You're awful, I love you!

2009-06-17T09:06:00.000-07:00

do you feel it?

the bloods rushing through my veins,
going to my brain
its making me dizzy,
the things that miss me

im a target without a bulls-eye
an eternal life form waiting to die
a force to behold
yet im so alone,
stark white, the colour of bone

a buried memory,
a + b without c,
a volcano that's gone cold
an ancient being
that just won't grow old

so whats there about me?
a vague misunderstanding,
taken out to sea,
violence is always the key,
the secret to any home

a criminal on the run
a killer, your neighbor
a soul without favor
your not the only one.

hey look at me, im an art fag!

2009-06-09T09:58:00.000-07:00

UNFINISHED

UNFINISHED

UNFINISHED

UNFINISHED

trash?

2009-06-03T08:52:00.000-07:00

trash can be a lot of things.
you can talk it.
you can throw it out.
you can be it.
you can burn it.
you can see it.
you can smell it.
you can feel it.
you can touch it.
trash is brilliant, it knows no true form,
except the human interpretation.
its ignored by most, but offers food and clothing for others.
it can be waste. it can be treasure.
are we, humans, just God's trash?

the red barn

2009-04-30T19:32:00.000-07:00

I'm re-calling this as a re-occurring dream I keep having. It very unique in a way because I had this dream 3 nights in a row, one night featuring one of my best friends cooper who just so happen to have a cabin that is bright red in the middle of the woods that her great grandfather built. I DID NOT KNOW THIS. She asked me to explain the cabin, and I explained everything that i could remember. Everything that i said corresponded with the cabin that she goes to every year.

The place is cold, and the woods are thick. I'm all alone in the sense that the house..or barn or whatever it is is all alone. Physically, I am not alone. The barn is bright, violent red, a stark contrast to the surrounding trees of soft browns. i don't even recognize much green. Just all brown. compared to the blot of red that is the place. there is a river in front of it, clear green and still. It is also cold. A girl stand at the edge looking into the water, maybe throwing some rocks into it or something. She is alone at first. The water begins to ripple and it appears that young man is swimming up to her, he is handsome, and at first she enjoys him. Something happens that i don't remember exactly. He...isn't right. Something about him is unnerving and more or less frightning. From what i remember, gets hazy. But then I see her running up to the bright red cabin. The front door is situated behind a rather spacious front porch. Old wooden rocking chairs are placed all around. She opens the doors and runs into the kitchen. She is frantially searching through all of the cabnits and droors. Everything is old and wooden and creaking. Then one night I had another dream that I was in the back of a car with Cooper, and we were driving down a rode in the middle of the woods. We were going to the cabin. i didnt want to (I even talked in my sleep "i dont wanna go" as my boyfriend told me without even knowing what my dreams were. I even woke up screaming) we arrive in the cabin and at first were alone. But then the people appear, the girl is in the kitchen again and I can feel her fear. It seems no one else sees her. I keep seeing the water. While I am not her, I feel as she is feeling and it is pure fear. Something has happened to her or them , and I dont know what. Im hoping that perhaps I'll be graced (or cursed) with yet another dream tonight.

very old

2009-03-24T11:02:00.001-07:00

2002
"Group Poem"
a.k.a only me.

Only able to select words from a word bank.

Man, Woman
Murder
Content with
Anger and hate.
Despair is
Their affection,
Malice is their love.
Cobwebs behind
Their sorrow,
Icy cold,
As a fate.
Man, Woman,
Murder
Malevolent
Stone sea
Death as a friend
Killing hour,
As they cower,
Their family.

PROPERLY FUCKED;

2009-03-14T21:51:00.000-07:00

everything blurs
the voices, they slur
all bet's are off, we've lost.

the anger, it cures
all of the metallic words

all bet's are off, we've lost.

make-up, it smears
through hell and the tears
all bet's are off, we've lost.

the darkness, it lures
and flesh eaten by birds
all bet's are off, we've lost

2009-03-13T13:38:00.000-07:00

bashing, smashing,
and sirens blaring,
blood and guts,
lights flashing,
insanity flaring,
just call me George Lutz.
Bang, bang, guns blasting
and tempers wearing
the hottest fashion, cuts.
shrieking, crashing
no sharing, voices blaring,

aw, skeet skeet

2009-03-10T21:54:00.001-07:00

quicksand slows my hands
makes me stand,
against all odds
what are my odds against these times
clocks, words and ryhmes
what can i do?
i must make up my mind
against all odds
feeling scared, ashamed and impaired
what can i do?
all my life, i've been so scared
to go out and thrive
to live my life,
against all odds
what can i do?
the fear it settles of being compared
to those I've judged
I'm just rotting, waiting, infiltrating
my head with the dead
what can I do?

... but just wait for the four horsemen.

wiohfihf;owifjw

2009-02-24T14:18:00.000-08:00

This story is about a young girl growing up in the new suburbs of Chicago in the 1950's.

She is in the 7th grade, her hair is in loose curls pulled back with a red bow. It is a light auburn like the color of faded mahogany. Her mittens are damp from today's snowball fight and her long black woolen kisses the wet ground slightly, her boots too large, but warm. One day while she was walking home from school in the winters cold, she spotted something. As she turned unto the road exactly one block from hers she blacked out. This is her story.

I SAY FUCK THA MOTHA FUCKAZ, THA MORE PEOPLE THAY KILL, DA BETTA IT IZ FO ERYBODY;

2009-02-20T18:18:00.000-08:00

This car is a metal coffin and,
I tried to live, oh baby, but how
am I? when your hand is holding
onto my neck like your about to die?
A silent death-grip bound in blood
and teeth. Each breath triggers
the clocks to suspend and slow.
Pretty soon the road ends and
baby, pretty soon there's no where
else to go. The trunks will smash
and twist, the glass will crack and hiss,
When our skin bashes in, and our
heads are outside in, Baby,we'll
both drop down past the ground
and fall into Below.

God Bless You, Son,

2009-02-20T15:57:00.000-08:00

"...Do you hear me? I am the Alpha and Fucking Omega, I am the mother fucking first and mother fucking last, I am the beginning, I am the end, And buddy, well, I'm holding this fucking cannon, and you got shit. I am your own, personal, Jesus fucking Christ. You better start prayin'"

Cocks Pistol.

"Your life ends tonight "

Shoots.
...there is blood everywhere...

yeah it's gay, but you know you would love it at the end of an action/gangland/shooter type film. I'm off today, my hair is pink and "plum" so I'm pretty satisfied with think. I'm waiting on my 1" tappers to get the fuck here, damnit Heather. And I start my left sleeve soon!!! Muy Bueno!

Dear Dreamland;

2009-02-19T21:02:00.001-08:00

Won't you please come to me?
Won't you please comfort me?
Won't you please take me away?
I'm on my hands and knees, begging,
oh won't you come, won't you stay?

Won't you please hold me tight?
Won't you please keep me warm?
Will you not make things right?
Will you not help weather this storm?

Oh Dreamland, please, make it stop,
make my head stop throbbing,
make my head stop ringing,
Let me fly, far, far away,
bring me away this one night.

Won't you please hurry up?
Won't you please give a fuck?
Dreamland, your empty promise
is making things ever worse,
That inevitable noir hearse
is closing in, with every moment
you fail to mend, Oh Dreamland, don't you fail me again.

Won't you please forgive my sins?
Won't you please help my binge?
Bring the dark, bring the dreams,
Bring the shadows, make me unhinge

Oh Dreamland you've come,
Oh Dreamland I've waited,
Oh how, Dreamland, I've anticipated ,
This one last time, this one last rhyme,
Oh Dreamland, my life on hold,
My life sedated.

the bodybag

2009-02-18T18:14:00.000-08:00

There is a bound and gag;
that my body is in,
that my voice in in,
that holds my limbs,
my flesh and skin, my
hands and knees, my head
and hair, my wrists, my mouth,
my heart, my lungs, my throat
my sweat, my sins, and my ankles is in.
There is a bottle and a rag;
that my death is in,
that my flashback is in
that my one last breath,
my heart-attack, and last
gasp, my last grasp at life,
my no going back , my final fine,
and my one last time is in.
There is a body bag;
that my soul is in,
that my love is in,
that my lust, and pride,
my pain, my joy, my hope,
my goals, my thoughts, my
emotions and dreams, my drive,
There is a box and tag;
that I am in,
that my toe is in,
until dirt gets in,
and maggots eat my skin.

THE SERIOUS CASE OF:

2009-02-18T16:46:00.000-08:00

HER OVER DRAMATICS &
HIS BIONIC SCHEMATICS.

"Nevermind, Nevermind, You'll always be mine," She breathed into his ear,"If I kiss you tonight, it might be the last time," They're heads were matted and clumped with dirt and blood. Her hair was ripped and stuck in the door frame. His body was folded and limp, and there was no warmth left. "You told me you would never leave me, you told promised forever, why did you lie to me? why? Your grip on my heart is sometimes so painful and harsh, how am I to live without you? You promised me forever." The car began to moan and hiss, pieces of glass everywhere, most wedged in their flesh like specks of water after a shower. "Baby, she told us our love was like red, she told us it was like passion, she told us it was the color of blood. Oh, baby you told me not to believe...look at you now," Her fingers fumbled for the buckle, pushing hard on the red button, releasing her, and letting her fall. The car was flipped into a tree. The air smelt like burnt rubber and copper. The ground she landed on was warm, and moist with sticky black. He was still strapped into the seat, the car began to make a low growl from the engine. "Dear boy, if you miss your bedtime, why, you wont wake up on-time, but no one sleeps tonight, I'll be bionic the rest of my life, what you always wanted," She was on her knees , the metal coffin twisted around her. She smelt gasoline. "If I stay, we will both burn...Oh baby, I'll be your bionic women tonight, all of your heroes are dead. You finally got what you wanted." She kissed him one last time, leaving a red lip-print on his fair, bruised, skin, and turned toward her door. The air around her began to ripple and began distorting what she saw. She banged the door with both hands and it finally budged open. Her leg broken, and a couple other things, but she was able to pull herself out of the vehicle. "You didn't lie. You'll always be in my heart, my machine... Always." She pulled herself away from the car, her skin damp with sweat, her body bloodied and broken. She was in cover, behind tree's. There was a loud clapping noise and then the explosion. The fire warmed her, even from afar. "One time, you told me...you told me you knew the secret, the secret to this life...it was death, baby, you never told me...you'll be my love forever" A white light surounded everything.

"It appears that around 2 a.m. this morning a young man and women were in a fatal car accedent. Authorities say that the young man had a blood alcohol level of .20 and lost control of the car. It appears the car flipped several times, and landed in trees, and then the vehicle proceeded to blow-up. They both died instently. Authorities have also been told from several sources that in the past months the young man recently got involved in the Satanic occult. Several sources also say it was a 'suicide and sacrifice'. It is still under investigation. God bless their famlies. "

There's something about your face, that makes me wanna cut it off. There's something about this place, that makes me want to scream

2009-02-10T21:13:00.000-08:00

Sleep,
Eat,
Love,
Fuck,
Kiss,
Shower,
Work,
Drive,
Smoke,
Drink,
Hug,
Cry,
Live
and Die.
Together.
Please, pretend like you actually know something.

Our hands warm and sweaty, our pulse vibrating through our thumbs, synchronized together.
Your familiar aroma welcomes me. You do not have to open your arms for me to know how you feel.
Puzzle pieces that fit, a problem solved. Little mysteries day to day leading to our fortune, our fate.
Our path is a long, and crooked one. I've got my good shoes on. Do you?
Danger around every bend, but Ive got your hand, and you've got mine.
Our hands will lead us on. Onward until the clock runs out, until everything is black.

the gateway [not finished]

2009-02-01T11:28:00.000-08:00

My name is Mable, and I'm stuck in St. Mary's Hospital for Children. They say I have a rare form of cancer, and that I might not live much longer. I'm only 12, I hope I make it to 13. I want to at least be a teenager just for a little while. Baxter, my older brother who is 14, says that when the minute hits that your no longer a "youngin'," you feel different. I can't wait to feel different. With all of these tubes they stick in and out of me, I havent been feeling very good. The medicine makes me hallucinate. I like to see little faeries roaming around my room. Soft, delicate wings of the palest pinks, blues and greens. Twinkiling happily, fluttering around, waiting for me to smile. My nurse, Kathy, plays along with me. She's a nice middle-aged women. Her laugh lines havent set in, so she still looks young. She has fire red hair and deep brown eyes. I love her hair, its different. My hair is just boring mud brown, and my eyes used to be ice blue, but ever since I got sick, they just look dull gray. Baxter tell's me I resemble my Mother. "You got her face shape, and her nose, and her freckles," He would always tell me. I wish I could have met her, but she passed away when I was just a couple months old. She died from Leukemia. Baxter doesn't get sick, like I do. I guess I get that from her too. Baxter says I also got her imgination, and that he doesn't care for that "Stuff, it's for women." Kathy began preparing all of the colorful pills I've been perscribed. "This one is cherry flavored, it's red and matches those cheeks of yours...and this one is blue, like blueberrys, and youre eyes..and look, I've even snuck this up here for you!" She handed me a sugar free cola, she's a nice lady. I giggle and take my medicine with my bubbly drink, it makes me burp, and I giggled some more. Most kids, when they see me, their eyes get wide, and they barely talk. I'm dying, but I'm not dead yet. I can still laugh and smile just as easily as you, Baxter or even Kathy, with her loose crimson curls. Her head resembled spiriling fireballs. But anyway, I turn 13 in four months, and the Doc's say I'll only last for two. Me being sick has made me as delicate as a hummingbird, small, frail, but I keep my my brain strong. It's all I've got. Sometime, I create worlds in my head, and with the medicine, I can see them sometimes. Glimpses of turquose water, completely still, other then the water slowly twisting and churning at the base of a waterfall. The water glitters, and smells like vanilla. The are smells like cinnamon. But these were only glimpses of images, I never got to explore or touch or feel the air kissing my face ever-so slightly...until Mr. Toad came. Kathy said he visited all the kids "like me," He was sugar coated and always happy. What she was telling me was that he cheered up dying kids one last time before...

I didn't like the sound of him. I was already happy, and bubbling with imagination. I mean, the hospital's plain white walls and bright lights, and constant soap smell drive me crazy sometimes, but it's what I have. I liked day-dreaming about tropical get-always. But they were fake.

Mr. Toad was a paperclip, essentially. I mean, he is thin and looks easily bendable. His height is a couple feet taller then me. If he has any other hair then a few black curls wildly looping out from under a short brimmed bowler hat, I'd never know. The hat is a deep plum color, which exagirates his tanned skin and jungle green eyes.

"Mable, I've heard so much about you," his voice delicate and smooth, like milk chocolate. At first, i think he is a normal man, just a boring old dope who has no children of his own, and all the time in the world.

My nose will itch, and I will be where I am meant to be. Maybe not this time period, and maybe not even this very world.

untitled [not complete]

2009-01-27T09:45:00.000-08:00

ACT ???

Female 1: "Ok, fine! I'll tell you about the...run in with the law incident, Ok, so awhile back, while I was living in San Fran, I met this guy, you know? Totally sweet, and totally hot. He asks me to go to the gym with him, and of course that's a great opertunity to, ya know, put on little spandex...and for him to put on little spandex. So we get to the gym, and totally hit it off. He's into just going to movies, and out to lunch, and even going to the mall with me..."

Female 2: "What's he look like?!"

Female 1: "Oh, dear, you know, some Rock mixed with Colin...a total babe... with a tight body, and really, really nice ass, an-"

Female 2: "What about the, ya know, spandex at the gym, what was in it!"

Female 1: " Well maybe I'd get to it if you would all kindly stop interupting me...but anyway, the spandex sitch. is looking FABULOUS. We get to know eachother pretty well...he's always winking and flashing smiles at me. We literally go get coffee, eat together, work-out together, everything!...except,"

Female 3: "Except....??"

Female 1: "Sleep together! ya, I know, why the hell not you ask? well...this is when it gets crazy. We go out to a bar that I've never been too. He tell's me that I'm sure I'd find somebody..but here I am just lookin at him, ya know? But anyway, I get into the bar- FILLED with hot guys- and start to drink, I get, like, the works...shots...margaritas...beer, everything, I mean, I'm feelin a little down and out about the Mark sitch, so I simply just drown away my sorrows. He comes up to me and tell's me we should probably get going, "Back to your place" I said, I mean, I wasn't thinking. He just laughs at me, we get into the car, and head back to my place. By this time I'm feelin' pretty decent, so when he leans over, I like, try and kiss him-"

Female 2: "No you didn't!"

Female 1: "Oh yeah girl, I did...and then a whammy happens, he tell's me I'm not his type! YA I KNOW! So we get back to my place, he parks and drops me off. So I'm feelin a little frisky, ya know, I'm gonna prove-"

Female 3: "Wait, you never told us, like, if he had a job or anything, is he a total catch, because I need to know this before you continue."

Female 1: "Well, if ya would just let me finish...anyway, I get to thinkin about things like, He aint never told me about his job, and when I think about it, He does disapear a lot, but I'm so drunk, I don't care, i get to scheming. So his apartment isn't too far from mine, only about 4 blocks, I think I'm good to drive, I get into my car and head over to his place. Just wait, just wait, so I get there and i get out...you won;t believe what I'm doing, I'm literally naked, OK? butt naked, except for this long rain coat I have, Ya, I'm gonna show him I can be his type ya know. I'm so drunk, I dont even care that it's cold out. I walk up to his door and knock-"

Female 3: "I can see so many things going wrong....oh my God don't even tell me he's-"

Female 1: "HE OPENS THE DOOR, I OPEN M JACKET! and ya just guess what, just guess! HE'S GAY, AND A COP. A GAY COP, of course I htink to myself..I'm in San Francisco , how could i be so dumb! So I open my jacket, he get's offended, arrests me, takes me to jail, the works! and I'm naked under this goddamn jacket the whole time! My skinny ass is sittin; in a holding cell, NAKED! So I pay bail and get out. Im a freakin; criminal for indecent exsposeur! and seriously offending a gay man!"

H is for...

2009-01-25T00:13:00.000-08:00

no. 4
Simplicity gone,
The weather ever changes
Like feelings for you.

Bad Habits [not complete]

2009-01-24T15:31:00.000-08:00

The road was cracked, filled with potholes, and on the sides brown sludge and gritty snow accumulated.
The weather was rainy here and there, like it wont just make up it's damn mind,
sometimes acting human like...always unsure, always debating.
I'm looking for someone, actually I'm not looking at all.
I already know where she is. She's a young girl, and she's in a lot of danger.
My heavy boots clunk and clap in the brown grimy puddles of the dark and narrow alley.
Other then myself making noise, everything is looming, and quiet.
I'm on a mission, and the clock is ticking to my disadvantage.
I'm used to it, it always does. It's what I get for what I'm going to do.
I've been sent here to do someone elses business, not like I'm complaining,
It's the task I've been given, and my God, I'll make damn sure it's done.
I don't like failing him. I exit the alley onto an even dirtier part of the town.
The buildings were old, crooked and gnarled looking,
Twisted and broken.I could compare 'em to an old mans hands who had been working on railroads his whole life. But there was something beautiful in those hands...there's no beauty here.

The shadows begin to creep up to me, when I spot the building. No one has told me where she is exactly. But I know. I make my way through the dilapidated structure. The stair case seems to never quit winding around. I finally make my way up to the floor she's on. There are about 5 doors down the hallway, but I know which one it is. I kick open the door, the place smells strong of mildew and something else that's worse. I walk through the dingy rooms. The wallpaper is faded and peeled back, the floors covered with dirt, dust and the floorboards creek. I get to the room she's in. I pray He isn't with her. I push open the red shedding door, and there she is, huddled in a corner in the fetal position. There is someone else sitting next to her, his hand on her arm. "You bastard," I growl, and pull out my 357. They both turn and look at me. Her face sunken and gray. His smile like a knife. "I'm afraid you-and you're boss- are too late," He turned back and finishes injecting her with the drug. "She's mine now." he throws her arm away from him and turns to stand. I shoot him in the head, right between the eyes.His head splits in half, the hole is so big. The toothpick snaps between my teeth. He laughs and sticks his long slender pointy fingers into the hole. "Why, you'll have to do better then that," His face is young and pale, his build skinny and weak. Obviously, this is who had brought the girl into this sick lifestyle. Maybe a boyfriend, or a cousin. Anybody. The man removes his hand and begins to advance toward me.

Pills & Wine [not complete]

2009-01-23T18:14:00.000-08:00

I'm on escitalopram, benzodiazepines, and oxycodones.
Just simple pills, you know?
I drink a lot too, kind of. Yeah, a lot,
and my entire life I've never really been sure of anything.
This is my story; a story about my sad, boring, and ridiculous life.
And so it begins.
I'm 25 year's old, and
my frontal lobe is finally fully developed,
I wish to God it wasn't.
Now according to the standards of living in such a place,
I have to be responsible.
To actually make responsible choices.
I'm not ready for all that yet.
So now I get loaded, a lot, too.
I don't bother going to the slums and streets of this forsaken town.
My drug dealer has a PhD, and a fancy office, at the top of a tall building.
An onyx name plate with his name in etched gold.
Dr. Eryck Mathews.
My vice is simple; drink a couple glasses of wine,
and slip into a comfortable coma. It helps me...not feel..
or something like that, I guess.
Oh and since I'm letting you into my life and all,
I think I should tell you about another addiction.
Cigarettes. Only Kools. Nothing else.
I started smoking in my 10th, or 11th year of life.
It gets hard to breath sometimes, but really...
I don't care. Sometimes the only reason I
stand to wake up in the harsh glowing morning is to take
a nice, long drag off of my Kool.
The menthol burns my mouth and throat, and it feels good.
But back to the drugs. I could tell you my good doctor
gives me the drugs due to a legitimate perscription,
but that would be lying, and I'm bad at that.
My Doctor likes money, and I like pills, and I've got money.
A good duo, right?
My father was an industrialist. I'm well traveled, thanks to him.
He was the owner of a large tobacco company. Cigars, mostly.
I don't feel like getting into him right at this point of time, though.
Let's just say , when he died my mother and I were left with a lot,
My mother was never really around, I'm not sure where she is now.
I believe Paris, France.
But enough about them, now I'll get to the point.

I'm single. I get into awkward situations like a bad habit.
My life is full of bad habits, and I'm trying to quit them.
I'm on a quest to find self worth, when my entire life
has been shallow, and unsatisfying.
I will be going through withdraws, physical, emotional.
I'm working on the spiritual part.

My name is Chaplin...yeah, like the silent film actor.
Chaplin Saint Mac III.
If you really want to know why I'm telling you this,
well, it's because In a very short time, I am going to d i e.

Fast track back into time, let's say... a year.
The city is cold, and bitter dry, my face is chapped.
I must be in Chicago. I'm staying in The Silversmith Hotel & Suits.

A Begining. [not complete]

2009-01-20T16:23:00.000-08:00

The clock was ticking softly while his fingers tapped just as quickly on the wooden table. He was sipping a scotch on the rocks, he glanced at the clock again. He finished the drink in a single gulp, left a $100 on the table and exited the hotel's cafe before the waiter had even returned.

My long cloak, made of sturdy brown leather, splashed in the puddles, while the rain gently fell, my also leather cowboy boots keeping my feet warm and from getting soggy. I started to hurry down the dark alley, not wanting to miss my chance. My chance of redemption.
I'm a hired hit man, and I targeted the wrong person,
which ultimately ended in the death of an innocent.
It was mass confusion, and I took somebody's head off that did shit wrong.
The Boss wasn't pleased. Now I have to make it up to him in a big way.
Genaro Amadeo, is a leader of a pack of crones that my boss doesn't appreciate so much. He likes to go by, "The Kid", real tough.
He thinks he's a wiseguy, but no family has really claimed him. Maybe he was pissed no one wanted him, and decided to try and make a name for himself. Tough luck, kid. It didn't fucking matter, The Family didn't approve, and I'm here to fix the little nuisance. I have to get it right this time, or it'll be my head full of bullets, and not that low life's.
This hit might clear my head up a little.
I'm looking forward to a good, clean kill, not another stupid fucking mistake.
The last place I saw the kid, he was in Paulie's, a small dingy Italian joint downtown. Don't think I'm Italian, I'm not. I'm not part of the Family.
They just like how I kill, up until that last time.
I glance at my watch, it's time to get things going.
The Kid should still be at the diner. I have my pistol fully loaded
and silenced. I am ready. I walk out onto the wet black street, making my move to the Kid sitting at a table, alone. 'Odd' I think to myself, something is wrong.
An all blacked out Cadillac speeds in-front of me, blocking off my rout.
This can't possibly be good.  A large olive skinned man swings the passenger door open, he looks dead at me, looks back in the car, mutters
something in a forgien language. It's not Italian. As he looks back at me, I notice
there is a good foot difference between him and I. I think to myself that I better play this cool. He flashed me an Uzi tucked into his belt, open's the back door nearest me, and points into the car.  "Sure comrad." I get in.


He had been watching the other man in a long cloak from a distance.
In his jacket pocket, made from pure white Egyptian cotton, he pulled out a cigar, and lit it.
As a blacked out vehicle approached, he ducked behind a building.
"Che continua l'inferno"  He gently said to himself, exhaling smoke.
His face was smooth and light, his eyes dark brown. He had a mustache
that hugged his top lip perfectly, even ending where his lips did.
He took several long puffs from the Cubian,
put the lighter back in the silken pocket,
and headed off in the direction of the Cadallac.

Her body is my coffin,

2009-01-15T21:17:00.000-08:00

Bullshit Poetry.

no. 1
I love him amorously, and as deeply as the sea, figuratively .
The future hold's no promises, the same as a cold metal ring.
His body is shaped to fit around me, perfectly.
Perhaps this is for good, or just a passionate fling.
His love is captivating, and holds me undoubtedly.
But, from where I'm standing, it looks like a damn good thing.
We're both humans, mistakes are made, but forgiven, life goes on.
We're at a cross-roads. We're growing up, thinking about the future.
Maybe we're getting too normal, but never boring.
We've been together for so long, his finger prints feel like my own
we're leaving this place, it's empty and cold, but I know I'm not alone.
I'm comforted, and comfortable. Maybe not forever, but for now, it means the world.
This last year was hectic, and generally, pretty rough.
We survived, in this chaos, kid, and came out with hardened skin.

We're nothing but zombies, who care about fashion.

no. 2

I'm standing, red dirt as far as the eye can see.
The heat is causing ripples in the air, the wind,
fickle. A sign? are there truly signs in our lives?
Merely galaxies of questions, and no answers.
This place s hot and dry, but my skin grows sticky.
Still, nothing comes to mind. Nothing...Nothing...
Thirst begins to consume me, I notice the mountains.
They surround me, my face is cooled in a gentle wind.
These roads are going nowhere,Baby, and neither am I.

no. 3
Life at it's prime;
consuming, using, wasting
and trading, surviving,
controlling, judging
and, building...thriving and dying.

Are we just simple mammals
or the top of the food-chain?

Who really knows?
The religious leaders?
the government? the establishment?
the Buddhists, who won't even kill a cockroach?
The science books in elementary schools? Darwin?
who is truly Alpha and Omega? Man or God? Flesh or Holy ghost?
Is it all the same thing? Or are we born into eternal, spiritual debt?
Our minds are left to speculate, to ultimately criticize and persecute.
If one is lucky enough, they lack the ability to ponder.
To wonder, to dream, to imagine.
To just be boring, dull. Simple.
Complexity is a gift, and burden of mind and soul.
A Blessing and a Cancer.
The disease spreads, as we force antidotes into our bodies.
Our genetic code holds the only answer. Death.
We come from dust, and dust is what we will be again,
Grim Reaper, the messenger of truth.

I am the Alpha and the Omega,
the First and the Last,
the Beginning and the End.