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)

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.

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.

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.

ZzZzZzZz

I'm sleepy for once before 7am. I'm gonna pass out, hopefully.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.