uhuh uhuh uhuh uhuh uhuh uhuh uhuh.
I am wallowing in last years mud. Only 10 more hours and it will melt away, like snow or wax or skin. I feel betrayed by the world, it spits me out naked and clawing, and I am shaken to see that nothing is how it appears. Honesty isn't what it used to be. Or maybe it never was.
I am watching Kung Fu Panda. I am prodding everyone's soft spots.
I like to make things difficult. I laughed a lot this morning, it was sweet.
Killer. Tubular. Dude.
my new years rezz is to be less intense.
also to quite drinking.
and smoking weed.
itll be good :)
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
mad morning
I was to be crucified. My dream taught me that it was because I had done something wrong, and everyone was in on it. I was disturbed, but new that I would escape.
Its sunny today, the first time I have seen the sun in far too long.
The man who wanted me dead, was an old friend of the family, one who had not seen me in years. Apparently he did not like who I had turned into, calling me a disgrace and a freak. I was to be mounted like Christ, at 2:30 pm. I asked my dad if he would try to get me out of it, and he said no.


My father approached me last night, and asked me if I would consider smoking American Spirits. "If you're going to do something deadly, then at least do the least harmful version". I don't really care. I don't really know. The days are blending together, and I am going crazier by the second. I can't handle anymore of this sitting around, waiting. Even though I am fairly social, and...movin' around...but its hard. I need to leave, to jump the nest, fly the coop! I'm ready for more, for something real. I'm starving to know myself, and thats just something I cant do here, anymore. I've gotten all I can from these sheets and cold winters.
Its sunny today, the first time I have seen the sun in far too long.
The man who wanted me dead, was an old friend of the family, one who had not seen me in years. Apparently he did not like who I had turned into, calling me a disgrace and a freak. I was to be mounted like Christ, at 2:30 pm. I asked my dad if he would try to get me out of it, and he said no.
My father approached me last night, and asked me if I would consider smoking American Spirits. "If you're going to do something deadly, then at least do the least harmful version". I don't really care. I don't really know. The days are blending together, and I am going crazier by the second. I can't handle anymore of this sitting around, waiting. Even though I am fairly social, and...movin' around...but its hard. I need to leave, to jump the nest, fly the coop! I'm ready for more, for something real. I'm starving to know myself, and thats just something I cant do here, anymore. I've gotten all I can from these sheets and cold winters.
Monday, December 29, 2008
4:41
I'm falling and masking nothing. We all break down. If I fail to the rest of the world, what am I? All of my dreams are holding tight to the coat tails of a silent scream. If I don't know myself, then I can't find what I am looking for. I can't forget the negatives because they are laced across my skin. My heart is a fleshy organ, nothing more.
sloppy ketel
I am the thunder clouds that trace the sky grey.
When day ends, I am that slide from skyline to mud.
The shift from today to tomorrow.
I am windless and your fingertips, as they tap dance your name across your thigh.
The morning after when all you want to do is forget.
I am the checker board pattern that decorates your shirt.
The glint in a gasoline soaked puddle.
I am in Mr. McGregors garden sampling the lettuce.
I am ears pricked, tail high.
I am hot desert.
I am hard wood floors, scuffed from steel boots and roller blades.
I am trash cans too full.
I am scraped knees.
I am the snake that taught you how to bite. Let you believe it would all be ok.
I am the one who danced with you in slow sunrise.
I am the forgetful mother, the detatched father.
The empty bedroom, the "don't worry its just a phase".
I am your heartsick daughter.
I am your laughing goddess.
I am the smell of diesel fuel, ob rubber boots. I am the peacock who lost her eyes.
I am a harpie, loud laugh and bare breast.
I am cold.
Yellow handle bars and mustard.
I am tomorrow and the day after.
I am never again.
I am "Please give me one more chance"
I am "It will get better"
I am "Its nothing personal"
I am a semi precious stone.
I am the dry leaves that crackle under your toes.
I am. I am. I am.
I am the crowded room that you must give an important speech to.
I am the empty glass, the yellowing skin of your favorite aunt.
I am a cigarette butt in the back pocket of your jeans.
I am frantic.
I am closed for a private party. I am up too early,
and out too late.
I am too late. And its too late.
I am the rationale that you use to believe its too late.
I know the bartender in these parts.
I gave a bartender a joint in these parts.
I am these parts.
I am the "on" switch
and the "off" switch
I am the "Attention Shaw's shoppers: Shaws will be closing in five minutes. Please proceed to the front for your final check out, and please, have a good night" switch.
I am banking on this idea and shutting the door.
When day ends, I am that slide from skyline to mud.
The shift from today to tomorrow.
I am windless and your fingertips, as they tap dance your name across your thigh.
The morning after when all you want to do is forget.
I am the checker board pattern that decorates your shirt.
The glint in a gasoline soaked puddle.
I am in Mr. McGregors garden sampling the lettuce.
I am ears pricked, tail high.
I am hot desert.
I am hard wood floors, scuffed from steel boots and roller blades.
I am trash cans too full.
I am scraped knees.
I am the snake that taught you how to bite. Let you believe it would all be ok.
I am the one who danced with you in slow sunrise.
I am the forgetful mother, the detatched father.
The empty bedroom, the "don't worry its just a phase".
I am your heartsick daughter.
I am your laughing goddess.
I am the smell of diesel fuel, ob rubber boots. I am the peacock who lost her eyes.
I am a harpie, loud laugh and bare breast.
I am cold.
Yellow handle bars and mustard.
I am tomorrow and the day after.
I am never again.
I am "Please give me one more chance"
I am "It will get better"
I am "Its nothing personal"
I am a semi precious stone.
I am the dry leaves that crackle under your toes.
I am. I am. I am.
I am the crowded room that you must give an important speech to.
I am the empty glass, the yellowing skin of your favorite aunt.
I am a cigarette butt in the back pocket of your jeans.
I am frantic.
I am closed for a private party. I am up too early,
and out too late.
I am too late. And its too late.
I am the rationale that you use to believe its too late.
I know the bartender in these parts.
I gave a bartender a joint in these parts.
I am these parts.
I am the "on" switch
and the "off" switch
I am the "Attention Shaw's shoppers: Shaws will be closing in five minutes. Please proceed to the front for your final check out, and please, have a good night" switch.
I am banking on this idea and shutting the door.
burp
That was such a good time in my life. Who cares how it actually happened. Memory can be modified. Just ask Harry Potter. Or the CIA. I have no children. I want some. some. As though they are shoes. "A pair please. Size 8." I have lost my brain. I have lost my muse. Hey now, come back here so I can count your errors.
grime
Colored train tracks.
Fleckless heart.
I spun the empty changes in the sickly wind, fluttering my Cuban feet
my open thumbs. In dusty bedrooms we played with dice. We moved the bricks from the bed, hiding our aching backs form the ancient grins.
IN hot summer night our faceless worries slunk back to the sea.
Salty promises.
Each was nothing but a dream, claiming us in its entirety.
and slowly as the evening faded, out melting breath caught the last of
each mistake we never made.
Fleckless heart.
I spun the empty changes in the sickly wind, fluttering my Cuban feet
my open thumbs. In dusty bedrooms we played with dice. We moved the bricks from the bed, hiding our aching backs form the ancient grins.
IN hot summer night our faceless worries slunk back to the sea.
Salty promises.
Each was nothing but a dream, claiming us in its entirety.
and slowly as the evening faded, out melting breath caught the last of
each mistake we never made.
slow day
I watch all kinds of people now, some shock me, but mostly its the emptiness that steals me.
Tonight, I will make love with a woman who tastes like roses, and her hair will be wild.
Our mossy fingers will freeze, eventually and our lashes will fall, precise and dusky.
Just like the sun that is slowly floating up.
This is not love, we both know, and later when we wake, we will pretend otherwise,
so we can continue at our game
placid and long.
Last week, through torrential down pour, I caught a glimpse of the sun
and promptly ignored it. Its easier to pretend its a fog than to open my eyes to nothing.
I swallow dirt and darkness as if my bowels crave the grime and debris.
I am drunk off rose water and promises.
Pale breasts lay before me, a bed of flowers and calloused toes.
I am hot from the noose of bedsheets and sweat, sticky bodies in white light.
We are ending in the same tenacity in which I first discovered her.
The waiting and the ruin will stop my mind, cease the thumping that echoes every word.
The way my eyes wander, hear to bare soles. Naked in my loneliness.
I am watching the doors open and close
feeding my heat to the sleet and blue.
Tonight I will see the end of the world.
I will not close my eyes.
The way my
Tonight, I will make love with a woman who tastes like roses, and her hair will be wild.
Our mossy fingers will freeze, eventually and our lashes will fall, precise and dusky.
Just like the sun that is slowly floating up.
This is not love, we both know, and later when we wake, we will pretend otherwise,
so we can continue at our game
placid and long.
Last week, through torrential down pour, I caught a glimpse of the sun
and promptly ignored it. Its easier to pretend its a fog than to open my eyes to nothing.
I swallow dirt and darkness as if my bowels crave the grime and debris.
I am drunk off rose water and promises.
Pale breasts lay before me, a bed of flowers and calloused toes.
I am hot from the noose of bedsheets and sweat, sticky bodies in white light.
We are ending in the same tenacity in which I first discovered her.
The waiting and the ruin will stop my mind, cease the thumping that echoes every word.
The way my eyes wander, hear to bare soles. Naked in my loneliness.
I am watching the doors open and close
feeding my heat to the sleet and blue.
Tonight I will see the end of the world.
I will not close my eyes.
The way my
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