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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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…

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.

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.

I feel like drowning myself in the ocean.

"he told me that he had never came when a girl went down on him-I thought to myself... I could be that girl."

"I was just doing him a favor."

your tendencies are showing
and my memories are rushing.
he'll fill your mouth with cum
and your mind will choke on lies.
along with your twisted lines,
plastic eyes,
and absent life.
how could you die?
you drowned with your beauty
in the bottom of that broken bottle.

"I love you, and I am empty"
yeah, well, at least its half true.