wanna.

Your disbelief intrigues me. Like fodder for my brain.

He's standing right behind you, with a balloon and a gun. There's magic in his eyes and sadness on his lips. He wants you to know that he cares very little. Its just an orchestra in his brain. He's almost positive you're the crescendo. How long can he keep this going? How long can he keep you in ------- suspense? He possibly feels the same way you do but enjoys it. His songs are innumerable. His acts are finite. It ends when you do. Or when you end him.
Stop pawing at it and man up. Rip the throat and enter. There will be a day to remember.

monsters

Who are these monsters?
These 10 o'clock people?
Do they fear my touch as much as I do theirs?
My skin is nervous. I fear letting my monster out. I fear it would not be well received among these potty trained mongrels. Its naked violent ambition..
Can they see the shape mine takes? I would almost beg to hear their description. Are my visions truth among my senses or just a grotesque fantasy?
Everything seems like its built on tension. I know they're monsters because they walk this tension like a well accomplished acrobat on a low tightrope. I'm starving..
Who is who? Its not a question of trust, its a question of...what?
What do you ask? There is no answer that can't rise another question. I'm torn. I'm scared. My faith is deep. But their claws are so long..

second response

Sorry I haven't written back in a few days, busy weekend.
Uh, with the unfiltered cigs. Too harsh. My friend rolled his own for years till he quit recently. You know it's bad when the the guy who was the heavy metal of smokers quits and you're still craving. If I remember to check out that orchestra song I will but the cynic is screaming annoying world music but I'll give it a shot.

Ha ha yeah I know the bike thing. I started learning from my friends dad but when they moved, no one picked up the slack so I just got lazy. I've tried now but it's fucking hard to balance. But I must say, cyclists that act like they're fucking cars piss me the fuck off. Don't get in the fucking left hand turn lane. Just get on the sidewalk for fucks sake! Sorry, it just irritates me.

Tecate Light? Trying to watch your figure? I like Tecate cuz it reminds me of high school.

I'm sorry about your friend. I haven't had anyone really close to me die except my grandma but we weren't that close. Those artist types can be very destructive. It's unfortunate but that's how it is sometimes. What happened to the girl he was in love with? Is she still around? That must have been awful for her. I can't imagine..

Henry Rollins is my hero. A genius. I've seen his spoken word live a couple of times, hilarious! That song is probably the only good one he has. I don't like Rollins Band, terrible but the man is all kinds of amazing. Love him.
You should try to explain what it is you study. If it's at all interesting I don't care too much if I don't fully understand it. I watch copious amounts of Science and Discovery channel. My favorite is astrophysics. If there was one thing I want to fully understand and would love to study, that would be it. I find it infinitely interesting. There is just so much out there, it blows my fucking mind. I'll watch those programs for hours and then google articles on it. For a while I was obsessed with quarks. Ridiculous..

Ah shit you're really gonna hit me with the love question? Mushy girly shit? Ok, I have been. My best friend from high school. But it just wasn't in the stars for us. Bad timing for both of us. Plus were both really weird, we don't talk about that. Plus the whole don't ruin the friendship thing. He is my soulmate though. Doesn't matter how long we haven't seen each other we just pick up like it's only been a day. There's been maybe a handful of others but he was the first and the best. Ha! Speak of the devil..

In response to this:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNtsq3LYl1E
Ok so I'm watching that youtube post and writing this at the same time. So number one seems ok.
Number two I understand but some people like to be used as slaves or property. If it's understood that it consensual that what does it matter? Number three, totally agree.
Number four I pretty much agree with except for evil ones. Some kids are born fucked up. I'm not saying it's ok to rape or abuse children but I've seen fucked up kids and they are frightening.
Number five, don't condemn people for their inborn nature? Are you fucking kidding me? So it's don't hate gays for being gay cuz they're born that way, but what about pedophiles, rapists, murders that were fucked from the beginning? Should I welcome them with open arms as well? So treat everyone equally? Like Jesus, right? And why is it Gods fault when something bad or tragic happens but a break through in science has nothing to do with Him. People say God is fucked up cuz of the Holocaust but no one is crying over the dinosaurs being wiped out. It's only tragic if you care. Right now there are thousands of horrible and beautiful things happening right down to the smallest particle. But people don't care unless it affects them directly; and those who do are often called Jesus like or martyrs. You can say that you can't compare dinos to humans but yes you fucking can. People only give a shit if they love or care or have some interest in it. Everything else is just space. Most people don't know shit about inborn nature, they only know what you tell them. That includes me sometimes.
Number six. Lame. That served no purpose. That could mean so many things depending on the situation.
Number seven. Sounds like the bible. Isn't it called Thou shall not lie?
Number eight. Werd!
Number nine. Hmmm. This is tricky. What these people did and have done for thousands of years is horrific. But, I can't call someone crazy for their religious beliefs, even if they are horrifying. My religion has crazy too. And if they believe that theirs is right all they are doing is following their faith. It's disgusting, I think they are wrong, and that their path is a dark one but they see us the same way. Unless your like a Buddhist or just an inherently good person regardless of the religion, there is a darkness that ties your heart to your faith. Some peoples are small other are far far scarier.
Number ten. Again, the Bible was written by man, not God. Again, the Bible has been translated from so many people and languages for so many years, who is to say what we read now was interpreted properly or even the same as what was originally written? No one shouldn't be made to feel bad for believing it, or abiding by it, since you are not supposed to judge people. I don't like anyone telling me what I should or shouldn't believe. Give me your knowledge and I'll decide for myself. And I find it ridiculous that a minute and a half of your wisdom that you acquired in 40 years is supposed to trump the most popular book in the world that's how fucking old? Shiiiiiittt. Sorry Chris, it's not gonna happen. I get what he's saying but whatevs. He seems rather pompous. I guess I might right now too. Who the fuck is he?
Despite all my chatter, I like that you show me shit I haven't seen, I appreciate that.
And yes, Jim Beam is awful. Hope you had an awesome 4th! I'm gonna go sweat in another room and drink. :-)

my response to a letter on an online dating site, after the berating

I love me some later Cohen. The early stuff is a little too folky for me. Don't get me wrong, I can get totally into some folky stuff but most of it is new unless it's Donovan or some random old songs. I like Cohens newer shit because he's dirty and offensive it's in a way, rather attractive. In the same way people are attracted to innocence, I think the same for filth. It's like not giving a fuck. And at some point everyone wants to not give a fuck even if it's for like an hour. I feel that way when I listen to some of his songs. He is not an everyday listen to but he grabs a hold of the mood by the tits and balls. Ya gotta love him even if you don't like the music. And JD is what lead me to my whiskey love. It's the only whiskey I drank for a few years. It's perfect. Not too sweet, not too bitter and good price. Plus I'm pretty sure they did a dramatization on the makers death on the show A 1000 Ways To Die. That equals awesome in my book. I do enjoy my Bulliett bourbon, and my Glenfiddich amd Jameson scotch but I will always go back to Jack. I have never heard of the whiskey you speak of. I also noticed you spell whiskey without an e. Don't meet many of those.
I do not disagree with your conversation statement. I was briefly dating this nice guy, thought maybe I would be his girlfriend until we actually had a real conversation and I said, after a long winded and twisted explanation, "Sorry, my mind goes a million miles a minute, I all over every tangent.." and he replied "Ha, that's ok, my mind goes like a mile a minute." Like I said, nice guy but a simpleton. We were not a good match. On a side note, his brother and friends were ridiculous smart.
Ah the Christian thing. I was raised Catholic. Holy first communion, sunday school, Our Father, Holy Mary, the whole deal. My mom said she never taught me my prayers, I just one day recited the entire thing in the car randomly. I never questioned his existence. Ever. Did I briefly flirt with the idea of Satanism? Kinda. But I was young and confused and it was purely superficial. I changed my mind pretty quickly. My short journey to the "darkside" was just me building from my my sadness, apathy and serious curiosity of the macabre. I thought it was where I belong until I realized I wasn't evil. This of course was many many years ago. Catholicism had too many rules that seemed to stray away from the main point of Christianity. I had a very close friend explain and shed some light that made me open to being religious without being so "man made rule" restrictive. I found I never really lost my faith. The forced binding to certain rules and lack of free will to experience faith as you feel and see fit forces otherwise strong believers into a corner with only a small hole to fit their belief system into. I found as much as find church boring, I respect it. (Oddly enough, I only enjoy Catholic services and churches). I don't get into specifics because I believe your relationship to God or a higher power is very personal. My nerd friends try to throw science in my face but I remind them that they can explain just as much about God as they can about the Big Bang theory. Or anything in science. You can divide and divide and divide but a some point you gotta say "where the fuck is coming from?" We found cells and atoms and quarks but there is always gonna be something smaller or greater and you just can't explain or understand it. Where do you go from there? You don't have to get on your knees and pray to Jesus but you can't even tell me what happens with matter that enters black holes? Talk about blind faith..
So weed. Used to be a wake and baker in high school. For two and a half years I was pretty much high every day. Then I woke up and said, nah, not for me anymore, it's boring. Now I do it maybe 2 to 4 times a year and very little when I do. I'm a light weight when it comes to that. Plus so many of my friends are soo boring high it's not worth it. But I don't give a fuck if someone does, legalize it, smoke it, eat it I don't care.
Everyone chooses pony boy, why not soda pop?
It's funny that you say your usually the only white dude in your groups of friends lately cuz almost all my friends are white or mexican. But that's always been the case for me. I think I have 1 black friend, ha! Shit, I'm getting drunker and hanging too much on turntable..
I only like the first 2 BMRC albums. Sigur Ros is awesome. All that other shit is foreign to me. If I'm not listen to Pandora or turntable it's NPR, KCRW KXLU or talk radio or podcasts.
I can respect the love of bikes but to me it's not worth the risk. Driver or passenger. And how fucking tall do you need to be? I'm almost 5'9 wtf?
Shit, it's getting late and I need to go to smoke and then sleep. So real quick, Wild Turkey is tolerable for an only means for getting drunk, I like coffee flavored things except coffee, I love cigarettes, I'm messy but not gross, Orchestra Boabab sounds like new age, world music noise. If it's not, I'd give it a listen; Daniel Tosh and Henry Rollins are my heroes, never been out of the country, its spelled Jim Beam not bean and to much peoples horror and shock, I don't know how to ride a bicycle. Good evening and good night, ha!
P.S. My name is not Mary.

if i am what i am, what is everyone else?

i know we would have been good together. that was never a question. but it's quite clear after tonight we will not be together. you use words and phrases i've long since abandoned. your once frightening nature has been tamed. you're so focused you're just a bright round star with no sharp edged beams. i thought in my turbulent cycle i'd fight against myself to your plane only to find it deserted. cold rides. wilted flowers. gray skin. i couldn't leave a place like this knowing i could revive it. but i understand your plight. all alone. the comers and goers. you felt injured. lowly. if no one can see this place, maybe it doesn't belong. you thought it superiority. you thought it arrogance. all because someone stuck needles in your eyes and when they were pulled from your face you saw what everyone forgot the minute they touched this earth....

i know we would have been good together. as sure as my soul is light. as sure as the paint in the sky. as sure as the holes in my skin.. follow me. i wont show you things you've never seen. that is not my gift. i'll bring to the place you've always known. i'll make you feel it. all the truth you need is inside the bloody mess of yours. all you need is in that breath. i dont want peoples wants. there are so many futures. they crash and collide and you fight to find the right one. take them all. every point is part of you. every direction is the way to go. tear yourself apart. go. if you cant be a part of everything, you're a part of nothing. in every instance you are. you are. this is who we are. this is what we'll be. i know it. as sure as the night is black. and the clocks are violent. every point is where you start. every point of your life is alive. is going forward. i believe my dreams. fantasies. because they live as much as i do. its a pain i cant be without.

tonight i saw a death. i wont leave without kissing it good bye. it knows me as well as my mother. as well as my car. my bed. my socks. this is me. i've always been here. do not be frightened away from your years. do not be bullied by suspicion. it only hurts as much as you allow it to. they only believe as much as you give them. as long as you are what you are, there are no limits. what you see is what is. you know it to be true. find peace in the fact that there are no facts. just truth. show yourself, not them, the truth. and find me wading..

song

i was drowning myself
with all the air i could breathe
i couldn't feel the heat or cold
the sunlight embarrassed me to no end
i close my eyes and no face comes to mind
i couldn't dream a fuckin thing
i was starving on a full belly
i kept letting my time spill all over the kitchen floor
when would i stop staring at that screen..
fatter and fatter i grew
would no one tell me how long i've really been gone?
i was made of paper and ash
what happened to my super power???
was i ever anything without it?
i needed to say no
i needed to embrace denial
all of you helped me down that staircase
i feel so snug in your pity
i was only offered strangers' hands
disgust crept, and became a film over my eyeball
every daybreak broke a little of me and cookie
my thoughts are different now
and soon they will add up
brushing off the bruises and the leaves
nothing is empty
eventually
everyplace i enter and
everyplace i go and
everyone i meet
i'll fill
your logic is suffocating

fill (2007)

come drown with me.
in my thoughts
in my sheets
in my tits
in my room
in my bottle
in my words
in my tears
in my screams
in my life
in my blood
in my words
bury you in me from the neck down
and let my tide
splash your face
burn your eyes
fill your nostrils
choke you
tease you
fill your lungs.
you can fight me
and then i'll spill into you
from the inside out.
we'll just slip away..

fb 1 (200?)

today started off ok. somewhere along the line I started to feel ill. Dancing didn't help. It only lured me into an unrealistic fantasy. A picture of a puppy made me text his brother. As if that's any consolation. I don't know what's worse; being angry that I'm sad or being sad. It's one of those solid cries. All stoic and single teared. Lame. I'm even embarrassed I admitted it in this blog. How do you miss 10 percent of someone? How does such a small percentage fill a whole? Every time I tear away I feel like I'm digging a deeper grave. I guess I am. What are they to me? I see my future and they don't make an appearance. I sit in my desperation and they're every thought. Someone snatch me from my life preserver cuz it's the only thing keeping me from living.

man in mind (2007?)

who are you? who is trapped in my world with me? my wild card. my shape shifter. my exodus. all you dead bodies with souls that carry your works as legends; you haunt my heart. you feed on my desperation. vultures of sorrow. zombies of confusion. vampires of creation. you feed. i hate that i am your fodder. and yet without you my presence would go unnoticed, my essence, rotting fruit for flies.  it fills me like dark matter. discovered and unrecognizable. just because you find the knowledge, does not mean you understand it once you attain it.

wild card

its always all about you without any of the benefits. wet teary eyes with the barrel pointed at your heart. i wanted to pet the world like a cat. there's is no friend at the bottom of a bottle because if there were, there would be no bottom. no end to the comfort. there's more to life than just living, breathing, carrying on. people will ignore you without even trying. they're just built that way. but one benefit of being ignored and underestimated is no one ever sees you coming. your invisible. like the winds of a tornado, no one looks your way till your feet hit the ground and the ground hits the sky. you can smell it in the air. nobody is prepared for the wild card. that's why its a wild card. it assumes any form it needs to be to win the game or throw it off course to gain control. but you already knew that didn't you?

day

he's standing right behind you, with a balloon and a gun. there's magic in his eyes and ennui on his lips. he wants you to know he cares very little. it's just an orchestra in his brain. he's almost positive you're the crescendo. how long can he keep this going? how long can he keep you in theoretical suspense? he possibly feels the same way you do but enjoys it. his songs are innumerable. his acts are finite. it ends when you do. or when you end him.
stop pawing at it and man up. rip the throat and enter. there will be a day to remember.

show

your little room and your little pictures hide your wounds. instead of your words i hear your nails scrape against the earth. i have felt your eyes. your indifference is boring. your anger is coddled. you're neither sly nor intriguing. but you are appetizing. and so you will learn that i have many uses. you've had one of the good ones. now let me show you how horrible the others can be..

sober

who wants to be on crutches their entire life? who wants to end up bored with their own mind? it's like escaping into a prison of your own choosing. even the dirtiest of sponges need a good rinsing and drying. or else it rots from the inside out. it's called failure. and even if no one sees, you cant escape your own stench. i like my indulgences to be just that. if it becomes more frequent than not, it no longer becomes highs and lows, it becomes today and tomorrow. acceptance doesn't abolish the action. and action does not abolish perception. its easy to create waves in your ebbing tide pool. vilify yourself. emulate yourself. bury yourself. dragging their cornea across the paper is the only way they can feel the grit of your narratives. and even if a few of them manage to blow away the smoke and see right through your two way mirrors, well then, they are already a part of the piece of you that you will never own.

clean

and one by one they fall. so dry and brittle are the pieces, the mesa, the meta and pro. they've been dead for months. cramped in the corner of the cupboard. the thought of them makes me sick. as does the thought of you. only difference is, the mess their invasion in my life has made is easily cleaned by towels and bleaching sprays. i've yet to find a substance strong enough to wipe clean any residue you've left behind that doesn't do any permanent harm or leave those annoying streaks you can see clearly in the sun. it's just plain embarrassing when company comes over. but who am I kidding? there's no company. not with all these dead bees and dead feelings all over the place. no no no this wont do at all! so i weigh my options. i consider the realistic facts instead of the clouded misguided blame i tend to shower in. the outline and movement is just clear enough to make out but.. loch ness? big foot? my truth? it's a shame i study an analyze something that merits no credits. hmmmph. moving on..

stream

it's clear the grime will fall away easily. using one tool of filth to clean a dirtier one is surprisingly effective. there is a small path, recently cleared of debris that i must stray from. surges of energy break my cycle, sweat beads down my face back and boobs. the violence is interrupted. i pray this is a small inconvenience and hope that my entertainment resumes shortly. cloudy. scalding. peeling. i need something more intrusive to clean between the blades. this process is necessary to continue my fine tuned ritual of stripping, ripping, tearing; pulling like a rack; smoothing tying twisting drying.

walking

the colors just barely reached my toes. i felt robbed of my punishment. this is where i suffer in sections. microscopic bits of embarrassment. the sweat, the piles of clothes, the collections of empty malt liquor cans. these aren't badges of honor or failure; they're the building blocks, the foundation on which i build my future empire to the stars on. your accusations are totally founded and completely disregarded. no one likes a tattle tale. that's why i only did him the one time. that spring in my step? gravity. don't be surprised when it glistens in the sun. don't be surprised when it leaves without a sound. don't be shocked when it shares the same demons. it's you.

your

your words are half the story. your stories are half the truth. i'm partial to half the story. i'm half of the partial truth. i fully believe your half. and partially hate your truth.

you're pretty sneaky. you use technology like a doggy door to my good graces. i don't give a fuck about little efforts when they're smashed by your overwhelming cowardice. you use logic to hide your crumbling confidence. anger to hide your disgust. now, were we talking about my indiscretions or yours?

your mustache makes you look like a sexual assailant/serial killer but you're frighteningly more sexy with it. i cant remember the last time you made me cry. i cant remember the last time i thought i couldn't live without you. but i remember the last time we drank beer at your job and tried to find articulated skeletons to buy online. and i remember the time i left your house for another boy. i remember missing you and not regretting it.

you. who the fuck are you. i don't know you or anything around you. i'm guessing neither does anybody else. even if you think they do, they don't. shit, i could be wrong. i don't know what the fuck you think you're saying but you say it pretty well. ha. laughs bouncing off strangers. stick to the basics we know. i'll say less when i know more.

you're the last person that made me make an ultimatum for myself. you're the last drunk i stuck up for for purely selfish reasons. you cast such a comforting and isolated shadow for us i often forget it's mostly the booze and boredom. you're the sweetest asshole i know and a terrible part time friend. i used to like your literal brutality and your cooking. i feel worse than valley trash. fuck, that's sad. 

Timeout. Let me just say trading real sleep for alcohol induced sleep weighs just as heavily in the morning if you spend it staying up late to write stupid shit about boys. Game on..

snuggling in a cold and empty room warmed by you and Whiskey. plans to move to Finland. sloppily narrated bedtime stories. voicemail full of songs about pirates and me being black. crying in front of me. several times. loving and fucking simultaneously. showing me your guns. singing me your songs. tiny fragments of tiny moments. 

tell me how wet i taste when your life's a fucking desert. i'll do the same. its easy to focus on the only warmth in the room. it's just as easy to block the only light blinding your eyes.

incomplete

i can feel the science of my body. the mechanics of cells. like an instrument set in motion, i feel the wheels turning. i am neither cold nor set aflame. i am not a tyrant or a cog. i have no destination just an immediate purpose. my goals are vapor and my drive is porous. my hands are clockwork. my eyes are amoebas. my hair is dust. all around me i seek a purpose i've yet to find. all around me i see a purpose i've yet to feel. i'm powering myself like my own puppetmaster. i feel absent. i'm only connected now by memories and obligations. my skin is microscopic tentacles reaching out into your pores; wanting to inch my way into every nerve, satisfying every part of your being. i am nobody's purpose. your body is faulty wiring and i can fix you with my tongue. sometimes i think you worship fear. who doesn't want to personally know every inch of their body like a mechanic knows a motor? i wanna seep through you like rain through the earths soil and leave my mark for all to see and feel. i understand you and you know thats one of the most beautiful things in the world because it makes you feel at home. people can love but to understand brings someone to a place in you thats only frequented by one other person, yourself. its like having a best friend in your head heart and soul. i'm your clean slate. i'm your demon. i'm antimatter. i'm your stone cold muse. i'm your etch-a-sketch; shake me too hard and you'll erase all that was every imprinted on me. i'm the wanting and the fear. and if you think i've sunk too low, i'll put the Mariana Trench to shame. i'm your sea serpent. i'm your rock n roll whore. i'm the closest your gonna get to tangible omnipotence. i'm as far as you're gonna get and i'm gone. just because something is real doesn't mean its true. i can feel the dust of your bones on my skin. i can feel the cold tile of your bathroom floor. i'm home. aren't you happy that i'm your frankenstein? i hope you got your secret decoder ring..

You.

My heart swells.
 Literally, I think.
 My heart beat is irregular and my breathing slightly disturbed. This is not your doing. You start to talk and everything in me listens. I'm calmed and missing. All melts away. I'm not tense or sad. Disappointed or in yearning for you. I already have you. Years could pass and you could pass through a million hands with every intention touching your heart mind body and soul and i'd still have you. You know it too. This is why I leave you smiling. This is why i feel euphoric as I drive away or hang up the phone.

 You leave me satisfied.

 This is not about ego, attraction or intelligence (although you do not fail in any of those aspects), nor is it about love or desire (even though you instill these feelings in me). I know its not these because at this moment your not here. This would not give you any power or added confidence because you don't need any. You get plenty of attention and praise from others close to you, you don't need mine (but you like mine because it sounds like your own voice). 

You might not read this and even if you do, you might not think its about you. My eyes start to water sometimes when I think of you. Just for a minute and then its passes. A little release because you give me something better than love:
 You make my world timeless.
 You make me eternal.
 You do this for no one else and you do it just by being. Its so simple like an idea or a candle. I expect nothing from you. I live my life from day to day and and I talk to you when I talk to you and I see you when i see you. Of course it would be nice if i could have these moments more frequently or whenever I chose to; but like all gifts, they can be used, abused, misunderstood and broken. They can rust if left untouched by misguided hands. They can be stolen lost or simply forgotten.
 I choose not to waste my little grain of Fantasia sand. I hold on to whats left with gentle hands, feeling it grow as we grow and enjoying every moment we have until we... well, we'll find out won't we?