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.

borders.

No, not the store, but the invisible boundaries created by the establishment that enforces its laws upon us.

"The establishment, a corporate investment.
The establishment, just one large police force."
What a great corporate message of their own they could put out.

Borders are to recognize different establishments unwillingness to sacrifice power.
sometimes borders are treated as what they are, imaginary lines-in the case of most south american countries, Iraq, Vietnam, Afghanistan. all know too well, whether from current or historical situations.

although the establishment recognizes borders, when its convenient, the corporate entity that it relies on, does not.
globalization has become rampant and the illusion that the local establishments govern these enities is slowly but surely disolving-since we are forced to consume now. through taxation, the establishment steals what we are "owed" and feeds the dying corporate monster that it relies on. whether we buy or protest, they'll get our money either way. this is our fate in a welfare state. the only way to truely escape would be to drop out of the system-or be a native american-either way would be effective from escaping this black hole.

I think about how budding socialist countries were crippled by governments around the world. how nationalization of resources and many services was never an option. it just shows how transparent even the establishment sees itself; just a sheep in wolf's clothing. the corporate strongholds will never allow the world to be owned by the people, a nation, or absent of ownership entirely. they only see one option and its to rule and own everything. a grandeur delusion-a very detrimental one, at that, to everyone.

la dispute.

I seen a man burn to death, once
He was holding up the match as his hair turned to ash.
How I valued his charisma.

When I was little, I remember seeing an old lady who would walk around with a red wagon.
She'd talk to herself all day, sitting on a bench or just strolling along the streets.
My grandmother would sit with her sometimes. I think she always cared for those with a stigma.
She had many. Still does.

Once I died while climbing down into my basement. Such a cold and dark place, heaven was.
I'm thankful my best friend dragged me out; it was too dusty for my liking.

My father was a distraught man. Always seemed in thought, but refused to say a word.
I know he loved me. with the few ways he could show.
I still have that cigar clipper.

Sometimes I dream awake.
I walk through my mind and life changes around me. I change around me.
It's weird how I'm the only person sleeping through this.

I used to run away from home just to watch my sisters and mother go look for me.
As I sat there in that bush, with my ninja turtle underwear, I knew;
I knew, even then, that they were better off without me.
And me without them.


Fin.

bikes!

I road across the texan countryside all day today. I also had a stare down with a cow as I rode by-such ferocious creatures.
time to go massage my sore gouche :c

damn.

I usually put 500 of each paycheck in my savings, this week I spent all of it... I'm slipping.
no more alcohol. no more fast food. no more fucking gas money-I have a bike, god dammit. saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaveeeeeeeee!!!!!!! I need that money for later... either college-or trips :]

anyways, I still feel sick from thursday night. which I'm about to divulge into riiiiiiiight neeoowww.

so thursday I went with josh to his apartment for a party we were gonna have that night. we threw that GIGANTIC bottle of grey goose in the freezer and started cleaning up the mess that was his abode. it looked like nobody had lived there for weeks... which was true... so anyways, christie showed up and we had already started drinking. bad choice on my part. I remember tyson, craig & crew, jay's brothers, these black girls, and the stripper neighbor-who I wouldn't stop flirting with apparently.
after everyone got there, and I had my encounter with the stripper lady, I don't remember anything. jay said I was dancing with christie and getting down like I was a "female"; I guess he told me to stop because I was making the guys uncomfortable. I really can't stand fucking gender roles. fucking pisses me off. why can't I just be my self around others and be accepted?people are too insecure about themselves. oh well, but apparently jay beat up tyson and I passed out on josh's bed. jay carried me to his car, cos we had to leave-police were coming-so we headed to his brother sean's place. he helped me up the stairs and plopped me onto a bed. I remember smelling a shoe by my face, but I was too lazy to move it. dammit.
all I know is, when I woke up that morning I was still drunk and I had to watch some show called the 700 club (christian bullshit) til jay woke up. I think they almost converted my soggy brain in one hour. those shows are pretty convincing, I mean the dude healed this lady's fibromyalgia AND healed someone's alcoholism. through skype. fucking bad ass, right? baby jesus sure was working through his sausage-like fingers, fo'sho. ofcourse when I finally felt sober(yesterday morning) I reflected back on what I had seen and felt retarded. never again.

lessons learned tonight

1. don't smoke cigarettes... anymore. they're gross and deteriorate lance lungs.
2. stay away from honkies and their redneck hangouts.
3. make sure to have an exit plan when random cougars try to stick their tongue down your throat.
and 4. stop borrowing clothes and go to goodwill for bountiful booty.
that is all.
oh, and 5. I'm too dumb to figure out my lil maff problem below.

I'm on a motha fuckin boat. Bitch.

Obama funna be here tomorrow.

they set up a giant wall of conexes on the parade field to "guard him from sniper fire".
all these great lengths, just for a puppet of corporate america? makes you think;what if it was T-Pain?

they'd prolly pull out the black hawks.

maria!

I have one and a half friends.

she is black.
she is big.
she is broke.
she is lesbian.
and she is always there for me... even without a phone.

everyone else just uses me for support-in case of hurricanes, I suppose. fuckers.

in other news, kayla called me. she said she's gonna try to come to florida again next summer. I guess I might as well save up my leave... since it doesn't look like its going to get fixed anytime soon.