4th dimension

air dry and the sun ever curious of my wandering. its time to finally go through with a promise made to you.
roots twisted and arched, pointlessly trying to make my journey more annoying than it already seemed.
the fork in the trail presented itself and I wandered out into the open path. brush was thick and high. the animal trails presented themselves.
"how do you do?", I asked the ghosts greeting.
"please."
with a wave of hands, I bowed to follow faithfully.
I stood at the end of a cavern, made from twigs and dead leaves, to a part in a play.
the crowd was quiet and expectant as I performed faithfully.
the beauty of my memories was not present. only a moment injected into time. my motive was all that I percieved-all that existed.
I carve.
one blade dulls to the sound of my framework chipping and chipping and chipping as I sit studying my wounds these wounds that I'm carving out and in-
front of me. here we are.
faithfully.
arms grow heavy and I rest next to my bike. our environment becomes very real.
its a boar with its offspring. I stand for some odd reason and stare. the young scurry and their mother, startled, jumps to face me. I glare into its eyes with a pestering curiousity. it sees nothing. how could it? I left months ago.

only the title of this production lay here, plastered now. a faithful resting place.  R
S

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.

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.

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.

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.

today.

I got up at 830 this morning to wake murray for whatever reason, but he wasn't even there. I went back to sleep only to be woken up again by a phone call, ten minutes later. fuck. can't ever sleep in.
even though I went straight back to sleep afterwards :]

had another call around 12. forgot I was supposed to go to lunch with my section today. oops.
I threw on some clothes that were sitting on the floor, next to my bed. splashed water on my face and walked out the door. I called my mom to let her know I was ok and attempted to call my grandmother. there phone was off, as usual.

for some reason I got the idea of calling my ex-girlfriend back. boyyyy did i regret that after wards. she always gives me this empty feeling in my chest-along with a sinking one in my stomach... anyways, when berry arrived to pick me up, kayla called me on the way to cheddars. holy fuck it was good to hear her voice. then she hit me hard. she was moving back to italy. to get back with her ex, ofcourse. I loved her so much. I wanted to see her one more time and there's no way thats happening. I felt so defeated.
her last words were "call me when you're not so gloomy". fuck my life.

I got dropped off with the new guy and met up with jay, el capitan, faggle, and sgt tomlin. we ate, discussed goals and got to know eachother a little better. it was nice, I suppose.
el capitan dropped me back off at the barracks and I called jess to talk the day away.
I swear, for some reason I can talk with her more than anyone I know. I don't get it.
from that point on my day was a blurr. hours felts like minutes. minutes were moments.

moments of peaceful silence. something I seem to crave sometimes.

I don't want to stop writing. I don't want to have to be in the moment, I'd rather take myself out and look in. its so hard to come to terms with events that have unfolded.

I walked out of my barracks room, after the fire alarm had been been pulled, and I stared up at the trees. the leaves semi translucent and glowing a bright green. the moths fluttering in the light, and thenandthere I felt happy. just. that moment-that lasted for quite sometime.

earlier I tried to put my thoughts together, to come up with an entry, but I felt like I had no time... even though all I have is time. I feel as if I wish I could just be at a standstill. everything stop-but not me. I'd put in my head phones,the cure blaring, rip my clothes off, and run wild through texas. I want to walk into my apartment, almost dead from exhaustion-1200 miles? human beings were made to survive, but not like this. I want to scream at the world and let everyone know I am here, but not ready. not ready for time to move on and not ready for people to move on.

I have stripped myself of opportunities, of loved ones, of freedoms-and for what? a second chance? is it worth killing people? supressing others' freedoms? I'm starting to think I'd rather die then be part of this.

its fucking cold, Mr. Smith, and I wish I could see her smile again.