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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Writers block.



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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.

American Pornographica Xmas

This unconcern of people wanting to know/seek the truth, and willingness to fall into a monotonous social structure, disturbs me. 

I am fully aware of your disposition, and willingness to ostracize those who do not fit in with your norms. Pointing and staring, wondering what their mother may think of the distasteful actions they now engage in. To you, just another dissident who thinks they can change the world, drugged up and tuned out.

Meanwhile, you are lost in your own trip, your own mental game of who runs the world. A hyper dome of injustice and trampling rips through the world. You only really care about one thing anyway... your wallet bursts fat, and the veins run deep with poison, oh the life of the vain.

Observing and interacting in a socially aware mindset has left my energy drained, with your lies and false idols, dances for the mascaraed in this so called life little is left for truth, love, and happiness. 

We were dead when we were born.

We laid dead when we were burned.

Fun is dead.

Love is dead.

Peace is dead.

Choice is dead.

Unique moments which once differentiated the day from night have been white washed by your indecisions and lack of spirit. You only care about one thing now, when once all you thought about was the sunrise, and the feel of the wind passing through your hair. Love has become a fleeting thought. All you ever really cared about was one thing... your veins ache, your wallets spill out with the prick of the needle... Oh the curse of the vain.

All Hail the Mighty Dollar!

Freedom is chained up at your doorstep, and you don't even see it.

All Hail the Mighty Dollar!

Give up everything for your trusted side gun, kill another infidel with your hand pistol pointed at their skull, the image replays over and over on CNN and other major news networks. You are a great hero now, your name should go up on the red wall.


Spill my love all over with my fun in your mouth, words shooting out of my gun a mile a minute, heading for your palette, next stop is lodged deep within your brain, next to the memory of our first kiss. "All I want is to see someone I respect without their clothes,"* her hair spread out over my sleeping bag, keeping each others warmth inside a tent, within the woods of our psyches we give in to our animal lust. Our vain egos ache for my prick to penetrate you, my heroin seeps into your every crevice as the stars light your eyes, and we fall asleep in each others arms, aching for the morning sun to melt us yet again so we may start a new.

Fun is dead.

Love is dead.

Peace is dead.

Choice is dead.

We are all born dead, brought to life by breath. Until we choose to die, to stop living for ourselves. Choices made, lead to roads of destruction and war. Lives lost to the mine bombs in your mind, placed there by your mommy and daddy, school teachers, preachers, and televised opium. You kill them off without remorse.


BOOM!


Their gone. they never fit in anyway, they were born disposable to you. Their digressions from your righteous upbringing made them nothing but a hindrance. A hindrance to your salvation. With them gone, getting to heaven wont be an issue. Go home, theres a message on the phone.

"It's John, I just thought I'd call... I know we haven't talked for a while, and... well... Sherley died last night... she O.D.'d on her prescription pills. By the time I found her in the tub with... it was too late... I didn't know she had so many stashed away like that..."

Delete the message, hang up, they are drug addicts, people who would steal and destroy all in order to get what they want. A fix. Or at least thats what you've been told all along by your preacher... by your social norms, to stay away from them. Meanwhile, you hang up on a friend who needed someone to talk to... Before he pulled the trigger.

Merry Xmas America.

[*Lyric by Say Anything]

Dimples

Thing is that I hate you
Thing is that you hate me
Thing is that I forgave you
Thing is that you forgot me.
Thing is that I missed you
Thing is that you dissed me.
Thing is that they conned you
Thing is that I read him like a book.
And it scared him,
he made you push me away.

I had imagined you could see through
the lies and the facades that the drones put up
but even that itself was just another lie
that you fed me.

I had imagined you could awaken something
something beyond the grave
inside the mind and spirit.
Also, that was a lie.

Instead, I only feel disgraced.
Instead, I only feel disgust.
That you shared yourself with me
who had shared themselves with none.
That I had shared myself with you
who had shared themselves with lots.

I the unknowledgeable being
you the giver of wisdom
I still am thankful for this
but feel like it could have been different.
At least I wish I would have known
not to get attached to you
before everything went down
and I went down on you.

I have a bucket full of thoughts

Because it took me a long time, to get back on the train.

Your X-Mas Gift, oh readers...

Is ready and wrapped, set to post on the 24th. I hope you like it.

: - D