish that things would be different, that I could take care of myself, that I had my own place, maybe then my family and I would get along better.
She came back into mind again. I met someone this past weekend, someone who reminded me a lot of her. Blond, thin, with a bag full of pills, and a care free attitude. I knew to stay away from the moment I laid eyes on her, sour girls are not something I want to be hanging around with. Other than that the festival went well. I met someone who I thought was really nice, but they may never know because I didn't say so. It was one of the volunteers, brunette, nice figure, and a go get 'em sense of being that I enjoyed. Too bad I was too busy making sure things were ok to do anything about it, to chat her up and say more than just hello. I'm such an idiot sometimes. What I hate the most is feeling alone, especially when I'm surrounded by people.
She came back into mind again. I met someone this past weekend, someone who reminded me a lot of her. Blond, thin, with a bag full of pills, and a care free attitude. I knew to stay away from the moment I laid eyes on her, sour girls are not something I want to be hanging around with. Other than that the festival went well. I met someone who I thought was really nice, but they may never know because I didn't say so. It was one of the volunteers, brunette, nice figure, and a go get 'em sense of being that I enjoyed. Too bad I was too busy making sure things were ok to do anything about it, to chat her up and say more than just hello. I'm such an idiot sometimes. What I hate the most is feeling alone, especially when I'm surrounded by people.
07 May 2011
Blues, Oxycodone, and the demise of my generation.
It's been a while since my last post. A lot of things have happened. I fell in love, and then into apathy, all because of a few mishapped words. What can one do but try to give and love, if it's not returned then it's just not meant to be.
Someone passed away, someone I knew, rather met a few times. It's not so much the pain of loosing someone that I thought was a nice human being, but seeing the pain of those who loved this individual. It tears at my inner most. It's a sad reality. "Blues," as they have come to be called here, better known by their name Oxycodone, have certainly made quite the impression upon me these last few years. From seeing friends cope with the eminent addiction, to a lover who was more than just a regular user, to running into the aftermath more than once in it's many facades. This is a very scary drug, an extremely potent thing to be feared. It should not be taken lightly, and those who peddle it should be shot. No kidding, it is one of the worst epidemics I have ever seen, it is my generations version of... hell, I don't think we've ever had anything this bad in our society.
Sour girl comes to mind, that old lover, that woman who makes strides in the right direction all while she shoots up poison into her veins. How vain of her.
People from my past, from Opie, to Jerry. Those who lost themselves, and the few that found their way back.
Honestly I am at a loss for words. I wish this could stop, I wish that the whole thing could go away, but it wont. It's here to stay, and we have to deal with it. We have to hope that the ones smart enough don't just fall into it's hands. Even I, after spine surgery and such, I am in danger. The opioids that I must consume to keep my own sanity are the demons that I also must face. I only take them at night to help me sleep, to keep the pain at bay, and I hate it because I don't want to end up like them. I am afraid to end up like sour girl. Having met her, and known her as I did, does put the world in perspective in such a multi faceted way that I am able to understand that what I'm going through must be threaded carefully. It is not something to be taken lightly, as there is a very fine line between sanity and loss of self here.
If only one day she'd wake up too.
Someone passed away, someone I knew, rather met a few times. It's not so much the pain of loosing someone that I thought was a nice human being, but seeing the pain of those who loved this individual. It tears at my inner most. It's a sad reality. "Blues," as they have come to be called here, better known by their name Oxycodone, have certainly made quite the impression upon me these last few years. From seeing friends cope with the eminent addiction, to a lover who was more than just a regular user, to running into the aftermath more than once in it's many facades. This is a very scary drug, an extremely potent thing to be feared. It should not be taken lightly, and those who peddle it should be shot. No kidding, it is one of the worst epidemics I have ever seen, it is my generations version of... hell, I don't think we've ever had anything this bad in our society.
Sour girl comes to mind, that old lover, that woman who makes strides in the right direction all while she shoots up poison into her veins. How vain of her.
People from my past, from Opie, to Jerry. Those who lost themselves, and the few that found their way back.
Honestly I am at a loss for words. I wish this could stop, I wish that the whole thing could go away, but it wont. It's here to stay, and we have to deal with it. We have to hope that the ones smart enough don't just fall into it's hands. Even I, after spine surgery and such, I am in danger. The opioids that I must consume to keep my own sanity are the demons that I also must face. I only take them at night to help me sleep, to keep the pain at bay, and I hate it because I don't want to end up like them. I am afraid to end up like sour girl. Having met her, and known her as I did, does put the world in perspective in such a multi faceted way that I am able to understand that what I'm going through must be threaded carefully. It is not something to be taken lightly, as there is a very fine line between sanity and loss of self here.
If only one day she'd wake up too.
28 April 2011
22 April 2011
Cat Naps
There is no place like home
but what if home is being invaded
taken over
over run?
Then what is your place?
Where can you go?
No where.
I often dream of sleep
eternal
uninhibited
all in all
something just for me.
It’s taken years to become
entangled in social endevours
drama
hear says and illusions.
How pleasing it would be to me
just to wash away
the abstinence,
the disobedience,
the allure of yesterday
of sin itself,
with the closing of eyelids
in an eternal sleep.
This would please me
knowing that no one can wake me
knowing that life is but a dreamland
left behind for the dreamers
while I live a real life
soaked away in the tears of tomorrow.
but what if home is being invaded
taken over
over run?
Then what is your place?
Where can you go?
No where.
I often dream of sleep
eternal
uninhibited
all in all
something just for me.
It’s taken years to become
entangled in social endevours
drama
hear says and illusions.
How pleasing it would be to me
just to wash away
the abstinence,
the disobedience,
the allure of yesterday
of sin itself,
with the closing of eyelids
in an eternal sleep.
This would please me
knowing that no one can wake me
knowing that life is but a dreamland
left behind for the dreamers
while I live a real life
soaked away in the tears of tomorrow.
Deliciously Sacrilegious
She bucked as quickly as she came
my head buried deep between her thighs
I could hear her heart beat every time she squeezed them
pressing hard upon my head,
glossy lips to kiss with a trimmed growth of hair
flourishing around them, it was just
enough to tell you that she’s a woman
and not some little girl.
I moved my tongue around the little mound
which lay hidden between her soft labia
one that my lips could feel pulsing
with every beat of her powerful heart.
It was delicious,
sacrilegious,
that my lips themselves prayed upon hers
lavishing in the tender touch of their kiss.
Arms wrapped around her legs,
hands freely transversing her body
one could feel her back arch slowly as they touched her hardened nipples.
Oh illustrious woman,
heavy breathing and panting gave away that your cum would soon flow
and your little patch which was already so moist
would turn into a river
gushin
almost drowning me
but still I prayed on your body.
As her hips began to raise,
her juices flowed freely
a taste so arousing my tongue aches for it even now.
Taste buds lit in ecstasy,
the scent of her all over my face.
It was delicious,
sacrilegious,
the way her cunt wet the bed
my head buried deep between her thighs
I could hear her heart beat every time she squeezed them
pressing hard upon my head,
glossy lips to kiss with a trimmed growth of hair
flourishing around them, it was just
enough to tell you that she’s a woman
and not some little girl.
I moved my tongue around the little mound
which lay hidden between her soft labia
one that my lips could feel pulsing
with every beat of her powerful heart.
It was delicious,
sacrilegious,
that my lips themselves prayed upon hers
lavishing in the tender touch of their kiss.
Arms wrapped around her legs,
hands freely transversing her body
one could feel her back arch slowly as they touched her hardened nipples.
Oh illustrious woman,
heavy breathing and panting gave away that your cum would soon flow
and your little patch which was already so moist
would turn into a river
gushin
almost drowning me
but still I prayed on your body.
As her hips began to raise,
her juices flowed freely
a taste so arousing my tongue aches for it even now.
Taste buds lit in ecstasy,
the scent of her all over my face.
It was delicious,
sacrilegious,
the way her cunt wet the bed
15 April 2011
Catharsis
I can't sleep, I'm tired, yet I can't sleep. I find that I don't like people more and more. WoW seems more appealing every day, the less I have to deal with certain individuals the best. It might be time to cut some of those things out of my life. I'd much rather spend my time doing something else.
11 April 2011
My Feminist Doctor
Oh dearest
feminist doctor
how did it ever come
to pass that
we would be like this?
You so angry
me so confused
the both of us lost
and in the end
no one knew
just why we ended up
the way we did
with our heads in the ground
and our rears in the air.
Come,
let me tell you this:
If I could
I'd do it all over again
only thing I'd do differently
is accept your invitation
to do anything
and everything
I pleased with you.
I must have been insane
to turn down
your body,
that
which you obviously
wish to give away
so much
to so many
but oh well.
Maybe
there wont be a next time
but I can assure you
I won't be the last
won't I?
My Feminist Doctor.
feminist doctor
how did it ever come
to pass that
we would be like this?
You so angry
me so confused
the both of us lost
and in the end
no one knew
just why we ended up
the way we did
with our heads in the ground
and our rears in the air.
Come,
let me tell you this:
If I could
I'd do it all over again
only thing I'd do differently
is accept your invitation
to do anything
and everything
I pleased with you.
I must have been insane
to turn down
your body,
that
which you obviously
wish to give away
so much
to so many
but oh well.
Maybe
there wont be a next time
but I can assure you
I won't be the last
won't I?
My Feminist Doctor.
22 March 2011
Excuses are cheap
I'm achy but feeling a lot better. I am reminded of something someone once said to me:
"what i meant by saying you need to be more of an asshole, is that you are already too lovable, floating along, so you, like me, are a bit of a doormat. people take advantage, and we both think people have good intentions. when in the end, it is not the case, so by standing up, saying no sometimes, putting your foot down, thats what i mean by being more of an asshole. kinda being facetious, cos it seems that only assholes and douchebags, those that unfairly compete for life's resources, are the ones that make it. hence, if we become more like assholes, maybe we will run amok and can start driving hummers and make soap outta our lipo and tit jobs." - Anon
How right they were. I am sometimes lost in so many thoughts that I forget about this, and this is the most important part of it all. Damn it, I hate it when you are right.
"what i meant by saying you need to be more of an asshole, is that you are already too lovable, floating along, so you, like me, are a bit of a doormat. people take advantage, and we both think people have good intentions. when in the end, it is not the case, so by standing up, saying no sometimes, putting your foot down, thats what i mean by being more of an asshole. kinda being facetious, cos it seems that only assholes and douchebags, those that unfairly compete for life's resources, are the ones that make it. hence, if we become more like assholes, maybe we will run amok and can start driving hummers and make soap outta our lipo and tit jobs." - Anon
How right they were. I am sometimes lost in so many thoughts that I forget about this, and this is the most important part of it all. Damn it, I hate it when you are right.
16 March 2011
On SourGirls' and their need to numb away the pain.
Drugs have done all sort of things in my life. Above all it has made me realize that feeling is more important than anything, even if it does hurt, even if it does pain my soul. It's much better than being some zombie that doesn't feel a thing. My emotions make sense, they are there for a reason. I will always remember SourGirl telling me "why do you have to tell people how you feel? Keep that to yourself." Well, because it made sense. Because it was reality, it was something tangible in a world full of lost and confused souls. I wont deny myself feeling again. You, SourGirl, numbed yourself in order to not feel the pain of a past love, or something. Stop pushing it on others, just because you didn't want to feel SHIT, doesn't mean others deserve/need to be as miserable as you. I'd rather feel sad, happy, anything at all. Because it's these things that make us feel ALIVE. These are just some of the things that I've learned.
12 March 2011
On involuntary addiction...
Coming off of opiates sucks. I feel tense, I've got a head ache, I feel depressed as shit, antsy, I keep sweating bullets randomly, and to top it off it makes me look like total shit. I've got bags under my eyes, and I get random shakes. It's just shitty. I moos def know why people get hooked to the shit, because it makes everything and anything bearable, I could hate myself to no end and still feel wonderful. No wonder so many people loose themselves to this, and loose so much sleep. The worst part of it all is the nightmares. I keep having them every night and they are not very nice. Heres to another day, another fight.
07 March 2011
Letters to Wigglytuff
Early in the morning, its music that keeps my soul from exploding into a million fractels, each numbed away by the medicine, confused by the dope. I get lost in my own mind, where i find you and grab yer hand while we run out into the light. Wind hitting our faces, branches of memories slapping me accross mine as reminders of the past we leave behind. This is a new path, a new way. Your kiss intoxicates me in my dreams so,that in real life it will knock me into a frenzy of lip to hip movement and traveling hands. My mind struggles to keep up with your kiss, with your caress. As the sky light burns our skin, it etches the profile of the other on each other, we feel the edges of our faces rub up against one another and our soft lips bite hard as our ecstacy bursts through our clothes and the sweat beads mix into one glorious pool at the bottom of everything.
06 March 2011
Shaggtastic
I still have a problem
I love too easily
and it kills me
every time
because when I find someone
who I find worth while
I give myself fully
and don't hold back
the whole time
I am just setting myself up
for a let down
for pain
for them to twist and destroy
everything that I gave to them
and somehow I find this to be ok
somehow I get the point across
that my heart is theirs
and that no matter what
I will always be there
no matter how many times
they trample me.
I am a rug.
I am a lover.
I am a looser.
Why even bother.
I love too easily
and it kills me
every time
because when I find someone
who I find worth while
I give myself fully
and don't hold back
the whole time
I am just setting myself up
for a let down
for pain
for them to twist and destroy
everything that I gave to them
and somehow I find this to be ok
somehow I get the point across
that my heart is theirs
and that no matter what
I will always be there
no matter how many times
they trample me.
I am a rug.
I am a lover.
I am a looser.
Why even bother.
05 March 2011
I feel so much better.
Saturday. Third day after spine xlif surgery. I can feel the difference. My pain is gone, the only remains are those from the surgery itself. It feels great. The drugs are helping too, but I can tell you that the pains I felt before are gone, the weakness in my legs, the numbness. It's almost like being born again. After 2 years of pain and trying to manage, I'm glad to have found a solution. Next: the road to recovery.
03 March 2011
*smooches*
Your kind of intoxicating.
You've made me glow
It's the thought
of your kiss
and sweet words
uttered from your lips
"again, kiss me again"
That I wish to feel
to hear
as your soft caress whispers
a warm breath onto my neck
onto my ear
and just so
the two of us lay together
basking in the afterglow
of our moonlight sonata
a reprise of
our revisal
to the feel of each others skin.
You've made me glow
It's the thought
of your kiss
and sweet words
uttered from your lips
"again, kiss me again"
That I wish to feel
to hear
as your soft caress whispers
a warm breath onto my neck
onto my ear
and just so
the two of us lay together
basking in the afterglow
of our moonlight sonata
a reprise of
our revisal
to the feel of each others skin.
02 March 2011
Intricate, but quite simple.
no matter how hard I try to play it cool
I can't do it when you are on my mind
because i let myself get loose
and feel everything that involves you
i am a feeble looser
in the game of loving you
every time i try to play
is a time i fall for you
I can't do it when you are on my mind
because i let myself get loose
and feel everything that involves you
i am a feeble looser
in the game of loving you
every time i try to play
is a time i fall for you
01 March 2011
Letters to Mudkips
Thinking of your voice. I want to kiss those lips which speak to me so sweetly. Caress your skin, for which mine screams in such a way that my pores themselves ache for you.
28 February 2011
Less Than Three
I love you and I'm not afraid to say it.
You love me and you are not afraid to say it.
Life is good.
You love me and you are not afraid to say it.
Life is good.
24 February 2011
Love, Pain, Alone.
Sometimes I get tired of pretending everything is alright. That all of the people I know are wonderful and that the world is full of well meaning human beings who I have yet to meet. I often forget about the deceit, the lies, the cold shoulders that people whom I once called brother or sister have given me. It's the lack of enthusiasm to be cheated, to be used and thrown away that makes me want to crawl into a roach hotel to never come out again. It's the luster of the shit they sell that turns me off, the obvious smell of their lascivious mental encounters with the idea of fucking you over, it's what gets them off. Sick minds pay no attention to the suffering of the human spirit, it is easier to trample than it is to nurture, therefore the amount of humans who would rather see you eating dirt is greater than that of those who wish to actually help their fellow man or woman.
It's here that I find myself. Lost in thought within the crevices of my mind. Wondering what it was that made Sour Girl so sour. Was it the shitty human relations she had? Or was she just born to be a user and abuser herself. I may never know, and that is ok because some things are best left unknown.
It's here that I find myself. Wondering alone amongst the ghosts of memories. Compelled to reach out and say hello to old friends, but always reminded of their paper faces which make me quickly turn away.
I was reading over my last post, and I noticed that with the words Pain and Love you create Alone. Without the first two, the latter is non existent. It's as if language itself is telling us that to love and feel pain is the path to being alone. Because no one wants anything more than to love, and that love we all yearn for so much will undoubtedly cause pain. Once you feel that pain you realize that you have two options: You can continue to love and feel pain, or you can be alone, devoid of both, yet having such an understanding that one would purposely stray from such things in order to save thine own self.
My only wish is to find a woman who will not cheat me, lie to me, live in deceit, but a woman who will respect me as I respect her, be honest, loving, and understanding. Someone with a heart, as I am tired of meeting heartless little girls who play the strings of my heart like harp only to snap them and crush it under their feet. I certainly hope that she is the one, because I haven't met anyone who shares the kind of things we share, and thats only scratching the surface.
It's here that I find myself. Lost in thought within the crevices of my mind. Wondering what it was that made Sour Girl so sour. Was it the shitty human relations she had? Or was she just born to be a user and abuser herself. I may never know, and that is ok because some things are best left unknown.
It's here that I find myself. Wondering alone amongst the ghosts of memories. Compelled to reach out and say hello to old friends, but always reminded of their paper faces which make me quickly turn away.
I was reading over my last post, and I noticed that with the words Pain and Love you create Alone. Without the first two, the latter is non existent. It's as if language itself is telling us that to love and feel pain is the path to being alone. Because no one wants anything more than to love, and that love we all yearn for so much will undoubtedly cause pain. Once you feel that pain you realize that you have two options: You can continue to love and feel pain, or you can be alone, devoid of both, yet having such an understanding that one would purposely stray from such things in order to save thine own self.
My only wish is to find a woman who will not cheat me, lie to me, live in deceit, but a woman who will respect me as I respect her, be honest, loving, and understanding. Someone with a heart, as I am tired of meeting heartless little girls who play the strings of my heart like harp only to snap them and crush it under their feet. I certainly hope that she is the one, because I haven't met anyone who shares the kind of things we share, and thats only scratching the surface.
23 February 2011
As When Turns Into If
As when turns into if
the morning dew
sprinkled so lightly
rusts away at the promise
often made but always forgotten
to keep my head up
and let the tears roll off
without worrying about them.
It's hard to ignore
when they land on wounds
so fresh and open
that it stings
salty and abundant
like the ocean
they drown me.
It's because I let myself
fall into rough seas
holding on to nothing
expecting the waters to keep me
to drown me out and forget
that we ever existed.
Because I am forgotten
because my "friends" walk away
because no one wants to help
when you are lost in your pain
and the only thing to do
is wince at the cold shoulders.
More painful than a broken back
and busted dreams.
As when turns into if
I feel her slipping away
and it's ok
because nothing is meant to last
only pain is eternal
only love is eternal
only alone is eternal.
You forget about the good times
because it's a hindrance.
You forget about the bad times
because they remind you
that you are alive.
Forget,
because it's the human thing to do.
the morning dew
sprinkled so lightly
rusts away at the promise
often made but always forgotten
to keep my head up
and let the tears roll off
without worrying about them.
It's hard to ignore
when they land on wounds
so fresh and open
that it stings
salty and abundant
like the ocean
they drown me.
It's because I let myself
fall into rough seas
holding on to nothing
expecting the waters to keep me
to drown me out and forget
that we ever existed.
Because I am forgotten
because my "friends" walk away
because no one wants to help
when you are lost in your pain
and the only thing to do
is wince at the cold shoulders.
More painful than a broken back
and busted dreams.
As when turns into if
I feel her slipping away
and it's ok
because nothing is meant to last
only pain is eternal
only love is eternal
only alone is eternal.
You forget about the good times
because it's a hindrance.
You forget about the bad times
because they remind you
that you are alive.
Forget,
because it's the human thing to do.
22 February 2011
Trauma Sing Along
Truth is I am crippled
my heart has been broken
and I am not able to keep it
here by myself.
Too many pieces
to hold on to
pieces that fall through my fingers
I just want some help
to keep them in one place
instead of all over the streets.
Winds of change
blow out the crevices
and gutters
where some pieces have fallen
and been forgotten
while the aching
and the raking
stir up
the memory of yesterday.
It's ok
to forget
to let go
but it's the crack
inside my head
that led to the breaching
of my heart
that keeps me wondering.
Will the scars ever heal?
Not as long as I pick at the scabs.
my heart has been broken
and I am not able to keep it
here by myself.
Too many pieces
to hold on to
pieces that fall through my fingers
I just want some help
to keep them in one place
instead of all over the streets.
Winds of change
blow out the crevices
and gutters
where some pieces have fallen
and been forgotten
while the aching
and the raking
stir up
the memory of yesterday.
It's ok
to forget
to let go
but it's the crack
inside my head
that led to the breaching
of my heart
that keeps me wondering.
Will the scars ever heal?
Not as long as I pick at the scabs.
16 February 2011
Romance me with your voice
Taste of something new
something untouched
unwilled.
I feel the pull
of my emotions
reminding me I'm alive.
They tug
and squeeze
this lonely heart
a simple reminder
that feelings still exist
apathy was just a somber way
of letting me know
something else could be here,
a beautiful emotion
that radiates through
and into the void that was left
filling the emptiness up to the rim
with her kiss
and her hugs
and the thought of her lips.
So glad
to have her here
or there
rather anywhere.
As long as I hear her voice
say to me those words
"I love thee."
something untouched
unwilled.
I feel the pull
of my emotions
reminding me I'm alive.
They tug
and squeeze
this lonely heart
a simple reminder
that feelings still exist
apathy was just a somber way
of letting me know
something else could be here,
a beautiful emotion
that radiates through
and into the void that was left
filling the emptiness up to the rim
with her kiss
and her hugs
and the thought of her lips.
So glad
to have her here
or there
rather anywhere.
As long as I hear her voice
say to me those words
"I love thee."
12 February 2011
Snivels
I dream of bamboo
growing from the empty pots
it is something new.
Her soft hand touches
my hand caresses her too
lips interwoven
The sky it turns blue
green sprouts they are reaching up
from ground to the sky
it is something new
sprouting form a random act
a friendship it grew
a friendship so new
they slowly get to know what
the other is like
through traveling notes
two thousand thirty five miles
they send their x o's
Thirty four hours
is all it would take for them
to know how they taste.
growing from the empty pots
it is something new.
Her soft hand touches
my hand caresses her too
lips interwoven
The sky it turns blue
green sprouts they are reaching up
from ground to the sky
it is something new
sprouting form a random act
a friendship it grew
a friendship so new
they slowly get to know what
the other is like
through traveling notes
two thousand thirty five miles
they send their x o's
Thirty four hours
is all it would take for them
to know how they taste.
08 February 2011
Venturing out
I can't wipe the shit eating grin off my face.
She keeps texting me,
and I her.
There is nothing to be afraid of.
She keeps texting me,
and I her.
There is nothing to be afraid of.
02 February 2011
Cleaning house
Go flash some dollar signs, surely they will all come a flocking. Meanwhile I've got nothing to hide the holes in my pocket, the holes where the money drains out. At least I rest easy knowing my hands are clean from dealing with the scum and the lost souls hiding up in the trees. Loneliness surely can get to you though. Where did all the real people go? Into the foliage, lost to lack of self control.
01 February 2011
Mental Miscarriage
As time passes, I find myself more out of this funk that she left me in. I must learn not to love so easily. I must learn not to give my heart so easily. I must be weary of girls and women alike. I must not allow myself to be treated like a toy for a bored little girl to play with. I still say it again and again, Blonde on Blonde by Bob Dylan... Did he read my mind from the past? Or did we unwillingly play along to his script. We may never know. But as I prepare for a second surgery, I can say that I wish she was around, to talk to and to kiss. One needs those sorts of things, part of the human condition you see. I wouldn't mind being the one doing the using this time around, as long as it was her I could dump and make feel like nothing, just as she did to me. But slowly, I'm crawling out of this funk she left me in, because I shouldn't let a girl break my spirit, especially one I thought was a woman.
19 January 2011
Maggie's Farm
I meant every word. Too bad we were too doped up on a world meant to fuck us up. Sometimes I wish things could have been different, but I still know that somethings aren't meant to be. I miss you, and I miss the good times. I don't miss the hatred in your eyes though, you can keep that. If ever we run into each other, I don't know you and hope that you do the same. Last thing either of us needs is to know one another. Good-riddance.
15 January 2011
Momentary Lapse of Reason
Do you have to be happy to write something about happiness? As a writer I should be able to, but without it in my life I am unable to conjure exactly what it is. Some things come easy, because you see it in movies and read about it in the newspapers and books. Something like happiness though, it is quite hard to discern just what is true happiness for the self, unless it's in front of your face. Happiness has become one of the hardest things to find, not because of lack of trying, but rather indignant behaviors that devour the self disallowing the continuance of happiness found, drowning it out without giving it a fair chance. This is what I'm afraid of. That the cycle will continue, though knowing about these sort of things should help me become more aware of what I'm doing and how to not be so hard on myself as well as others. Happiness. How am I supposed to write about it if all I keep learning about is brokenhearted truths.
It's just the way life is I guess.
It's just the way life is I guess.
14 January 2011
Kindred Spirits
There is little else left but friendship
be it that of individuals once thought lost,
to the ones who have all but forgotten.
Keeping it simple helps a great deal,
not letting life get too complicated
will make all the difference one day.
It's like a standing body of water
once you dam the whole thing to hell
it will rot and fester
without being able to flow freely.
As the years go by nothing much seems to change
but the expressions on the faces of my generation.
A certain pull from gravity which brings down
even the brightest and widest of smiles
into a visible frown, those poor clowns.
These years which lay so heavy on our faces
only bring sorrow in the knowledge
that we'll never see them again.
Inside we are jealous of our younger counterparts
because it is their tomorrow we want so bad.
So bad we'll do what it takes to make sure they remember us.
Dead flesh still clinging to bone with nothing left
except for a name tag poorly attached to our emotions,
the only raw thing which we've kept downplaying for so long.
It is they who will ultimately destroy us
if we aren't knowledgeable of their humble begin.
If we are fools and don't heath to the demands
of a foolish heart every once in a while.
Because to live is to love is to live to love,
or something like that.
Kindred spirits will always say hello to one another
even when the two people don't know who the other is,
there are some things only time will tell.
Let the waters flow freely and carve the terrain
it is better to bring on change that to stifle the self.
be it that of individuals once thought lost,
to the ones who have all but forgotten.
Keeping it simple helps a great deal,
not letting life get too complicated
will make all the difference one day.
It's like a standing body of water
once you dam the whole thing to hell
it will rot and fester
without being able to flow freely.
As the years go by nothing much seems to change
but the expressions on the faces of my generation.
A certain pull from gravity which brings down
even the brightest and widest of smiles
into a visible frown, those poor clowns.
These years which lay so heavy on our faces
only bring sorrow in the knowledge
that we'll never see them again.
Inside we are jealous of our younger counterparts
because it is their tomorrow we want so bad.
So bad we'll do what it takes to make sure they remember us.
Dead flesh still clinging to bone with nothing left
except for a name tag poorly attached to our emotions,
the only raw thing which we've kept downplaying for so long.
It is they who will ultimately destroy us
if we aren't knowledgeable of their humble begin.
If we are fools and don't heath to the demands
of a foolish heart every once in a while.
Because to live is to love is to live to love,
or something like that.
Kindred spirits will always say hello to one another
even when the two people don't know who the other is,
there are some things only time will tell.
Let the waters flow freely and carve the terrain
it is better to bring on change that to stifle the self.
13 January 2011
Necrosis
it is your ultra violence
your indecision
your mental atrophy
that has left the world
standing still
only in your head
we've all moved on
lived and loved
the world within you
unstirred and hollow
you move away
but there is no sorrow
deeper than whats in your bags
deep
stowed away
your indecision
your mental atrophy
that has left the world
standing still
only in your head
we've all moved on
lived and loved
the world within you
unstirred and hollow
you move away
but there is no sorrow
deeper than whats in your bags
deep
stowed away
10 January 2011
02 January 2011
Ssica's year
It was just a year ago, that she walked into my life and left just as easily. Ssica, how I wonder if your real name is Jessica, and if you remember me as I remember you. Chances are no, and no. But whatever, it still doesn't change the fact that I had an amazing experience, and learned a very real life lesson because of you.
I thank you, wherever you may be.
Maybe one day, we will bump into each other. We may not know who the other is, but something tells me that somewhere deep inside we'll recognize something about one another, and we'll end up talking. One never knows, and hope although empty, is all one can have in such situations. Life may have been very different with you around. I could have not met Sour Girl, or K, and life would have been swell. I could have lived a happier life without knowing either of them, not so much K, but most def Sour Girl. I can honestly say that I've also learned a lot through her, most definitely not as much from as through, and for that I'm thankful.
This last year has been a roller coaster, something that was so simple and quick turned into a monster of catastrophic proportions, best part is dealing with it mostly alone. Mom's is there, but she's not. The one shoulder I looked to lean on, turned out to be a heroin whore, more than just once too. Man, what a weird year. Either way, I'm glad it all went down, I really am. Because I know.
I still have that glass bead, and I carry it everywhere with me. I don't know why, it's kind of silly, I know... but it's something I look at every once in a while and I know that no matter what, life will always hold little surprises for you. I'll see you when I see you, in real life, or in my dreams. Stay beautiful.
who
I will always love you, stranger.
I thank you, wherever you may be.
Maybe one day, we will bump into each other. We may not know who the other is, but something tells me that somewhere deep inside we'll recognize something about one another, and we'll end up talking. One never knows, and hope although empty, is all one can have in such situations. Life may have been very different with you around. I could have not met Sour Girl, or K, and life would have been swell. I could have lived a happier life without knowing either of them, not so much K, but most def Sour Girl. I can honestly say that I've also learned a lot through her, most definitely not as much from as through, and for that I'm thankful.
This last year has been a roller coaster, something that was so simple and quick turned into a monster of catastrophic proportions, best part is dealing with it mostly alone. Mom's is there, but she's not. The one shoulder I looked to lean on, turned out to be a heroin whore, more than just once too. Man, what a weird year. Either way, I'm glad it all went down, I really am. Because I know.
I still have that glass bead, and I carry it everywhere with me. I don't know why, it's kind of silly, I know... but it's something I look at every once in a while and I know that no matter what, life will always hold little surprises for you. I'll see you when I see you, in real life, or in my dreams. Stay beautiful.
who
I will always love you, stranger.
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