Toro y Lechuza

ONCE UPON A TIME....





There was a toro.

A toro who, in his free-time, liked to drink hard liquor and wander around in life harrassing everyone he crossed. He'd throw bottles at babies, chuck bats at old ladies, and steal candy from the corner store(which he was very good at, I might add).

His evil deeds went on and on, starting on the day he left the prison walls of a chinese torture facility(back in '06), to his untimely demise...
But we'll get to that later.

Toro had no friends. People didn't like his drunken banter, nor did they like getting whomped by bats or pelted with candy poo. Toro had lost hope in people, and himself. He had become the person he hated most,





Barbara
Streisand.

Toro woke up one day, hating life more than usual, and decided he wanted to die. He dreamt a super stylized suicide like it came straight outta Hollywood-or Afghanistan-either way, it was of super-epicness proportions. Atleast in his mind, ofcourse. He had it in his lil toro head that he was gonna stuff himself with as much nitro glycerin he could steal from the army men, run from their tanks and stealth airplanes, throw a noose over a tree in a quaint neighborhood park (disguised as a pinata, no less), and let the kids whack away. then they'd all go boom. Toro sighed in satisfaction as it played over in his head. No doubt Toro wasn't doing too good. Some might suggest he go see a therapist, but Toro would never hear of such things. He'd just scream and hack and scream some more in his dizzy stupor.

So as Toro started writing the last hate letter to Ms. Streisand, a knock sounded from his door.
Toro rose from the chair and turned to face this surprising distraction.
"...Toro? TOROTOROTORO!!!" screamed the bewildered little toro.
The knocks did not stop.
Toro, thinking that maybe there really were people that read minds for a living and that they had found out about his master plan, started teeter-tottering back and forth. Were they now here to take him back to his old dungeon abode? He shuttered at the thought. Toro stumbled about trying to burn all the evidence of his illegible scribblings in mureeka's fishbowl. mureeka didn't mind too much since Toro thought fish just ate their own poo-like he did. As he continued to stuff the little blazing bowl, his door opened enough for a beak to peak in.
"whoooOOOoo?" an eerie woman's voice called out.
"....TORO?!?"
"WHOOOO!"
"TORO!"
Toro had not noticed but...
He was on fire, and not like denzel...in that one movie, but really REALLY on fire.
Toro teetered and tottered some more, until his mysterious guest flew over him like a rescue copter and hosed him down with a bucket of mop water.
Toro now sighed in relief and looked up at his new found friend-his only friend in the whole wide world-and thought to himself, "Love..."

So from then on it was no longer Toro, drunk and alone; it was Toro and Lechuza, living free and together.
It's all they needed.
It's all they wanted.
Toro gave up the liqour, random violence, and forgot all about his Hollywood post-mortem movie deals.

Remember how I said Toro died? Yeah, well, That part's comin'.






So after a much needed visit to the optometrist(for the longest time
Toro couldn't tell the difference between tequila and olive oil),





Toro y Lechuza decided to head on over to the local REDBOX to rent a nice movie to cuddle to.





They arrived outside the HEB down the street, wondering what fantastiful movies
were held for them inside that fabulous red box.





Unfortunately, there was a line. So Toro waited patiently, and took a seat on the bench.





HURRAY! HUZZAH! The moment had arrived. It was time to make a selection.
After clicking through many of the different titles, Toro came to a conclusion on what he would pick: nothing. Everything was either about dane cook being a manslut and changing his ways or an 80 foot anadoo (half anaconda, half dugong or manatee or whatever the fuck it's called).





Toro felt a familiar heat rage through his veins.
A heat that built in his heart and whizzed out his ears.
A heat that fueled a fire that spread like buttered butt cheeks.





As Toro's returning anger flooded his mind, he glanced over at Lechuza, sitting peacefully in the truck.
Toro collected himself and got his head right. After all, he had love! They didn't need no stinking movie.
Once again Toro was a happy-go-lucky little toro. He loved babies, old ladies, and even retards.





And with that he headed to his sweet pookums, awaiting his embrace.





Then a Ford Explorer ran Toro over.

The End.

kindergarten kings

 mississipi sounds from the crinkling of white sheets; a search for laughter, to quench an angry thirst.
me first.
giggles escape, along with wasted air; spending tokens from the edges of bleached ocean. from punch to slap to tickle to kiss, the smiles will never fade.
so promises were made.
hands grasped hands that were after slender thighs and an innocent natural high.
I wont lie.
I promise-if that means much at all. for a call to arms, that bend 'round breasts, is not a useful plea.
so now it's your turn to lead.

IT'S OFFICIAL!

1. I'm married now. yay! omgzzz :D
2. finally broke a bone...

sorta.
stupid toro.

anyways,

3. GOING TO NTC AGAIN, WOOOOO! YEAH! fuck my life.
4. also going to the field for a month. WOOO! YEAHHHH. no.
5. my turtle got away :c
6. I'm not really married. that was me being stupid.

pariah's pulpit

licorice twists numbing tongues and hired thighs
welcome the flesh we hide behind a veil of fireflies
"sand dollar streets stare down the time", the signs will faithfully say
eggshells underneath a line for preachers who'll pray,
"mother forgive me, god forgive me. my soul you shall forsake!"

and destined are souls to greet thin ice, high and with a smile
just spin the dials, touch the child-for christ, we're here to save!
authority storms from east to west, "come judge a fearless knave!"
"for my whole life I've loved a land, and a savior that I have claimed,"
"but hypocrites, whores, liars, and thieves have robbed me of my name."
"so now I take a new one; now I start anew. "
"an angel of bread beneath my breast and god beneath my shoe."

coincidences

thats all it is.

I'm an isotope of tasty cantaloupe, girl-won'tchu be mine?

something wonderful is happening in this world. every moment, molecules work in harmony to no decision or thought of their own. they create a vivid and vast environment that we are all apart of.

 they clash! they split! they fuse!

they embrace. 

and we are apart of it.

the gods are our creators, creations, and creatures!
we are our makers!

 a vast vessel made of tissue and sinew,

 filled with highways for a flourishing community of cells made of happy little fellows.

we all see the big picture, I don't think that's a problem. its hard to say if I can empathize with atoms of adams from eves in a garden of particles. the screens keep gettin bigger, but the pictures not gettin any more clear. what a shame. sham. shoop.

shwop!

I fucked a mermaid.

this was stencilled from posterboard for my friend, grace. her longing to be a mermaid made me think of how that TOTALLY presents a problem with riding bicicletas... and not to mention the possibility of being a freak! who says merpeeps gotta be pretty?
anyways. I need to find a better material to make stencils on so they'll last longer.... since its my new hobby. I've gone from drawing, sewing, painting, writing, to-well, stencilling now :p

I hate it though, anything that requires imagination is almost impossible for me to take part in. the army is an inescapable blackhole for anything beautiful, brittle, and thoughtful. sonofabitch. I never realized how hard it is to just BE inspired! AHCK!!!

I've made a few stencils, but they all just seem to lack...well... everything. they're just images that i think look cool or are too simple & bland. mebeh somethin'll come. hopefully soon. I've felt stuck for a bit.

family ties

gramps on the left, cousin in the middle, me on the right.
you know, my cousin might get into a lot of trouble and be thought of as a burden by some of my family, but I think he's one of the most normal and intelligent people I know. lego master. chess champion. computer guru. humble philosopher. convicted felon. it sucks what happens to those that society refuses to accept.

dad tryin to look cool. like always. now you just look dead, nigga. cos you IS dead.

marie. she'd do anything for the crack rock. she mah sistuh from anothuh mistuh. I love her tuh deaf. no matter what's going on she is always there. when bitchez be fuckin with a nigga's feelins n shit, what does she do? hook a brothuh up wif some hoez, THATS WHAT! when my money's all gone and there's no hope? its okay. she doesn't have any either. we just sit on the corner and holler at bitchez. it's saturday night and we've got too many gay dudes around? don't worry, we're goin to pulse. WHERE DUH THESBIANS AT? i love bitchez that love other bitchez! I think I've made my point. I'm an ass, but so is she. <3
ohhhh jurse. jurse purse curse worse nurse hearse verse blahblahblahblah.
actually, its jess. but for a while I made it a habit to make up names for her cos I kept forgetting her real name... WHICH I HAPPEN TO DO TO EVERYONE, thank you. ANYWAYS, jurse seemed to stick, on account for I like the way mad black women talk. but yeah. she's exgirlfriend turned psycho lover turned bestfriend forever turned step sister I had/have sex with-you know, like that one movie. but not really. her enitre family hates me because I stick my pee pee in all their relatives. but its okay. I don't mind. I love her and not even she can make me leave her alone. cos I'm just as psycho as she is. thank jeff!
just look how much she hates me!

but we have a retard love child to look after. hey, gotta have sumfin.


and den durrz momma.

I don't hate her no mo'. she's a nice momma. a good momma.

chrono-synclastic infundibulum

Woke up with a foot on my chest.
Wheres my clothes?

wheres my clothes?
who are you?
an amused admirer.

Her eyes pierced and pryed as she held me down, the dirt grinding into my chest, releasing its earthy aroma. the wormhole of fast paced greens didn't seem to distract her at all.

where...are we?
home. don't you recognize it? don't you recognize me?

Toes were dug into my ribs, as if I were an ash tray to put out her fire. I grabbed the skinny soot stained ankle and sent it up, up, up-

AHHHHHHHHHHHHOOWOOP! -WHY'D JOODO THAT?!

I sit up and realize what planet I'm on. The trees burn and ripple in the wind, showing off their best dance for a rarely present audience.

do you really have to ask such a stupid question?
YOU'RE AN ASS!
you're an idiot, but I'm still likin' the fact we're naked.
SHUT UP!
what time is it?
I'm not talking to you anymore.
okay. who'r you going to talk to then?
maybe I'll find some squirrels or oppossums that'll show me a bit of respect?
...you've got leaves in your hair.
so? maybe I like them there? they smell nice.
you're weird. really weird.

Her cheeks were riping tomatoes, showered with a coat of dirt that covered pale breasts and a growling stomach.

I'm sorry, I was just kidding. you hungry?
...yeah.
well, why don't we see if we can't find something to eat?
I already ate all the blue berries... and the grapes.
wait. we have food?
...did-I was hungryyy!
its okay. you're the one that's starving.

I surveyed the halls and walkways, a natural orchard of social giants that we seemed to be dropped in the middle of.

all I see is rows and rows of trees in every direction...
its funny.
what is?
this. the fact that you ignore me, and your home.
what the hell do you keep talking about? I thought we were looking for food?
you just don't get it. we've been here before, you and I and everyone, everything that exists and will.
what do you mean, everything that exists and will?
what do you want right now?
honestly?
obviously.
well, you-I feel oddly comfortable and completely aware of how rediculous that is-this can't be real-
where'd you just get that?

There in her hand, grasped firmly as she studied its texture, was an apple. Crimson to vanilla as she bit into it.

isss kwite gud, yuh knoww.
where'd that come from?
uhhh-uh. I just know its tastyyyy. wanna bite?
this isn't real. it can't be.
how do you define real, boy? from senses? if every experience of a touch is a memory, how do you know that it isn't a figment of your mind?
because I am touching something now. that is present time-it isn't a memory.
now it is.
that doesn't make any sense!
neither do you.

I close my eyes and plop on the ground. The ants scurry along my base and along my toes. I forget my surroundings and concentrate on the anxiety of the moment-are the damned things gonna bite me or what?

...are you okay?
leave me alone.
now look who's the pouty one...

The smell of oak and cinammon invades as her hair brushes up against my forehead.

I don't even like tomatoes.
HUH?
and cinammon is completely overrated.
what-
if you're some kind of, like, part of my subconscious then why are you, you? why aren't your boobs bigger? why-
SHUT UP! I. AM NOT. A DREAM. I am real, thank youuuuu, and THERE IS NOTHING WRONG with my cup size.
I didn't say there was, I was just pointing out that-
you are the dream, boy.
whuh?
you are a part of my mind's creation. you know as much as I do and your history, likes, dislikes, personality, all of it that you are aware of is only as much as I've begun to spin. you are my clothes to wear. to keep me safe and keep me warm. you are all I want and need. do you understand? you won't accept it because I won't let you. so, its okay.
you really are crazy.
you lost your virginity at sixteen.
nope.
yup.
lucky guess.
women hate you.
well that much can be assumed by our interaction so far...
your father died at somepoint, I haven't decided when yet, so ofcourse you don't even remember when...
how-
hmmm... what else... oh you're obsessed with gerbils, chinchillas, and the like.
how did you know about my dad?
you really are thick. I told you. you are what I want you to be. an ass, an underdog, a rebel, a liar, a slacker, a coward. you're human, the way I see it. just the way I like it.
if I'm not real, how can I be human?
come on now, human is a term that transcends species. its on par with the likes of a god. you don't have to be tangible to be human. infact, I think the best ones are those of dream and fiction. and all your percieved feelings and senses are past interaction based upon my experiences. now do you see?
your back doesn't hurt?
nope.
you've been like that for a while.
NOPE. nope.  nope. shut up.

Her nose was pressed against mine, radio transmissions were passed from pupil to pupil. From smile to whisp to breast to kiss, my peripheral had become a blur. A drugged-like state of heavenly smells and tastes brought on by a peace embedded into my essence. She finally sat down infront of me and took my hands.

everything's gonna be okay now, you'll guard our coconuts till the end of time.
cos I'm your spacewhore?
cos I'm your spacewhore.

bad dreams

I woke up this morning with a bad taste in my mouth and a hard feeling in my chest.
all the happy things a write about you are nothing more than a delusion. nothing I feel or want is real, and as I write them, why don't I catch it? I don't know, I don't know... I'm too caught up in the idealist bullshit that I used to believe in unquestionably. it always takes the dreams to remind you what is real.




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.
-2 October 2009



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.
-12 January 2010



you shook.

"you talk a good one, but don't want it."
-mobb deep.-21 january 2010



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.
-18 April 2010



karma collisions.

everybody says I'm better.
maybe they're right-in more ways then they ever meant.
-28 April 2010



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.
-20 May 2010



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.
-30 September 2010


I must always remember what is.
don't think I have much use for this blog anymore.

I'll follow your lead

we lay under the acacia tree, hiding from the midday sun. the shots from the M16s echo through the valley and thrust themselves up to the clouds. an orchestra of amatuer percussionists, firing notes off to an audience of paper silhouettes. the scent of the agave blooms overwhelm my senses as your eyes pierce my throat. the ants weave through the small hairs on my back, but I pay no mind. you've trapped my life in the gaze of your soul. and when the scent of evergreen finds its way to me, when a field of summer flowers surround, when a crowd overwhelms and your perfume is all that sounds. I know. I know you aren't there, but.

 it doesn't stop me from turning around. 

whisked away

I'll fluff to your heart's content.

through thick and thin.