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.

last minute, as usual.

I'm packin up for a lil bit of fun. supposed to be leaving for a field exercise in a few hours. I'm soopa excited since we never do anything... I find its instinctively satisfying to be out in the middle of nowhere even though everyone else finds it miserable. the first eight hours are gonna suck ASS, though. BUUUUUT, afterwards I'll just be layin back and enjoying the sunshine(hopefully). please no rain. or murderous birds, coyotes, pigs, deer, etc.

transatlanticism

"I was not proud, for I had calmed a deep woman by making her shallow. I had blocked the underground rivers that connected her to the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian Oceans, and made her content with being a splash pool three feet across, four inches deep, chlorinated, and painted blue."

a changing season

brings pretty poofpoofs.

a prayer to parks and bathroom fucks

a horizon of green stands alone to differentiate a river's slow waters from the sky.
their beauty skin deep, filled with dead leaves and a perch for a watchful eye
parallel universes asphyxiated by rain and childhood envy.
such a senseless war.

we stand at the base of a demilitarized zone
a decision's been made; a crossing shall be braved.
carefully, up and down smooth bark we tread
flashes of crude acrylic paintings told stories to the clouds soaring by.
a hand was raised for balance, a hand was held for spiders
watch your bombs and fly high, we said.

step by step, the wandering oak walked upon our mirror
instep, off key, two rythms intertwined by two pairs of feet
cheek to cheek, we'll circle 'round on repeat.

the end stared out and up.
water dripped from busy branches and hungry leaves.
we straddled the worn tree to observe these sworn enemies.
held close, her body felt strong and safe from this test
all the while shadows danced as fingertips played from under her dress.
such a wonderful tune to lighten the mood, is what we should've said.

what we should of left.

:O

so I spent my late birthday at the "beach".

and got to' up than a muh fucka.

and before the sunburn, I got attacked by a tree while makin my way down some rickety ass mountain trail. I was wearing my bike shoes and didnt unclip fast enough when I hit a HUGE pit of rock. so i just lay all tangled in shit in the branches. it was great. I'm just glad it wasn't a patch of cactusesesessssssssss. wish I had brought my camera-all I had at my disposal was my lil camera phone. bwoop bwoop.

burns and scratches aside, I love sitting around in my maxipad shorts, they give the SWEETEST tan lines. foooooo shoooo.

:'[

so. I've had a recent issue pop up(sort...of). I have ended up in an all too familiar position.

love love, hate, miss, replace, love love, hate, miss.

what the fuhhh. WHY DO I ALWAYS DO STUPID IMMATURE THINGS THAT END UP FUCKING UP EVERYTHING I WANT....!?FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.
its funny. I'm immature, it annoys her, which makes me upset, silent fight ensues, insecurity of feeling unwanted rears its ugly head, hatred brews, inscurity rises in her as a consequence, then she doesnt want to talk to me. yet. why? I don't know. I dont understand people. you either want to talk to someone or you don't. you either love someone or you don't. people have to make things seem so complicated and dramatic and its SO fucking overdone and painful. people always talk about being an adult and such... but I've never seen people act-whatever thats supposed to be, regardless of age.

I just wanna go home. fish. visit some places. get drunk and have sex with people that will end up hating me too and turn all my friends against me and make me hate florida. again and again and again and again and again. hopefully not that last part...its getting old. some day soon this tired cycle of shit will end. I'ma take my bike and money and go find something besides empty hands.


I guess some people are just doomed to fail at everything structured. romantic relationships, school, jobs, friends, family, blah, blah, blah. atleast I'm good at wandering and just doing whatever.
whatever whatever might be.

good morning.

step by step we marched, many keeping their pace.
I just walked and stared at the stars.

not in kansas anymore

they say she murdered men made of straw.

her words picked slowly at the buttons of his ragged shirt and her hands tore at his packing, in search.
the workers stopped their machines and gathered round. whispers and laughs of shameless interest polluted the currents that wind through the maze of golden fields.

a tarnish to be picked, processed, and forgotten.

he wept upon his post, crying out in silence for help from his fellow men; all too intoxicated with their midday treat. crows circled above the public execution, waiting for the moment their long time enemy was dead.
the workers hollered and whooped as the crazed lady thrashed at the broken man, encouraging her to set fire to his post.

decaying flesh lay scattered about as the search for his soul continued. to kill the will of the man made of straw was the distraught girl's wish. he deserves it, she said to herself.
over and over.

he deserves it
seasons come
crops are grown
money to be made, work to be played, and food to be ate.
many lover's toil and innocence may be saved today.

a matchbook escaped her pocket.
the breeze took care of the rest.