A TOAST!

Sleeping in the cold and nauseating commotion of a perpetual impression.
Sleeping session from a concession of confessions to a relentless tormenting regression.
Uncertainty as a principle of validation.
WHAT SAY YOU, EVIL APPARITION!!!

The ground warps these feet while an aura reverberates from the putrid pus of your teat.
A dry wine for us to drown in.

To the corps, to the souls we maim, and to hearts that we have tamed.
For our own iridescence has withered so.
Shall we tread as equals upon the surface of this hell!
forever knowing each others beauty and woe.

Cataclysms count down as gravity holds your hand.
A maelstrom of clay, gore, and abominations wait for this land.

Lo to those confined AND THOSE THAT ROT ASIDE!
To brethren of fratricide and the mutual rapes we hide.
It is here that we shall consummate this pact.

canada 'quits' pipeline bomber hunt

HAH.

http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/features/2010/11/20101111101152807284.html

kinda interestinnnnnnnnnn'.

Parallax Error

I wake in a haze of hungry lips and cigarette smoke.
The foul air within our molding sepulchre stains the walls of my lungs.
An angel bows over my open tomb,
her marriage to religion stronger than a covalence that law has created.
I feel firm breasts pressed against my ribs-she sighs as violent a reaction;
Avarice precipitates from such an event.
speaking through the venomous fog, I whisper through pursed lips
“why are you deploying? “
The gates open but vigilant guards give a mute judgment that screams reluctance.
“do we have to talk about this right now? Its not something I wanna think about. Lets just enjoy the time we have.”
“you’re a coward, Kayla.”
“what the fuck?”
She raises above me, her prayers straddle metaphysical and concrete unions-such a duality shall not be tolerated.
“You know what, you should just go. I don’t need this shit right now-how could you even say that to me? I’m gonna be stuck in that fucking hellhole for twelve months.”
“but you’re CHOOSING to, that’s my point! Why the fuck are you going? You don’t love him.”
The skies roar as storms entrench. the gates shake as they are braced by the armies of Valhalla.
Will they strike down my naked sin?
“Do you know how hard this is? I fucking love you, but what the fuck? How can you expect me to just let my whole life fucking fall apart just for what YOU want? I know, no matter what, your lies will never stop.”
I am exiled from the thought of entering her plane. These tears are my crucifixion, for I am always the catalyst of the carnival.
“why don’t you trust me? I love you.”
“no you don’t! you fucking lie and lie and cheat. that’s all you fucking do and I just put up with it. I’m not gonna lose the only thing I have left.”
“you know what you fear most. And you know what feeds those loving hands.”
“shut the fuck up. I’m not scared of you anymore-I know you.”
Dumb, I have become. Only for a moment am I in disarray.
“this cant be real. You would never understand that.”
“and you’ll never understand this.”

My eyes open and I’m surprised to see Brittney next to me.
I slide from under her grasp, careful not to wake her.
What is happening to me? What the fuck is going on?
The mirror has no response for me today.
I look down at my hands, grasping desperately to the counter.
My arms are shaking.
walking out of the bathroom, I make my way to the apartment window.
I murmur, “looks like its gonna rain again today.”
My stare does not break from the foliage.
Their bark has turned blue but the leaves are black and matted with blood.
The air is stirred from the music between sheets and skin.
“I love you.”
A smile breaks my concentration; I turn to face a beautiful distraction.
“I see you decided to finally wake up.”
“I had a dream about you, ya know.”
“oh really? What happened?”
“I’ll tell you after you fix me breakfast, dearest.”
Her wit and cunning amuses me acutely.
I leap at the chance to rebel.
“AHHHHHHHHHH-GREG!”
As graceful as an earthquake, I land and quickly embrace her cheeks with open palms.
“I’ve missed your sass while you slept.”
“I bet you did-now make me pancakes?”
“only if you’ll let me cover you with aunt jemima”
“that sounds kinky, but I keep imagining you trying to stick me to something…so, no.”
“whatevz.”
I stand high above her, my feet sinking into the soft mattress.
I offer my hand and she accepts.
“lets go make those pancakes.”
“hah.”
“and by the way,”
I hold those cold hands close and send my thanks through seemingly smooth edges.
“I love you too.”
its truly beyond me.

STAND UP

nas is mah nigga.

all deez po po's be lockin up our brothas, ain't that some shit.

ASTRO TURF

prairies laid around the abyss
warm, gentle slopes rise close to the ledge
leading down to a sun stained canyon, my lips plunge off the edge
crashing down smooth skin, falling upon a plateau
strong yet feminine in nature
a platform to sow our seeds

following the strings of a marionette master
exploring this architectural act, curves continue as peaks reveal
caramel areolas, a carousel
saltation tip to tongue

a bow is given and trails are followed
towards the retreat of an ocean, a paradoxical withdrawal
an exploration within two tastes
expiration has been displaced

bad habit.

a lot of the time, I'll wake up in the middle of the night and grab the closest thing i can write on, just to put my thoughts down. sometimes its reciepts, sometimes its philosophy books that make me go back to sleep. I should probably keep a note pad attached to me, literally. I could tie it to my wrist or something.

someone has propagated themselves in my mind, the bastards. I just wrote down some quick stuff so I could write more...well.... right now, at work. hell, its not like I actually have anything to do. not to get off the subject, but the idea to have such a large active duty military is completely rediculous. it exists, in my opinion, to stimulate growth and eliminate stagnation. after all, most cities that the bases are located in would lose TONS of jobs and consumers without them. like the one I'm at. it creates an illusion of actual growth, in my opinion. people pay taxes... to pay me... to buy things in places no one lives... and to make sure that the united states gains more space to do business at.

ANYWAYS, I haven't really looked into it that much to actually know what the fuck I'm talking about. just a bunch of assumptions, I suppose. hmmm. whatever.

she's fucking driving me crazy.

my ADD is raging right now.

oh yeah, i finished the catcher in the rye a few days ago. it was alright. kinda made me feel like I havent grown out of some "stage" yet. i don't know.
so far I've read anthem, the fountainhead, 1984, animal farm, cat's cradle, and those two stupid james frey books again. I don't know what else to waste my time with. any suggestionsaaaaa?
I feel like I've been playing catch up on my literature, since I dropped out of high school. no regrets, though. stupid mother fuckers get institutionalized and get some kind of idea that they're better than you because they went to fucking school. not everyone's sole ambition is to impress everyone around them. I don't need objects of an establishment to tell me I am intelligent or successful. I shall gauge my own accomplishments based off of my desires, not others'.

no more pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaseeeeeee.
I never have an actual subject. my mind is too jumbled.

content

people die.
people kill.
people follow.
people love.
people forget.


everything is fine now.

RIP

in other similar but unrelated news, my fishy died.

I am grieving the loss of large(small mouf? I forget. I honestly just referred to him as fishy wishy when I would poke/feed him) mowfffffff sass. he served my closet well.

you will be missed.

Texas W-4

her demeanor is pressed upon the pores of a valley, listening to the echoes that ring to the bottoms of wells. a vast array that telepathically communicates admiration. vibrations escape the tunnel of her opera, making the hairs stand on end.

you are back.
or am I? a blindfold has presented itself in a manner most degrading, but seemingly trivial. who cares. what matters is what we feel.

what do we feel.

my sun gleams in and across the dew spread between worlds.
her light magnifies through the looking glass of our retrospective.
a war waiting to start. we know the end, but not the means.

"hmmm, I've missed you."
"I've missed you too."
"you still don't love me, do you?"
"wh-what?", her question came as a wave of terror-hopefully not visible upon my face.
"I always knew, you know-that there was someone else-there had to be. you always seemed to be so dazed with-"
"I love you."
"you don't mean that, greg. you never-", my foot found its way to her face; her playful screams and laughs alleviated the weight upon my chest. the torture was over.
"brittany, I've been so preoccupied chasing after ghosts that never existed. I was wrong-listen to me," my hand-feet take hold of her face. she smiles.
so beautiful. that smile, that unique tic of unwarranted veracity and elegance.
she seems so innocent and fluid to me, "I love you but have always been too scared to embrace it-too unsure of its lifespan to give you comfort in my words. I just didn't want to be hurt-I was being selfish."
"its okay, I understand. I've felt that way before, but never with you. I just want you to know that you make me happy and I don't need anything else, I love you."
"hmmm."
ho-hum.
her smile rises above the horizon. in this moment. it fuels what i need.

When It Becomes Clear That The Future From Terminator 2 is Happening:

"Robots everywhere
Only solace in haikus
Now I'm exploding"


thank you, Groupon.

sleep less

the world is upside down.

the ease of your words; the impersonal factor that pierces my skin.
I can't face the fear that follows your footsteps.
I'm sure you're satisfied. I'm sure your high sight stints the reins anchored to the eyes of your diety. bring them to their knees,
just as you've done to those that no longer see.
the world is upside down.
the world is upside down.
the world is upside down.

interesting articlesssssssss

OOOOOOOOOOOOH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Dissent in the age of Obama
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2010/10/2010105104959212813.html

Tickets to the gun show
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2010/10/2010101882610450695.html

US-trained cartel terrorises Mexico
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/features/2010/10/20101019212440609775.html

The Iranian dilemma
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2010/10/2010101862212355822.html

jack bauer, eat your heart out

I have to make tough choices in life alllllll the time. for instance, color schemes:
THE DECISION MAKERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

I was really hoping for the orange n yellerz, but my argument wasn't compelling enough, I suppose :[

I've always said....

back from california and straight into a four day weekend. but my saturday afternoon SUCKED. for one, mah bike conspired against me and then someone stole the lock I threw in a bush. maybees I start from beginningz, yes? so, I woke up, and thought real hard whether or not I should take a shower first ORRR just go straight into a bike eating FRENZAYYYY-afterall, it had been a month since I got a chance to even take mah beautiful cervelo out for a ride-BUT I showered. and showered. and showered. now, before I left I came up with the brilliant idea of taking off one of my water bottle thingies-why? I'm still not too sure. anyways, I got water, and headed out to the cliffs.
I soon realized that my back wasn't used to carrying so much weight AND I was already 62.3% outta water 20 miles out. AHAHAHAHAHA.
I made it though and started heading off some trails. LO AND BEHOLD! a fork in the path presented me with a choice and I chose left. my rear wheel obeyed my commands that I hammered into the pedals-the front decided to rebel.
my chain rings grabbed me by my ankle and let me have it. my precious carbon steed threw me right into the dirt. did I deserve this? I'm sure it comes with the territory of stupidity; its jaws have been locked onto my ass since the ripe age of 4 years old and always had an interesting way to show off the scar. is that a run on sentence? maybe. doesnt matter. I got up, got angry at the teeth marks down my shin and started screaming obscenities at my bike. ofcourse afterwards I swept it for cracks and scratches.
I is WEARY.
after I straightened the handlebars-not thinking of the carbon steerer-I got back on and let it go... right into a giant mud puddle. at first I had no idea why my bike had slowed down until I seen that I didn't have enough clearance between my frame and tire for all the mud I had picked up. FUCK IT. I got off, (screaming again) picked up my bike, flailing it around like a caveman would, then dropped to my knees in self defeat. I was tired, dehydrated,and dirty as fuck. I loved it. except for the ant bites.


well, I decided to turn back and head for the lake to get the mud off. I just laid around and took pictures because I was too lazy to do anything else.

it was a while before I got all the muck off, but I perservered. I got back on after I realized I had a quarter of a water bottle left. I started freaking out cos my lips were really dry. I thought the end was near, even though i woulda been fine with some chap stick. stupid mexican.
I rode back and wheezed up the hills with one shoe on. oh, did I forget to tell that part? well. Ilostacleatsoihadtoridebackwithoneshoeon. there. it sucked, but it was really funny.
I got back on post around 530 and went to get my lock so I could grab some water at the store.
shuffle shuffle.
rustle rustle.
nothing!?
FUCKING NOTHING THERE.
the holy bush, the sanctuary of my bike lock, had been desecrated. it was jihad from that moment. I swear, when I find out who stole my bike lock I'm going to beat them with it. and I WILL find them; not many people ride bikes around here.
anyways, I've learned my lesson-don't put bike locks in holy bushes. people will STEAL them. I'LL FIND YOU, BASTARD!
so, ummm, I rode back (all depressed and shit) to my barracks and could barely stand once I slumped onto the floor. my back gave up on me. just...gave up :[
so I just layed there, all uncomfortable and shit, completely helpless. I was beaten. that whole afternoon was just a giant joke on me.
I need a fucking mountain bike.

CALIFORNIA SUCKS!

When you're in the army.

if a tree falls in a forest and know one's around to hear it, does it still make a sound?

fuck you, cockfungus. who cares? WHY would anyone in their right minds ever ask such a stupid fucking question, anyways? I'd give my life for the opportunity to punch the motherfucker that came up with that-right in their forehead.


I can honestly say I am ashamed, but will endure shame-because I'm alright with selling my soul and being a hypocrite. I wrote a big retarded explanation of it all, then realized how fucking stupid I was being.
"you talk a good one, but don't want it."
I am a part of the weak that feeds off the strong. I am a tool. and I want to be a human again :] yay!
WRONG.
does that really mean anything at all? to be human, is that any different from being a toothbrush? don't read into that too much-but if you do, you'd prolly say to yourself, "he's genius," which is an acceptable conclusion.

am I a user or a tool? does it matter what you call it? if you rely on tools to accomplish what you desire or need, does that not make you-in itself-a tool to meet the objects purpose? one might say an object has no purpose unless given one by a user, though a human can be either one. so there really isn't a difference is there? we have as much purpose, and as much REAL use as, well, everything. human beings are useless. everything on earth is useless. everything in existance is FUCKING USELESS. we have nothing inherent except what is and what we end up shoving up our own ass. if every human being was completely rational, their heads would spontaneously explode. a symphony no one would ever hear.
I think I wanna just say fuck you to everyone on earth, fuck their lovers and daughters, then go jump off a cliff thats not high enough to end me. I think that'd be kind of funny. as agonizing and as fucking pyschopainfulretarded as that sounds, it appeals to me-I've already knocked a couple of those wives and daughters off the list to begin with, and have told approximately .0000001% of the world's population, "eff yoo". its a good start.
but maybe that is too unrealistic of a 4th&goal. being drunk on a boat and getting smacked in the face with an owl-then falling into a river and drowning is more realistic. I almost like that one better. the more pathetic it seems to me, the better. its a great thing-immortal from its conception. being alive is pathetic. its fun, but pathetic nevertheless. completely pointless useless pathetic, but just as poetic.

I'm gonna go drink another gallon of coffee now.

sepiida

its raining.
never thought it would-not here-not now... pretty stupid, right?


hmmm.

the air tastes of concrete, its harsh on my throat. the shelter of the trailer I'm on, wraps around my shoulders-I feel so warm.

you know how much I love the rain.
the sounds, sight, smells.
you know so much about me. I miss you, by the way. it's been a while-and the last time wasn't very ideal.
I have dreams of us drenched from running through the rain, sitting next to each other to keep warm-on the ground, against the wall of my apartments. a draft howling through the front door, we huddle and wait for the wind to stop. the relief of warmth returns. the dying sunflowers strain and become unstrained with the laughs and squeels of the children in the court yard.
we don't talk.
we just sit-I stare at the death-you watch our toes. they overlap one another, your big toe beating down on my pinky. I lean my head on to yours and the rivulets of the st. johns absorbs my weary mind. the smell of the parched pavement is overwhelmed by the essence of your waves. as I sink down to your bottom, like I have so many times before, the thrashing from the storm becomes muffled-and an afterthought.
I close my eyes, and we sit.
we sit there and we sit there and we stay there. the rain does not stop. it does not let up. but I am safe in your currents. I am safe in the grips of our toes.
I am safe and warm and calm, and I am happy to be.
in the darkness of the skies in the darkness of the night, dreaming-in the darkness of your watersmeetingcoolpristinebeautifulmesmerizingspringblue. springblue. the source from which your murky waters flow. pureclearblue to wateroakbrown. I'll never tire of stirring your waters.
at night. in day. under trees. in rain. in heat. in snow. in sand. in dreams. in blankets. in hand. in truth: I feel at peace.

there's no reason to leave.

Paguroidea.

A Million Little lies-no longer on paper, but in a calcareous complexion.

"I stare at her, let my smile fade it won't fade inside. I have never felt so safe or calm. This hard, damaged, drug-Addicted Baddass Girl sitting in front of me with her black hair and her braided pigtails and her clear water blue eyes and her scars her scars the scars on her wrist naked beneath a plastic watch makes me feel safe and calm."

a story absent of quotes and reality-true to its nature. but not you.

you are but a parasite, taking refuge. an outcast. a fat girl. an unloved daughter. you adapted an identity to feed off of to feed off of those around
-it.

it, thats what you are. thats what you've become. sold-out for the safety of others-those that care less about you, but atleast pretend to. they build the walls of your cancerous shell.
you're no deeper than the puddles of blood, that litter the dark alleyways of this mind.
try as you might, those who care to peek, shall see behind the lies, the pages, the lines. behind the surface scars and see what really hurts.
who you are is not wanted. who you are is never you. you exist to live as others, in others you need to see-that maybe someone will love you accept you-no interest in how you're vain.

its almost empty, you know. your tank is running low. which identity will be next? which victim will you perplex-duplexed in how to free the mind of a constant crippling rhyme?

why...lie?
why...lie?
why...lie?

I might have called it selfish, boy, how I was wrong.
you'd have to know IbetterthanThey, to posess some sort of self.

so read what you desire to be, absorb the typed syntax, adapt its DNA-to display in your house of wax.

19 something.

its 0539 in florida. 0439 in texas.
0239 here. I have five more hours on shift.
I am bare.
I am irritable.
I am anxious to know these mountainsvacantskiesandshamelesscreatures.
four more hours and the world shall turn upside down.

you have to see it.
standing on a starless sky. a glowing emptiness to dissolve in.

two more weeks.

my lips are cracked from god's clay kiln.
no moisture escapes these eyes-not these days or those ahead.

the grand canyon stands tall, I'm sure it does.
maybe one day we'll see it's hues
-like everett ruess and his navajo wife.
some would say a backdrop... in absentia of life.
I think we know better.

one day we'll go back.

and carve our names;
let our existance be known.
This is our sanctuary,
Our home, our world.
It belongs to us.
Regardless of the ground from which it sprung,
In spite of the sun that reaches its shade.
Our love has encased Haven from rains that follow.
its creator-the earth.
Your submission under me conquered its terrain.
I’ve destroyed lips that warrant worship.
scarred knees, quaint as the clouds.
filled your body, to vanquish that thirst.
a thirst for slavery.
you are mine.
And this ours.

I come inside her, we lay on our bed of blankets and grass. the body heat dissipating and the cold creeping in. I hold her.
she looks into my begging eyes,
"there is this world,"
and my hand trails to the echoes of civilization,
"and then there is that world."
her eyes follow the direction, the words are picked up by a breeze of trangression.
"this is my domain. here, now, with you at my side. it is Being. but, see,
you belong to both places-and not simultaneously.I have been cast out from the simple act of exhaling. everything that has become you is rooted in that world. I cannot take you from which you grow. you will be left to stagnate and starve, with me as your witness. you've known this, always. though you act as if this polarity is of no importance-that our fractured meetings in time are sewn together, seamlessly."
her nose nestles into the valley of my chest. my hands are cold, and my heart fights to be nearer.

truth.

I lay their on my cot, the world, and the people in it, unwelcomed. absorbed into the pages of idealism and desired history that should have been present in time. now. here. always. I'm struck in the head-in the moment-the future already known. a tennis ball had planted itself to the left side of my head. I didn't know how to respond except to overdramatize the pain. they laughed. I laughed. uneasy and hurt in my pride. I got up after a few minutes of moaning and groaning, picked up the ball and made aware its existence that ceased in my grasp.
"give me the ball, delgado."
"fuck you."
the struggle that ensued was not neccessary, but only existed to meet one's own delusion of superiority-and my submission.
"give it back"
it pings off my chest.
I walk toward the laughs. the pride that fuels my torment;the fury.
the anger flushes through my extremities and channels itself into a fist.
firmly on his face.
silence.
silence.
the tears well up in his eyes, more is hurt than his body.
pride. security. establishment.
anarchy in one's mind has reared its intent.
I am not to be taken lightly.

I am not afraid of anyone, but myself.

Francon.

"Roark, I can accept anything, except what seems to be the easiest for most people: the halfway, the almost, the just about, the in-between. They may have their justifications. I don't know. I don't care to inquire. I know that it is the one thing not given to me to understand. When I think of what you are, I can't accept any reality except a world of your kind. Or atleast a world in which you have a fighting chance and a fight on your own terms. That does not exist. And I can't live a life torn between that which exists-and you. It would mean to struggle against things and men who don't deserve to be your opponents. Your fight, using your methods-and its too horrible a desecration. It would mean doing for you what I did for Peter Keating: lie, flatter, evade, compromise, pander to every ineptitude-in order to beg of them to let you live, to let you function, to beg them, Roark, not to laugh at them, but to tremble because they hold the power to hurt you. Am I too weak because I can't do this? I don't know which is greater strength. To accept all this for you-or to love you so much that the rest is beyond acceptance. I don't know. I love you too much."

unwanted vacation

so, in less than six hours I will be on my way to california to sit in the mojave desert for a month. why? i'm not too sure, but I brought enough books to keep me company. Hopefully, i'll have enough free time to sit back and read them all.

I'm really not sure if I'll be able to post for a while-which is really frustrating. I guess I'll have to find some other outlet to vent.

stop.

just stop. if you knew me, you'd know.
it ain't you no more, girl.
move on like you claim you have; can't you see?
your problems don't have a space in my life.
crush what assumptions you keep, 'cause there's no room for you here.
that ego of yours proves thick, how unfortunate.

I have this overwhelming desire

to tell you I love you.
that i love you a hundred million times over.
it won't end and its okay.
my chest is tight-keeps tryin to push my heart through my throat. I guess it has alot to say that my mind just can't grasp right now.
after all, my brain thinks to much and has nothing but caution to greet my tongue.
my heart beats a tune that my mouth can move to. they sing duets when I feel you're presence. damn it's intense. a part of me wants it to pass, the other side wants to know what follows. does anything follow? perhaps not, but its too enchanting to give up hope.

I'm headin to california in just a little over a week. god damn. and this song won't stop playing in my head.

california stars

I'd like to rest my heavy head tonight
On a bed of California stars
I'd like to lay my weary bones tonight
On a bed of California stars

I'd love to feel
Your hand touching mine
And tell me why
I must keep working on

Yes I'd give my life
To lay my head tonight on a bed
of California stars

I'd like to dream
My troubles all away
On a bed of California stars

Jump up from my starbed
Make another day
Underneath my California stars

They hang like grapes
On vines that shine
And warm the lovers' glass
Like friendly wine

So I'd give this world
Just to dream a dream with you
On our bed of California stars

I'd like to rest my heavy head tonight
On a bed of California stars
I'd like to lay my weary bones tonight
On a bed of California stars

I'd love to feel
Your hand touching mine
And tell me why
I must keep working on

Yes I'd give my life
To lay my head tonight on a bed
of California stars

I'd like to dream
My troubles all away
On a bed of California stars

Jump up from my starbed
Make another day
Underneath my California stars

They hang like grapes
On vines that shine
And warm the lovers' glass
Like friendly wine

So I'd give this world
Just to dream a dream with you
On our bed of California stars

So I'd give this world
Just to dream a dream with you
On our bed of California stars

(woody guthrie wrote it, but I've only heard mistuh bragg sing it.)

I got an essay to write, but....

a giant gold fish bowl.
blue hues; the cold infused...
browns surround-a monochrome compass.
lackluster green holds the trees to a plastic only seen on christmas.
the white's been tread by blinded men, no hose could wash away their sins.
lets make it burn.
taste the char upon my lips?
its the ash, in every breath.







a hand trembles with power; not to create or destroy,
but to change.
from paper to poems, then those lines to soot.
all is permanent in existence, although not in state.

if something I write originated in my mind(did it?), does the thought also follow the same rules as what has been written? does it take up space? is it real? can it be measured? can it be lost? how about ruined? one thing's for sure, it can change mediums. a thought can find itself on paper only to rot away into some other form; lost and irretrievable. just like my mind. ha. but seriously, not really.
I'm in a rambling mood, like always...

IN THE YEAR 2013.

its becoming increasingly difficult to hide my emotions about my employer... yesterday I pretty much ended my job in public affairs-prolly goin back to S-6. no tellin how long this whole army thing is gonna last, in general.I'm hoping i'll make it to the end of my contract. just gotta keep tellin myself that this will pay off in the end, but fucking god DAMN. damn damn damn FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKITYFUCK. fuck. I need a kitten-or a bunny. something cute and soft to calm me down. too bad I'm only allowed to have a fish. WHY WHY WHYYYYYYYYYYY am I nagging so much lately? I almost feel like there's all this pentup anger building from every little insignificant rule that holds me back. I once heard that all the free men(and women) are the ones in prison. there's a reason they were confined; was it because they are bad people or rebellious in nature? maybe a lil bit of both?...????? am I bad person for wanting to do whatever I wish? or does it make me a bad person for NOT doing what ever i want? kinda pointless to ask-since its up to me to answer... jeez, I'm psycho.

persian flavored

apparently the army can force you to do lots of things. for instance, it can force you to create a facebook page-in the name of public affairs. fucking bastards. i'ma pee in somone's coffee tomorrow.

censorship sucks.

:[

california stars seventeen chimes

its a great new day, darling.
a great new morning full of prospects, stars, and soon-sunshine.
hold your head up high and sing! sing, sing, sing-cos one day I'll be close enough to hear. and one day I'll be able to sweep you off your feet.
again.
again, again, and again, and I'll never ever, ever stop staring my past into your heart. we'll fill eachother up til our belts are undone.
your helpings of compassion drive me.
you are the dew on my brow. a beautiful waking to everyday-momentary, but a glimpse of whats to come.
no mountain could stop me from gazing from freckle to freckle.
no ocean could drowned out the sound of your mighty seal roar.
and no gunfire, no explosions, no blood, no death will make me forget what matters most. life is nothing but a game with out you.
nothing's real with out you.
bring the peace, babe. bring that song loud and high. language becomes a thing of the past. A new beginning, free of hatred and deceit!
replaced with honest eyes and a voice of silk. sing, sing, sing so the world'll see!
in surprise they'll know-oh, they'll know. that love is what matters.
no matter how fleeting.
show them all, not just me.
I always told you, remember? you're a gift not limited to me.
you're not mine to cage, but I'll always, always, always
be there to open a door for you to fly.

believe me, I spout nonsense. I spout overplayed words and lines.
but does that make them any less mine?
I support a living idea.
someone's gotta keep it goin-and I'll always be a someone.

generation to generation, we've all got our ways.
mine happens to be through you.

dream dream dreams, come my way. I'll keep my banter behind my eyes and on the tip of a pen. for you and who ever cares to see.
cos I realized, it doesn't just have to be you and me.

come to this place.

down, down, down.










to where our souls feed.

the sand gives way.
our foot steps are hidden by the oaks that overhang.
theres an old boat that's been left to decay in the waters of the lake. its bow stands mightly above the water's murky reach.
the small waves reach our toes.
I speak.
one day all of this will be gone. I hope I'm not alive to see it.
she doesn't say a word, just clears her throat. her hair is untamed and soft. reminds me of a lions mane. her skin blends with the bleached sand.
her eyes meet god in the sky.
can we stay here?
depends on how long you have in mind.
I want to go further. get lost. from the boats, the litter, the cars, the voices, the airplanes, helicopters, and away from the sun. deep into the jungle where the trees make their home.
we walk. I slash. we enter.
the oaks and palms tower high above us. the magnolias, in bloom, fill the thick air with their magnificent perfume. this is where we are meant to survive. the sun's rays struggle against the foilage to make their mark upon the forest floor. ponds and small canals flow through the endless field of ferns.I've entered a cavern that glows a spectrum of greens. no darkness could hide its beauty.
I wish I was high right now.
no darkness.
why?
because I'd prolly go insane and end up getting eaten by an alligator.
no darkness could hide this-she laughs.
um. what?
the colors. they change. from neon, to drab. its like looking through a kaleidoscope.
sooo... where does the alligator come in?
the ticks. I can feel them on my legs.
OH MY GOD, WHAT?
I just imagine if I was high, I'd probably end up flailing in the lake.
...can we go now?
hold on.
I try to take it all in. my home. this is where I belong.
our species started here. then we imagined power. we imagined control. we imagined superiority.
we became lost in a lucid dream.
now we are ruled by gods that we buy, elect, or worship; ruled by gods that we aspire to be.
can we go now?
yeah. lets go.
all there is in prison, is darkness. might as well dream.

8 years

i woke. walked outside. the dream continued.
they've started again. just about a week ago or so.
dreams.
I'm not sure if I like them. they're random, but so life-like. some long, some short.
some of her, some of people I don't know-or remember well.
A part of me feels content with a bit of motivation returning to me, but another side of me feels uneasy and scared. some of the dreams remind me of my old life. I don't need that person returning. maybe its too late? I guess time will tell.

im not a writer.

fragrance worth searching for.
a beauty worth picking.
a chase worth pursuing. hmmm.

I cannot put this weekend into words. I would only tarnish its beauty.

our mutual self-destruction

without the experience of suffering; with out struggle...
we cease to care for those who do. every day.

how ignorant so many are of the consequences.

no more.

everything is falling apart.

everyone.
those I see, touch, and know are crumbling in between the minutes-I'm so tired of searching through every moment to reconstruct. brittany is gone. breezes picked up and dispersed the ashes. nothing left to rub on gritted teeth. nothing left to fuel the rage. life's image has revealed itself to me on a cross. hung out for those to make a mockery of-and for me-to feel nothing. there is no love, nor dreams worth fighting to preserve, only lies. self preservation and self interest. living for myself reminds me how much I despise who I am-and everyone who cherishes it... or atleast pretends. you are there, lying in bed alone in his arms. which reality is truth? the seemingly false letters streaming from smooth lips? or the fact that you let him inside-where its been said only I belong?
both? that seems like a bullshit answer you'd give.
mother fucker. when I see you, it won't matter. it won't last.

this cigarette burns too fast.
the ashes flutter like flak in a war torn starry sky. gleaming death falls upon my thigh.
fuck, it stings. a scar-a plea-a reminder of times passed wasting away to burning down the memories sunk gracefully to the bottom of an oil slick body of bodies of bodies.when will I look up from this painful reverie?
my feet know best, they always serve as a trustworthy guide.
walk, walk, walk, just-just no more talk.

randomstuffIwritefromstaringatthegroundtoolong.

dried photosynthesized souls of a perplexed youth.
kill my dreams, fears, and fooled files of reciepts.
dandelions pressed between teeth-eyes filled from beauty underneath.
ants cross canyons, their path predetermined from forces unknown.
hate to say, but I told you so.
hate to say it, but I told you so.

trapped suns from gaze to glance, shadows fall and blend.
this rule will never bend-nor break.
a love which you can fake? hah.
we are no fools.

we are no fools.

American Idol

Ghosts of tired delusions stain the bed sheets. I can taste the salts in my mouth. It makes me want it more. Want to peer through my face? We can all take a closer look. A circus masquerade, a fitting freak show for my captive audience.

Do it. Fucking do it. Recoil operated words will pierce though this mirrored image of disgust. Got greasy palms from holding my head too long-suppose these worn finger tips of mine might slip upon the trigger? A memetic inheritance shall leak through my eyes, mouth, nose, and ears. Subconscious scripts of viral information will run rampant through your system of absolutes and discrepancies. sleep and routine will never cease to be tainted with impermanence.

A pardon from this paradox? Never.

Body parts strewn across your perfect breasts; blood pools around iris barriers, fighting maelstrom force waves from entering the gates to a world full of hatred, hunger, and fury.

My mind is a run on sentence run on moment run on life that won’t end too late too soon. Today is not the day. Your steel is warm now; my ferrous clenched hands have met your welcome half way. I don’t think you’ll see the light of day for a while.

Cut cold from a date soiled by holy urine and pepper spray, I think this won’t feel that bad. The skies hold hues from false gods and millions dead. I see their faces as my worn shoes tread this ground. Sorry for not saying hello, everybody.

Feet kept in line, in step, I’m fine. Really am. The grass bows and wilts under the unforgiving sun and its suppressing army of solar radiation and gusts of terror. Rain on me, fuckers, I don’t care; cancer for the mind, for the sole, for the lord.

Why won’t it end?

The music is playing in her eyes and it’s eating my insides to the tune of a chemical melody. Every note strikes chords with the monotonous beat of my heart.

Stop harmonizing.

Sacrifice your blood for the sake of mankind-for me. Mix this sheet of predictable behaviors, please. I take my stride to a different cadence; every day, every lifetime-a reincarnation of our sins and ripping seams. Time to retire this old thing-old life; old line. Maybe it’s TIME to live by another cheesy quote. Words that don’t belong to me-or you, or anyone alive.

This walk seems to never end. I guess that’s how it goes without a proper destination. Aimlessly through this desert of skeletons, I’ll hide my pride in a sea of sand. Here and there, I’ll bury it shallow; the caving walls prevent anything further. I don’t have anything left; I’ve been stripped bare. I’ll take your pills and empty advice-keep me sedated, keep me alright. Make me whole? I’ll pay the price. She won’t come back, I fucked up more times than I’d like. The guilt is here and the pain won’t subside. My mistakes and fears will never settle. I’ve got the solution but no time to divulge. Goodbye, goodnight, sad settlers of this instant-I’ve got a date to entertain; a needle for my veins.

I should be home right now.
fuck.

I really do.

we woke up hungover, me with a black eye and some nasty gashes.
saw shamu. got splashed by shamu.
dazzled at all the hot scene chicks on fixed gears in austin. went to emo's. that place reminds me of home so much.
experienced the pink monkeyyyyyyyyyyy. I never knew how fun strip clubs could be. plus there's naked and "empowered" women everywhere.
everywhere.
I like this.
time for a shower and a nap before my bike ride :]
adios.

karma collisions.

everybody says I'm better.
maybe they're right-in more ways then they ever meant.

mandatory fun.

i drove with bradley and taylor to the event at BLORA (belton lake outdoor recreation area; the army abbreviates everything). it was a relaxing ride their-bradley's daughter introduced me to turtle bubbles. cool.
when I got there, I got strange looks-as usual-because of the way I dress. honestly I can't deny the fact that i like the attention. I walk up to perez, robles, moore, and berry who are setting up the PA system.
"LEMME GET THE MIC."
"hell no, guy."
perez finally gave in after I explained my undying love for karaoke.
I sung that catfish song, which was well recieved by my peers. but the inevitable happened-and I was replaced with rap music. sigh.

we were there to wish a few people a fairwell, since they were transitioning from military life to civilian. it was nice.


the lake had a veil of mist, protecting it from the early sun. there were low laying clouds rising over the tree covered mountains-and cliffs. all I wanted to do was walk the earth-like jesus.
nobody felt the same, though... which inevitably left me feeling homesick for those who would've understood my desires.
everyone showed up and we speculated on which ladies had the nicest boobs and asses. I wish I could write everything down, but even I have limits to what i can and cannot say...

fuckin afghans.

this dream hasn't been clear in over a week.
"hey, you wanna go for a ride?"
"on your bike?"
"no, in your car. smartass."
"where to?"
"we'll see, I guess. wanna see if clara wants to come?"
"you sure?"
"yeah."
"okay."
I can hear the currents flowing. the rocks refusing to give way. I don't want to be made smooth, don't shear my rough edges.
she talks with such enthusiasm, how could she when I'm around? its surprising how anyone can sustain my eradic personality.
"you ready?"
"hold on."
I take the rest of my uniform off and reach for my shorts. she comes to me.
"you are a gift."
"what?"
"you are a gift."
"why do you say that?"
"I just feel like-I don't really appreciate you as much as I should. you do alot for me."
"I love you, greg."
I kiss her cold lips and slide my shorts on. her eyes drift else where, to a corner of the room.
"you okay?"
"yeah, I'm just thinking."
"should I call the MPs?"
"NO. shut up."
"come on. lets go-is clara coming or not?"
she sighs and looks down at my shoes, kicking them over to me
"yeah, she's gonna meet us out front."
the locker door seals. my woes are safe from sunshine.
we make our way down the all too familiar steps and walk the all too familiar path to the lot. clara is waiting in her car, with a baffled look on her face.
"where we goin?"
"good question, ask him."
"we're taking you're car then, I'm not using MY gas."
I can't stand that fucking girl-she gets on my nerves more than any other. although, she fills empty space quite well, with that mouth that never ceases.
"so olsen, where we goin?"
"you know, you can call me by my first name."
"I know. olsen."
"forget it. britt, just drive towards the wash rack-"
"why are we going there?"
"WE AREN'T. I just-just drive."
the red lights were bipolar fits of rage, involving a pattern of fluctuations between clara's annoying voice and lil wayne's. sometimes it seemed to fit.
we headed out the gate and the flowers ran at our sides.
I roll down the window and hang myself to dry. I can see her smiling, and I can smell them replying.
"so olsen, any idea where we're going yet?"
"yep."
"where, babe?"
"I'll tell you when to stop."
"oh my god. I HATE when you do this-please don't expect me to slam on my brakes like that trip to pet smart."
"don't worry, I'll give you fair warning."
the turns fill my head and the hills overwhelm my heart. I wish you could see this.
we pass a truck on the side of the road.
"STOP!"
"what?!"
"STOP STOP STOP!!"
she pulls over after we pass a small bridge-I can tell she's agitated. oops.
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT."
"I'm sorry?"
"IS IT THE RIVER? THAT WERE YOU WANTED TO GO?"
"mhm."
"WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST TELL ME?!"
"because! I wanted it to be a surprise! its more exciting."
I can hear clara laughing over brittany's persistent wailing. it makes me forget how frustrated she really is.

I get out of the car cautiously, watching for passing trucks. I make my way along the outside of the guard rail and down the grassy hills. I can hear it past the trees.
"where are you going?!"
"just come here!"
"wait!"
they carefully trot behind me, daintily and calculating each step-it makes me laugh.
"what?"
"nothing, you're just fucking cute."
"...I know."
she smiles and her eyes glow with the tree's new leaves.
the sun drips.
her gaze fills my mind as we head towards the roaring waters.
I wonder if she'd enjoy this? would she do this with me? would I be any happier? just stop thinking.
I come to a halt before I can even pass the trees. its a drop of about 15 feet; don't think we'll be going down this way...
"what's wrong?"
"um.. we can't get down this way."
"why not?"
"look for yourself."
I miss your fragrance, girl.
"holy shit, thats high."
"we can just walk down underneath the bridge."
"okay."
its steep concrete, and the tension is high. get out of my fucking head.
"GREG. WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"
"I don't wanna get your car wet."
I sit with my feet in the water, as I pull my clothes off.
"PUT THEM BACK ON."
"no."
"yes."
"make me."
clara watches as brittany follows me into the creek. I walk backwards and taunt her with my shorts above my head.
"GREG. PUT THEM BACK ON."
"no."
she falls over constantly from the awkward surface and the rush of cold water. I run up on shore and throw my clothes on a log.
"greeeeeeeeeeeeg! please put them back on."
I carefully make my way in and get clara from the other side,; she gets on my shouders and laughs.
"thanks, I really didn't know I'd need a bathing suit."
"you don't!"
"nah, I'm good. people can see you, yah know."
"I don't care."
as I'm watching my footing I look up. fuck.
"you don't wanna wear clothes like normal people, asshole? well then."
FUCK. DON'T.
"FETCH."
she winds back and I can't help but react. I release clara from my grips and drop her in. she screams. I trudge through the waters and start swimming after my fleeing garments. thankfully, they were caught by a branch.
"YOU ASSHOLE. OH MY GOD. I can't believe you threw me!"
"I didn't throw you, clara."
"oh my god-yes, you did."
brittany laughs and I smile. we have good times, but for some reason, when I look up from my own two feet, all I can do is wish you're here. why is that? maybe roseanne barr will appear in a vision.
apparently she holds many answers.

no.

aerial archaeology.

vertical highway along a coked up sidewalk.
chalk-chalk-chalk lined lips, don't talk to me.
watch the keys fall as my heels touch down.
the distance is there, the feelings all frown.
believe me yet? you'll trip on lies
til you take your head out'the skies-just watch the cracks.
watch the cracks leading up to our end.
you keep saying there's much to defend.
how is it? that you live it? this lie that we've tamed?
-for you've framed me in this perfect picture to snippet.

forrest gump and buddhas.

I snuck out for a run-hung my jacket in a tree and launched. the lightning created a perfect backdrop to my soundtrack. I eventually took my shoes off and started running barefoot. I could feel the dew from grass between my toes-it alleviated the burning from my blisters. my chest was tight and I felt alive for the first time in a while. I walked over to the canopy of greenery, grabbed my jacket, and plopped on the ground. flourescent lights, from a distant stadium, lit the leaves up like christmas lights. I stared up as the mosquitos swarmed my legs. I didn't care. it was nice to get away. too bad that everything's so fucking temporary.

the lights dimmed.
your eyes blacked out beneath the lense.
keep close, don't stray too far.
the screen flickers and the shadows dance.
I love you. don't go.
the sounds of death fill the cold stale air.
it rushes out and steals the trust.
the blood rushes down your face and for that moment
you are gone.
can't live like this.
no one understands what I've seen and what I know.
please. someone. anyone. make me forget death's empty stare.

can't sleep.

can't dream. can't write. can't draw. can't breathe. can't talk. can't see.

but I can eat.

OM NOMNOMNOMNOMNOM.

post nasal drip.

as I threw on clothes that smelled alright, she never stopped texting me, and asking what was up.
I'm walking to the store. I got a lot on my mind.
you want a ride?
no, I need to walk.
can I come?
it never fails how she must tag along to everything.
I grabbed my wallet, keys, ipod, and phone. unlocked the door and she was there. staring into my eyes. dark gleaming pools in the midnight shadows. she is beautiful and comforting-even when I wish to be alone. she smiled that smile that I know too well. I put my headphones in and stared down at my feet as I turned around to lock the door.
click.
every step I take, I watch the ground give way.
whatcha listening to?
you've prolly never heard of them.
just tell me?
death cab for cutie.
that sounds emo-and gay. I'm just kidding. can I listen?
no.
I'm sorry! please?
I look up from my trance, stop dead in my tracks. there she is beside me. warm, soft, loving.
here.
it sounds really sad...
its not, it makes me happy.
its really pretty though.
I know. it means alot to me-the words.
what are they about?
distance.
okay...
I let her keep one in her ear and I take back the other. we stay close and she laughs at how I slouch over her.she makes me happy, there's no arguing that-I just don't know why i can't be content with the fact.
look at the parade field, its beautiful.
I didn't know flowers bloomed at night...
come on.
what? why?
I pulled the headphones and stuffed them in my jacket pocket. I grabbed her hand and dragged her along. it was beautiful. the gentle yellow petals danced in the wind; no strong trees to guard them from its strength. I layed down as she hovered over me.
she giggled. it made me smile.
what are you doing?
watching the clouds go by. we've got a captive audience tonight.
we smile. she sits next to me and grabs onto my hand
I love you.
hmm.
fine! don't say it back, but I'm not gonna stop!
okay.
I love you.
she laid back and kept on with a barrage of questions. I put my head phones in and tried to drown her out. I turned my head to watch the little flowers lean in every direction.
are you even listening to me? ray. RAY. DELGADO!!
WHAT?
she toppled over me and held down my wrists.
I'm talking to you.
I can see that.
so maybe you should try and listen?
no. i got a lot on my mind. i just don't feel like talking about it right now.
okay.
she kissed me and laid back down next to me. a look of dissappointment swept over her face. and guilt clouded over my mind.
fuck.

smokescreen opera

I love you, she said.
“I love you and don’t worry, you’ll be fine…I’ll be home soon enough, okay baby?”
She wraps her lips around me and looks up.
“okay. I love you too, it’s just that- I just wish I coulda came with you.”
I’m the only one coming, you idiot.
“mmmmhm-I know baby. I gotta go, baby-Clara needs me.”
I shoved my dick in her mouth in between those broken sentences. She said goodnight and hung up before he could reply, I pulled her head back and came onto her freckled cheek. She smiled.
“mmmmm baby, I love it when you come on my face. I love your taste.”
“hmmp.”
Fucking slut.
“Can we take a shower now?”
“Greg.”
“what?”
“I loooove youuuuu.”
“I love you too, now can we wash the sex off? I smell like straight up vagina.”
she giggles as the come drips off her chin.
“okay, baby.”
He drifted along her words for so long. He never wants to fall, but doesn’t even realize that’s what he’s been doing since she said yes. Michael didn’t make her feel wanted, but he gave her the security she craved-a feeling of control-the fact that she can create a relationship. A public performance for everyone to witness. An act that she can take a break from whenever she feels. He loves her and will never leave. Brittany told me he’s never even so much as kissed another girl before. He reminds me of myself from another time.

Kind of sad. I remember when we went to Corpus Christi and she told him that her mother was sick. He wanted to come with her, but she had said that it was best if she went alone. In reality her parents didn’t even stay there in the winter. We went down there and fucked in every possible nook and cranny. She lies to him so much, but doesn’t keep anything from me. I used to think it was because she wasn’t afraid to lose me. I’ve since come to believe that she knows that she never had me. He, on the other hand, has this beautiful story that’s told to him every night before he lays his head to rest-she loves him and wants to be with him forever-It puts his weary head at rest and puts a smile on his face. She so desperately wants that to make her happy. She wants to be passionate about something. Someone. She just can’t.
I hope I don’t end up like that. Passion is what fuels us to transcend the boundary we create for ourselves. These days it seems to be a scarce resource…

lol.

so I've finally brought myself to believe, or rather... have a lack of belief in love, purpose, free-will, god, honesty, monogomy, social science, and people. I've become almost like a fucking loon/misanthrope/nihilist. don't care about living. don't care about the economy. don't care about society. don't care about myself. dont care about relationships. don't care about choices. can't really think about anything that really matters to me-to believe in. hope i find something. maybe I should stop being so fucking skeptical, but that would entail being a naive,narcissus-esque, ignorant buffoon... like everyone in my life. fuck. that. I'd rather die a miserable, alone, old man.

engineer

I need it.
but you keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep hid.
she won't, so I'll keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep close.
you provide this horrid reflection,
but in the other's eyes, I sense their satisfaction.

and thats enough to draft this fucked contraption.

in reality

liesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesliesin reality, we are all the same.

playtime on beresford

the eyes have it. we won't see this land. we wont see this grand delusion of schemes-of grime. we'll just do the time. do the fucking time.
lets not go far or plan ahead. lets just seek out the inevitable end.
its coming now, as we sit here and play. there's no use hiding, you can't be molded like clay.

step up. step in.

the untold lies we live...

we are aware of eachother's secrets
-through the telepathy our insecurities have grown.
in swearing this dishonesty, with our minute cold clues;
we have entrusted passageway for our mistakes to brew.

I see what you try to hide, from others while at my side.
and I read you like a book, from mountain tops afar.
this cycle of deceit will never say goodbye.

your wall is built of flirtations, pictures, quotes, and lies.
when will you decide to take it down? I promise you a surprise.
for size, I'll give you compassion;
for treachery, I'll give you love;
for construction, I'll give you truth.
it is something you must choose.

or atleast discover.

you shook.

"you talk a good one, but don't want it."

-mobb deep.

so here's your spectacular send off.

Hours, minutes, seconds. Every moment that passes by is not recognized.
I am stressed, weary, and confused. So unsure of everything I believe and trust.
It’s just so fucking hard to rely on anything these days-even my own convictions, it seems...
Fuck it. I’m getting out of here.
It’s bad when the door seems so much freer from the inside. Maybe I need help? No time. Got to leave.
I take my bag and walk past the sink, but something catches my attention. I backtrack and stare into my empty eyes, through the mirror and past the drywall. I’m alive. I think. I grab my notepad-shove it in my bag.

“This should be it.”

Everything seems ready-I know I am. Slip my shoes on and slide past the door. Instantly the winter breeze nips at my legs and fingertips. I don’t mind though; soon enough I’ll be in the passenger seat of a car, just trying to ignore the numbing sensation of my ass.
As I come to the bottom of the stairs, I notice Brittany waiting for me; her smile is warm and I can feel it on my face.

“You got everything; clothes, deodorant, toothbrush…condoms?”
“I got everything”
“you-”
“yeah, let’s just go.”

Corpus Christi. I’m pretty sure that’s where Selena was from...I hope the gulf is as beautiful as this bitch makes it out to be. I need a distraction.
I help Brittany put her things in the back of her Kia, while she blabbers on about how she wishes I would drive half the way. Fuck that. I’m already a liar, don’t want to add death to my conscience’s piling list of issues…

“Wanna stop to get somethin to eat?”
Drive, bitch.
“Well?”
“Nah, I’m good, babe. Can we just get a move on? I don’t wanna get there too late.”
“Well, I’m hungry. I’m just gonna stop at the shopette to get something and buy gas, okay?”

Sigh. The next time she masks her own desires for a concern I’m going to drive-right into a wall. I hate how you get to know some people and it just seems to be a burden.

We pull up and park. She leaves the keys in the ignition, to my surprise, and steps out into the clusterfuck. I wait impatiently, wondering what she’ll end up buying. Did she really believe I brought condoms? Let alone any other thing that would lead to her on top of me… I hope so.
I see her hair flicker in the sun as she exits out the shopette. She is a beautiful girl, but nothing more. She catches my stare and meets it with contentment.
Opening the door and throwing the bag into the back, she sits down and looks at me.

“I love you.”
I smile a fake smile and meet her half way.
“I love you too, baby. Now, can we GO NOW?”
“Mmmhm!”

About two hours in, my butt cheeks got to the point of predicted numbness.
I ignore her texts. I turn off my phone.
Fuck. This could be worse; she could be talking to me. That’s one thing I do appreciate about Brittany, no problem with silences.
As we kept passing the same monotonous scenery, I came to ponder out loud-big mistake.

“Could everything we live be a painting that is changing instantaneously?”
“…WWWHAT?”
“ Time, as we perceive it, could just be an illusion of what happens to only be one moment-where everything is and always has been. Maybe there is no real differentiation between me and the seat I appear to be sitting at in this very moment. “
“what ar-“
“And god-what if god is this moment? This moment that has no definite beginning or end. That everything we see, hear, know, want, touch, love, hate, deny, embrace is god.
Not a being. No deity, but this. “
“Uhhhhh-“
“God is a product of our observations and reactions to those observations. We may never know what fuels our reality because it is nothing but a part of ourselves-of an all encompassing, singular moment that we cannot look outside of. God is this epic poem of explanations, and excuses for the unknown, that we call life.”
“Wow, Greg. Where the hell did all that come from? I swear you have the most random fucking thoughts.”
She chuckles. I want to fucking hurt her so bad.
“Where’s my note…pad…”
“Well, where’d you put your bag, Einstein?”
“Will you shut the fuck UP?”
“What the fuck is your problem? I’m just playing with you; I swear sometimes you act really fucking weird.”

Silence. Finally.

Myyy-realityyy-is-yourrrsss-it's-just-changinggg-too-fassst-for-us-to-rrrealize.
There; all written down in the volumes of my yellow paper. Most of my thoughts are fleeting, I either have to write or draw if I want to hold onto them.

Brittany and I don’t exchange words for a while. Minutes pass us by; they disappear in the rearview mirror. After about an hour, I apologize for what I said. She didn’t say anything back, just kinda smirked and put her hand on mine. I felt better.

It took five and a half lifetimes to get to this fucking city. I can’t feel my legs-or my bladder. It seems I have aged 60 years in a matter of hours…hmmn. What a predicament. Brittany is stressing over the directions to her parent’s rental home. I’m just laying back, staring at the fluorescent lights. I can still remember what they look like from above-fucking beautiful.
Damn, I miss her.

We pull up to a small home, opposite to the gulf. I jump out and stare out at the whispering darkness. I feel the cool moist air and it livens my spirit.

“Let’s go walk on the beach.”
I miss you.
“Greeeeeg, I’m tirrrreddd. We can spend the whole morning on the beach, can’t we just go inside and lay down?”
I need you, baby.
“Sure.”
“Kay, I love you.”
I followed behind her, through the door way, and planted right into her arms.
“I thought you were tired?”
“Yeah, but I’m also horny.”
Her tongue slid passed my lips and I pull back.
“We gotta get up early, baby, can’t it wait?”
“Are you serious right now? A minute ago you were all ready to go out and explore, and now you don’t even wanna put your fucking cock in me? It’s not like it would take you long anyways…”
“You wanna be fucked, baby?”
I hate you.
“Mhmmm.”
You are not human.
“Fine.”

I picked her up and met her lips with mine. Pushing her against the bathroom door and manipulating the head to the side-I pull my puppet’s strings every which way and as hard as I please. She doesn’t mind. After all, she wants to be abused. Wants to be powerless.
I hate her.
She whispers against my neck. She wants to be fucked.
I carry her to the couch and throw her down. As I unzip my pants, she sits up and explores what lies underneath my shirt. My clothes come off. Hers follow.
This night will be a charade.

Maybe it’s me who’s not human.

awkward dream

ahahahahahahahaha.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
laugh.

fucking laugh, you piece of shit.
the blade is in.
will you twist it,baby? I wanna feel the edge
singe my organs.
it feels good. makes me come.
makes me feel.
it makes me feel.
repetition, repetition; we'll keep turning the wheel.
its the best this world's got to offer.
its the best we have to offer.
so play your drums and sew your lips
the suture wont heal the wounds from whims.

too many blue people.

We took off our 3-D glasses, she buttoned up her pants, and we walked towards the exit. I grabbed a hold of her hand and pulled her as I ran out the door. She laughed with amusement-a sound I love-and followed close behind me. I threw my jacket over her and we made our way to her car. We got in and headed for food. We circled the taco bell like sharks, then finally ordered our meal; a number 7. As we pulled away, sipping on our mountain dew, we glanced at each other and smiled.
An unspoken agreement.
We rode down the highway.
I slipped the glasses back on and looked at her.
The lights and road works created a virtual image on the inside of them. A highway, filled with tired souls and constantly streaming lights, projected onto her mind.
Her eyes glistened; she concentrated on the road.
The lights changed to the tune of our soundtrack.
I missed her so much, even while she sat six inches away.
I missed the feel of her skin.
Her breath across my cheek.
Her gaze on me.
I don’t like it.
I hate it. I hate that every moment of my life seems so monotonous without her hand in mine.
Why can’t I be happy with my own experiences? Why must they be our experiences?
Fuck.
We stepped out of the car and scuffled to the apartment door. It was cold and the wind bit at my fingers. We crashed on the couch and I zipped her up in a sleeping bag. She looked at me with those big blue eyes-I-I didn’t want her to ever leave.
I never wanted to leave.

Too late.
I’ll see you in may, beautiful.