I do not have any solid plans for tonight, I thought sitting in a leather chair a few hours before most parties would start tonight. Tonight is New Years Eve, One of the biggest party nights of the year. I could not attend the same party as last year, for last year I made a drunken fool of myself which is uncomfortable for everyone. I do have a few back up plans tucked away in the back of my mind, I always like having options strewn out before me with all their pros and cons. Also in the back of my mind is the haunting thought that no matter what I decide I want right now, I will end up getting fucked up. One of my options is to go bowling with some straight edge people, but I don't think i'll end up doing that. Not because I don't like them, but because the entire time I would be thinking of what good times I could be having elsewhere. Tonight I will reluctantly get tipsy. I will very willingly get drunk to help me feel better about that. I will wake up hung over and perhaps disappointed, or maybe just apathetic. I don't remember always having a problem. Before I went to the hospital it never crossed my mind that I might be overindulging myself or anything. I never felt like I had a problem until it was lectured to me that I was in fact an addict. Now that i've succumbed to their views I feel as if I can not say no to playing the part. Whatever happens tonight, tomorrow i'm still fleeing the scene.

A new year
A new start
Tonight people will make resolutions
Tomorrow they will be broken
Things will begin anew then revert back to how they were

Blue Christmas

i miss you
like you have died
i long for you
like a long awaited drink
i need you
unlike those habits
i remember nothing in my life
except for you

The dusk has always wished to meet the dawn and poets like myself have always talked about this. This world isn't about surreal beauties in occurrence however. This world is about getting by and making beauty be seen. There are scenes from my life stuck in my head like a bad pop song. Scenes of an angel in high heels. Of prevented death. of merriment. Of how I have lost so much I only have the world to gain these days. I remember this angel stepping in her oversized shoes in a very calculated way in the city of lights, eventually borrowing a lost friends high heels to make the journey. Up until a week ago I had no recollection whatsoever of the attempted suicide but now its as clear as the lonesome dusk. Countless memories of inebriated good times litter my mind like the snow fills the streets. All these things are past now and i'm left in a cold barren land wanting my angel back. The future is uncertain. The past haunts us. But that's what New Years is for.

Abandoning ship is easier when you aren't constantly reminded of the beautiful vessel

The flood gates have opened
and i don't. know. what. is. about. to. come. out.
i'm out of my rut but in my gut i feel a need for nourishment.
of the mind. the body. the soul.
i'm heading forwards but i'm out of control.

I'm in the starbucks

There's a girl in here with dreadlocks and gauges
and in my mind i'm going through the stages
of how to approach a girl because i'm so out of practice
and my skills aren't as sharp as a cactus
like they once were.

my writing needs more definition
no longer based on tradition
I cant see a point to this anymore
its as cheap as a street whore

An old man gestures to me while speaking to a child
because from across the room he can tell that i'm wild

I hate black coffee

The drums are beating in my headphones as the snow comes down with no end in sight. People without names stare forward as they pass by the windows of the coffee shop I have decided to camp out in. To me, the people in this town have no names. They are just natives to a foreign land. I drink black coffee now, instead of the old two sugars and two creamers. I remember once talking with friends in my hometown how you could tell us apart the way we took our coffee, like a fingerprint. She didn’t use cream but she used sugar. He took it black. He changed every now and then and was pretty new to coffee in general. This is all superficial though, and I know not what the point I was making was. I expected that the coffee shop I parked myself in would have wifi. It doesn’t. I consider moving shop down to the starbucks two shops over where I know they will have Internet. I don’t want to miss any opportunities of talking to friends back home. Back home. I’ve come to the realization that my old town will always be my hometown. You can never escape its whirlpool like effect. Not forever. I want some direction. I want to commit to something or someone. I want to nurture someone else. When you nurture someone else it has a way of nurturing yourself. I want someone to take care of, so I can want to take care of myself. The people and the cars still pass by, but this time with their headlights on and more glances to the wet ground. The other patrons in here are mainly by themselves as well except for two annoying girls laughing and giggling away. I think I’ll move shop over to the starbucks despite my two-dollar large coffee. I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel happy. I don’t feel.

Lets blacken our lungs
Like we blackened our hearts
Lets tangle our tongues
Like we mastered the art

three days sober

The tips of my fingers burn. I have just now quit my shivering.
The pain still lingers.
Slamming doors. Carrying luggage back and forth.
I love you.
Best friends? Best friends.
Ciao.
Hushed conversation. Teary eyes.

"...One day at a time" The young man, who in a month's time will just be a man, whispered to himself and his empty van. Cigarette smoke hung low in the van along with her scent, for she only departed a short time ago. The words spoken tonight came out as easily as one may convert a member of the Westboro Baptist Church. But it happened none the less. "I.. Have. A small. Problem." He whispered with a shaky voice to his former lover whom he still loved. The past five days he had been sipping on a handle of bourbon whiskey to self medicate, because the way he saw it there were less side effects to that than the anti-depressants. He poured the remainder of the Jim Beam onto the frozen roads of his small familiar town while whispering to himself again, "This is for me this time. Not anyone else." He grabbed a fresh pack of cigarettes from the glove box and thought that the most sexy thing a woman can do is light her man's cigarette for him. He thought of many things in that empty van. Thoughts of hope. Of the winter. Of summer. Her. His Birthday was rapidly approaching and that frightened but also excited him. He was becoming a man. One day at a time.

Coffee and Cigarettes. how original.

The atmosphere was similar but just as dissimilar with familiar surroundings and an unfamiliar amount of smoke hanging low in my vision. My shirt hangs loosely upon my body from squirming within it for the length of the car ride. The coffee pressed up against my palm is fresher than the cigarette held in the same hand, but both are very rewarding at this lonesome hour. Late nights turn into late mornings which for me mean late afternoons.

Bonnie and Clyde

And it was cold out but not quite winter like it is tonight, a much more forgiving coolness hung about the air. The two like souls shivered with nerves of excitement and fear roaring down the highway in the seats of a beat up pick up truck that was handed down from one generation to the next. Cans of spray paint rattle around in a stolen milk crate in the back every time a turn is taken too quickly, reminding them of their love for rebellion. The Moon is approaching more quickly now, taunting and welcoming them in unison. With their destination growing closer, their nerves and anticipation increase while their speed lessens. Pulling into the grass the Boy turns the headlights off, still moving forward. Eventually they come to a halt with a skid which unsettles them but for only a moment. They Boy and Girl look at each other smiling deeply with their mouths and even bigger with their eyes, excited for what they are about to do for the first time together. The door slams behind the Girl as she gets out and walks around the truck to her lover. He greets her bearing cans of spray paint. The Boy hands the Girl a can. they walk hand in hand towards the rusty giant that has been halted on the tracks for what looks like eons. In the dark they depict on the body of the train a scene of night time, or what they hope it will look like when the light reveals their artwork. Every approaching set of lights is assumed to be authority but none of them are. They Man and Woman are satisfied with their work. They leave, hand in hand. They walk quickly towards their truck which is no longer a truck, but a getaway vehicle. They race off into the darkness. the Man gingerly strokes the Woman's hand with his own, which is speckled with paint. They left their mark and they were gone.

The folks in the room were most varied he had ever seen. Some spoke to themselves while other ignored them, while a few trembled in fear and because their hospital gowns draped over them were a terrible excuse for clothing. The boy found his legs tapping repeatedly and didnt bother to stop. What do these people's opinions matter? Some people are angry. Some people are depressed. Some hate themselves. Some hate others. I'm just barely there. For ten days he only had himself, this assorted company, and his thoughts. Minds are left barren in that place, raped like a drunken girl at a party where there is no escape.

We've found each other after being lost in the dark for so long. So long in fact that we barely recognize each other, but the shadows and voices are more than familiar. The touch is lacking but more than a memory of what it once was. It is true what I said that I love you more than myself, but it is also true when I said nothing matters. But I will make this meaningless life as enjoyable as possible.

Beautiful

Thoughts turn to the hammer out in my van often these days. It's made to create things but I want to use it to destroy. Imagine what the back of a hammer would do to someone's jaw. Beautiful. Bleeding out with half a face. I have chills thinking of it.

I wish to no longer feel, but you taught me how to

Another sleepless night, like the ones I’ve become so accustomed to, greets me with a prankish twinkle in his tall eyes. I am completely sober so please do not disregard this. The road guides me through poorly lit neighborhoods, cold with the recent winter that has set into our tiny village and into my tiny heart. Driving and smoking and smoking and driving and smoking until my singing voice cracks from the poison and from the tears. I imagine you looking at your phone and seeing whom it is after two rings hanging up and turning back to your company, laughing and smiling. I want to hate. I want to get over it. I want to love. In the morning I will wake up with my clothes on and the taste of stale cigarettes on my breath and I will try to forget this pathetic display of emotion.

The good times have left like a train from the station and now the creative melancholy will fill it's slot. I should be grateful. Lets have a look see inside the grotto shall we?

Winter is coming for my heart, I need someone to huddle with for warmth.

Manic

"It really pisses me off when people try to finish--"
"Other people's sentences? Yeah, me too."

Mike's response to Ryan only amused him, being that he knew Ryan truly did hate that and was merely jesting. Mike and Ryan were Twins and not only did they look just like each other, they had the same likes and dislikes. However, Ryan was much more passive, whereas Mike always seemed a bit off in the way he dealt with everyday situations. When Ryan walks down the street, he does so like you or I would. However when Mike does, Everyone is watching him and thinking about him and talking about him and plotting against him. Well, not really. But it is as real as could be to him. Mike is Violent when Ryan is slow to react but quick to act. Mike Hates. Ryan Loves. In his better times Mike simply just doesn't give a fuck and is more passive than you can imagine, He could watch his Family die in a car accident and not bat an eye.

The only person Mike gave a fuck about was Ryan. He didn't even care about himself most of the time, acting as a self saboteur generally. Slowly Ryan found himself doing things he wouldn't normally do or being told he couldn't be told apart from his twin anymore. Ryan rationalized by saying he wasn't becoming more like Mike, but just different than he had been. Everyone Changes, don't they? Yes, they do in fact. But the object is to change into something you can be proud of. Ryan was no longer sleeping, he and mike would go out at night and setting off car alarms and steal from Walmart. They would do drugs and offer to go and pick up their friends drugs just for the fun of it. Ryan's grades began slipping and he was now a smoking, drinking, freaked out human being. Mike already was that, and was quite good at it. They would often blow off their friends to get high or only hang out with friends who did get high. They were having a good time destroying everything insight, including themselves.

One day, Ryan and Mike were Sitting on a bench at a train station. Waiting. Not for a train, just waiting. Ryan turned to Mike and looked at him for a long time.
"Why do we do this to ourselves and everyone around us? Everyone fears for us so badly."
Mike got up from the bench and watched a train coming their way as he stood completely still, pondering the right words. He approached the tracks slowly, timing his approach carefully. Ryan assumed that Mike was simply Going to play chicken with the train like he had done so before many times.
"Because. Nothing matters."
The train splattered Mike's Body parts and fluids in a twenty foot diameter, sprinkling slightly onto Ryan's winter coat. Ryan just sat there. Waiting.

chilled like a child

emptiness. from a lack of outer input.
loneliness. behind a glass wall.
distance. close enough to scream at you.
cancer. killing me slowly inside.

frigid.
heavy.
my thermostat and barometer reading.

Right now
I think of times I was sick and my mother took care of me


Eating a large bowl of hot soup has some sort of satisfaction that you cannot put your finger on
It fills you with warmth, satisfaction, and nourishment
You never feel like you've just eaten too much, it doesn't overwhelm.
Despite how I should feel, I feel comforted right now


Russian marching music
I like listening to this
I dont know what theyre singing about
But it doesn't matter
They're goddamned proud of whatever it is

Disgust

You're a tiger with no claws
A python with no jaws
You're a man with no brain
While I'm just a man going insane
I think of murder everyday
Another day another way
To take a life
With my hands or a knife
Poison or hammer
Now my bloods flowing, I no longer stammer
Thinking of your death excites me
Ignites me
It is a drug
I choose to choke
Rather than to hug

i heard you knew the name of a king
you gave him your life
you gave him everything
i heard you find comfort in his word
you are a wasted mind
you are a flightless bird

Mike

"I want to hang a man by his feet, then cut his carotid artery", said Mike, "Just to watch that six quarts of blood flow."
"Now why do you want to do that Michael?", Asked the other voice in his head.
"I want to see that bit of life leave his eyes, the realization he is going to die. It gives me chills just thinking of it."

Health

The mind of a killer
It is filled with boredom and contempt
Longing for something to feel
Something to take the place of this emptiness
This feeling is a person of it's own
Whispering in my ear to turn on my own kind
Showing me things my mind know are grotesque
But my heart feels they're wonderful
Life is not so precious...
I whisper to six billion.
Life is easy
Look at the the trailer parks.
They are the third world of America.
seeing a man a man die horrifically,
This does not repulse me
Slaughter, Disease, Mutilation
I watch unflinchingly and think
This will cure us

fall

people always talk about change
being good
being bad
being necessary
with the change in weather comes a change in mood
we must now roll our windows up when we drive with the lights passing us
when we pass by the smokers on the sidewalk while we do the same
we must only crack the window to let the demons out
there are spots of dried spit on the windows displaying carelessness
we will hide inside from the evils approaching our door
we will shut the windows and turn the lights off
we will do it together

Midwest Horror Show

The events that unfolded upon the night of September the 18th, in all of their shockingly gruesome nature, are completely true. If you suffer from a heart condition or have small children present please read no further.

The night air was crisp as they headed east towards the border of Indiana, the home state of Clarice. Clarice was a strong willed red head with a laugh that would shake a man's soul. It was her cabin that they were all going to for the night, to take a break from their tired college town. All of the teens and twenty somethings in the car, although from different states, were children of the mid-west and used to long flat drives with nothing but corn fields to look at. Charlie was driving with some soft delicate sounds playing through the radio, though it was Sher's car. Charlie was a hopeless romantic too nice for his own good, him turning his brights off rounding a turn reminded Sher of this while she sat in the passenger seat. Sher never seemed to get much into a conversation edgewise but when she did, she always made it count. Don and Amy sat in the back saying things that made the rest of the car burst into laughter always on cue like the studio audience at some sitcom.
Their journey was mostly behind them just like the setting sun had been an hour or so ago. The last stretch of road was the tricky part Clarice had told them earlier. It winded and was densely forested unlike the ninety degree roads they had taken most of the way. Just as Charlie was taking yet another turn in this unlit country away from everything and everyone, a silhouetted figure was struck by the low beam headlights of the small SUV. Brakes Squealed in protest as Charlie maneuvered the full car like only an experienced driver would, stopping twenty yards ahead of where the now vanished figure had been. Right as all this commotion had been in full swing Noni had been the loudest, yelling "Oh crackers Charlie watch out!". The two men got out of the car as their role of men called for them to do so, walking to the area they had saw their near "target" standing.
"What was that, i wasn't looking when it happened?", said don a little worried but more excited than anything to Charlie.
"Looked like a person, but it was probably a deer. Here this is where it was."
The spot in question was only occupied by a thick coating of blood. Blood looks much different in real life than it does on television, it is dark, it is thick, and it eventually turns black.
"what the fuck." whispered Don
"yeah, it must have been a hurt deer that ran off" Charlie said in a level headed nature.
But if it hadn't been so dark out, and if they all hadn't been so distracted by fear, excitement, and longing for the cabin, they might have seen where the figure had actually gone to. A Bloody man with flesh hanging from his frame crept underneath the gangs vehicle with a Phillips screw driver, stabbing a hole into the gas tank letting the pungent liquid slowly leak onto the pavement. Then just like that the forest ate him up once again.
The presence of the two brave men was welcomed by sighs of relief from the young women in the vehicle, who had been whispering loudly and worriedly the entire time to each other. They explained to the shaken up girls that they thought it was only a deer that had ran off and nothing was the matter. Everyone was safe, for now at least. The cabin was only a few minutes down the road and the unpacking took minutes after that. Noni noticed a fireplace, and being the considerate person she was, had brought marshmallows on the trip. She began to make a fire, stacking the wood accordingly.
"Hey Sher, I left the marshmallows out in the car can I have the keys?", she asked.
"I'll just grab em, since you're busy with this."
"Thanks hon"
Sher ventured out into the dark abyss, it would take about ten minutes before anyone noticed she was gone.
"Oh my shit! sweet gun!" Don exclaimed noticing the double barreled twelve gauge shotgun above the now roaring fire.
"Oh ha yeah, that's my Grandpa's. He just keeps it for decoration now but he used to be a big hunter around these parts." answered Clarice.
"Whiskey!" exclaimed Charlie finding the liquor cabinet which also contained a box of 12 gauges shells.
"what terrible placement of ammunition", Amy said to him.
He didn't acknowledge her quip as he uncorked the bottle taking a long swig from the warm amber colored liquid.
"Hey, where's Sher? she's been gone for at least ten minutes." Said charlie to the group as he began to feel his entire body grow warm from the whiskey and the fire.
"She went to the car a lil while ago I think."
Just like any group of young adults would they decided it would be best to go out and look for her. They could have never had any idea what would ensue. The temperature had dropped low enough for them to see their breath in the air illuminated by their flashlights. They kept warm by passing around the bottle of whiskey from one to another, all taking in liquid that no longer burned their throats. After searching for some time, their worry increased a great deal. They had come to an opening in the woods, and a dark pond barely reflected the moonlight before them.
"Lets go skinny dipping!", demanded Don in a somewhat joking way that was backed by a minute amount of sincerity.
Everyone giggled at the idea except for Charlie and Noni. The two of them formulated a plan to go back to the car and drive around looking for Sher. As they began to venture back, Amy, Clarice, And Don had become oblivious as they began stripping down and getting into the frigid water. The three of them yelped as they plunged into dark water. It luckily had retained some of the heat of the day and was a bit warmer than the air. They began splashing each other playfully at first, and then a bit aggressively. While trying to avoid the onslaught of water Amy lost her footing, slipped, and fell under water. Don and Clarice laughed at her buffoonery until she failed to resurface.
"Goddamnit stop playing around", Clarice said to the glass like surface.
after what felt like a lifetime had passed Don began to lose his drunken cool, running and searching the water for Amy's body to no avail.
"no.. no... this can't be.", Don began to whimper.
Clarice was not as calm.
"WHAT DID YOU DO!? SHE'S GONE! HOW COULD YOU?!", She spat out at him while grabbing his wrists. If they weren't both in a panic the fact that they were naked would have made the proximity more awkward.
"I didn't mean to hurt her! how was I supposed to to know this would happen?", He answered back.
"We have to either find the body or get our story straight." Clarice whispered.
They stood in the frigid water nodding, starting the search they would never finish.
At about this time Charlie and Noni were discovering the car was out of gas.
"Oh no. no. no. no.", Noni began repeating at the sound of the engine failing to turn over.
"It's ok. We're not fit to drive anyway. im going to try calling her again", Charlie stated. just as the phone began to dial, Sher's phone lit up in the cup holder of the car.
"Shit."
Now clothed and much more worried, Don and Clarice attempted to formulate a plan while still sharing the near empty bottle. They realized there was no way around it. They had killed their friend. Clarice wasn't taking it so well.
"YOU FUCKING IDIOT! YOU KILLED HER! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU MONSTER!", She yelled as she whipped the bottle at don who just barely missed getting smacked by the glass bottle. It shattered loudly behind him right as Clarice jumped on him clawing his skin while literally spitting insults. Don had never hit a girl and he didn't want to now, but he was drunk and getting his ass kicked. In his panic, Don blindly grabbed the broken bottle while shielding his face from the blows Clarice was raining down upon him. He swung it once, but that was all it took. He began to feel warm and wet, and taste something metallic. Clarice's assault had stopped, she just sat there wide eyed holding her neck as it spouted blood. Don pushed her off of him and stood up. Don walked away, dropping the blood soaked bottle as the gurgling noises from Clarice grew fainter.
"Did you hear that?", Noni inquired as she and Charlie were giving up on the car, walking towards the cabin.
"yeah. sounded like yelling. lets get inside and wait for everyone to regroup."
Just then, Don emerged from the treeline mumbling to himself while looking at the ground.
"Oh its a relief to see you man. where are the girls?", said Charlie.
"They're... right behind me. did you find Sher?"
"Nah, the car won't start. It's outta gas."
"no. how can that be? this is all linked together. this isn't a coincidence. we have to get out of here." said Don, now looking underneath the car at the punctured gas tank, lying in the pool of gasoline.
"whats linked together?", asked Noni.
"they're dead. I killed them. It wasn't my fault though, it was the forest. the forest. it was the forest."
"What? you better be joking around man. don't fuck with me dude." Charlie strongly replied.
"No. it's true. we need to leave."
"Nonie, go to the cabin. Don come talk me through what happened."
Noni wore a blank stare as she trudged up to the cabin's front door and inside of it. feeling empty from the events that unfolded in the past couple hours. She watched Don and Charlie exchanging words from the window, she couldn't hear them but could tell who was talking because of the frost in the air expelled from their mouths. She glanced at the fire she has started earlier, it was still going. More importantly the shotgun above it was still there. she grabbed it, feeling it weight and power in her arms. Her friend Michael had taught her a little bit about guns, but she had never fired one before. Swiftly, as if her motions had been choreographed she went to the cabinet where the shells had been and grabbed two. While watching the conversation outside grow physical she loaded the gun and cocked it.
"You have to turn yourself in man! whether it was an accident or not it's still a crime!"
"no. we have to wait until morning." Don said dismissing Charlie as he walked towards the cabin, noticing Noni was now at the window holding the shotgun he had commented on earlier. Just as he was entering the wooden stronghold of the woods, Charlie rushed up behind him and tackled him to the floor.
Gripping the gun, Noni sees Don walking into the cabin while Charlie rushes him from behind knocking him to the ground. She doesn't know what to do, she doesn't want anyone to get hurt.
"STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU! STOP FIGHTING! STOP IT!"
A large crack rings out in the small cabin. The men look over surprised and see, a just as surprised, Noni holding the smoking gun pointing towards the ceiling. She's shaking and covered in debris from the now torn ceiling. Don got up and away from Charlie's grip, running towards Noni.
"Hey! You don't know how to use that! put it down before someone gets hurt!", He shouted trying to wrestle the gun away from her.
Charlie watched with awe as the last of his party struggled over a loaded firearm, noticing the heat from the fire and partly marveling at the fact it was still going. a second loud crack rang out. No yells. No cries. Noni fell to the ground, sporting a new gaping hole in her chest as Don held onto the gun with disbelief in his eyes.
"I didn't mean to. I swear. I just didn't want her to hurt anyone."
"Just like you didn't mean to hurt Amy or Clarice!?", Charlie yelled while picking up one of the smoldering logs from the fire. Don dropped the gun to the floor, and dropped his hands to his sides. The first blow from the log, swung wide and fast, stuck Don in the head. As he fell to the floor he had already lost consciousness, but that didn't keep charlie from continuing to beat Don's motionless body out of anger. Don's Gasoline soaked clothes caught fire as one would expect. Charlie didn't seem surprised and Don wasn't awake to notice.
Charlie dropped the log to the floor, picked up the gun and ammunition and sat on the floor of the cabin as it slowly filled with smoke and the scent of burning flesh. Charlie sat Indian style loading the gun, staring straight ahead at the door. His eyes were lifeless just like the bodies of his friends.
Just then the door burst open and one last crack rang out in the cabin, as Charlie fired a gun for the first time in his life. He went over to see what or who it was he had just shot.
Lying in the doorway was Sher, covered in blood. In one hand she had a bag of marshmallows, in the other she had a bloodied axe. In her pocket was a Phillips screw driver.
Charlie dropped the gun to the floor and ran to her side and cradled her. Spitting out blood, she told him how she had encountered the man who had cut the hole in their gas tank.
"Get out of here alive. Do us all a favor Charlie. Live"
He didn't say a word. He just ran. He ran away from the now burning cabin. He ran away from the stalled car. He ran past the trees, nearly tripping now and then. He ran until his lungs burned. One foot in front of the other he found himself running into the clearing and into the lake. Before He knew what he was doing, he was submerged in cool water. Water that gives life just as easily as it takes life. He swam down and down towards the bottom that wasn't there.
He couldn't drown himself. He couldn't betray everyone else like that. When he came back up to the surface, he was no longer in the woods. He was also no longer in the Dark Nameless pond. He re-surfaced in his parents swimming pool in their back yard.
He looked around for some sort of answer or explanation as he began to tread water fully clothed, but all he saw was the dead body of Amy floating face down in the pool with him.
Charlie got out of the pool, stripping his soggy clothes from him and walked to his hammock. Laying down in the hammock, his dog hobbes came over to him and sat down by his side.

Today the thoughts returned
Along with the voices
I always knew they would
It's nice to have company

When I close my eyes I glimpse the past, present, and future all simultaneously. The things that are about to happen already did, and what already did can be changed. Our destiny is written by our father's father and he didn't have the end in mind.

When i close my eyes today
I see a bitter cold
My last hope remains with a fleeting warmth
that I long for once again

winter
it is a foreign army on the march towards our free land
bringing their frozen ways to grip our whimsical intentions of joy
we will lock our doors in protest
hiding inside under the covers
and the little demons will come out to play

broken bones
empty homes
mindless drones
reverberating tones
All Hail To The Metronome

these prescriptions
make me dizzy
keep me from dreaming
hinder my passion
they may calm the seas within me
but they darken the skies

Wake up
"Are you out of bed yet?"
Yes
"Did you take your medication?"
Yes
I'm watched with worrisome eyes every hour
every day
I haven't considered killing myself in months
I still don't
The price to pay is becoming the peg shaped to fit society
Society
Society says go to work
go shopping
go home
stay at home, everything will be fine
put your children on suicide watch if they act odd
I never meant to make anyone worried
All I wanted was to be happy
to have fun
to explore
to live

We're carrying a box together down a long, non-descript hallway. how did we get here? seems like a dream but now i can remember the beginning. It was by chance, we were both looking for someone to help us with this box. this box. It's heavy but I don't mind sharing the weight with you. After some time we decide to see what it holds within it. we open it, slowly. Carefully. water begins to to drip out of the box slowly at first, then uncontrollably. It's running out the top, pouring onto the ground as we continue to carry it. the waters level is at my shins now. It is warm and comforting to know it's there. we begin to hurry as I glance over at you. We begin to smile. Perpetually.

anchored

let me crash in the sea, not the harbor.
let me feel the waves swarm and smother me.
feel totally alone, nearly capsizing, almost lose hope.
so i may feel pride if i shall happen to live.
dont allow me to die slowly, gaining rust like the others.
so many others have failed yet never truly finished.
the tides will be my company, the winds my music, and my anchor our false hope.

lucid

turning over in my bed, i never did look at the clock. time right now is present but not on the forefront of my mind like it usually is. conversation takes place, but it is not important. knowingly i reach into the top draw and grab a pair of tattered jeans i haven't seen in years, i cannot see into this drawer but as soon as my fingers brush the cotton i know what exactly they look like. next i am wearing them, scissors in hand. i manage to perforate them without stabbing myself and cut them off above the knees. perfect. stabbing myself however never came to mind. nor did pain. am i feeling right now? why is there no noise upstairs? whatever. i go upstairs. deserted. into the kitchen. likewise. turning around i see the recently exited living room is filled with people and quite warm with the company. think nothing of it. i walk through and just stand there. stand. my legs. i dont feel them. oh. there they are. those occupying this space are just company and thats all they are. books without titles or words on the pages. no one acknowledges my presence but continues, looping in the same mindless activity. just watching television. was the tv over on that side of the room earlier? yeah. must have been. we move furniture around all the time. keeps the house free of excess dust i guess. think nothing of it. nothing.
nothing.
nothing.
"you have terrific eyebrows." anne says to me
anne and i are in my truck driving in a local neighborhood to my house from. well. im not certain.
"thanks doll, you're too nice to me."
"its hard not to be" she replies
i lean over in the truck.. hold on, truck?
i lean over in the truck and kiss anne while driving, nearly hitting a car.
makes me think of something Einstein once said. something about if you can kiss a pretty girl while driving safely youre not giving that kiss the attention it deserves.
anyway.we laugh as the folks look amused at our attempted automobile smooch/near wreck. and we look at each other and go for another. shortening the distance between us. eyes leaving the road. wait. how can this be? anne is still at her parents house, right? did she come down early? when did she get here?
i awake.

drugs/racism

"lets not pretend that we're classy." mitch whispered to himself staring in the mirror. dried blood stained his cracked lips from where he unconsciously gnawed away at them in his slumber the previous night. his eyes were sunken from nights of clenching them shut with no avail to them staying that way. a tattoo marked his lower left calf that simply displayed an upside down cross. many would think it was beautiful if it wasn't inverted. his ragged clothes were his way of adapting to the weather, which was hot, bright, and merciless. his recently shaved head was peeling a bit from the unforgiving sun. "ok. today. its today" mitch whispered again to his reflection as he strapped on his watch. walking up the stairs to the front door he slips on his sunglasses and places a cigarettes in his mouth whilst grabbing his main mode of transportation. "need a new board" he says to himself. mitch is out the door and down the street carving in between the yellow lines on road, not caring whether or not he will get hit by a car. strenuous activity while smoking is not something the casual smoker does, it is something the long addicted chain smoker must do. he pushes most of the five miles to where he is going but is welcomed by a few downhill cruises, and finally he reaches his destination. the corner of 3rd and jacobs street. "theres that fucker" mitch says once again to himself while spotting lemont on the corner. lemont wore black. black shoes, black jeans and no shirt, but his black torso shone with sweat in the sun. mitch skated fast towards lemont and kicked his board out from under him sending it fast at his shins. he jumped out of the way barely missing it in time, but not missing mitch's fist as it swung wide and fast. "da fuck!" spat out lemont as he recoiled in pain. mitch just stood there breathing heavy as lemont grained his bearings and began staring back his white counter part. "you owe me two hundred, where is it?" said mitch. "ill have it by the end of the week, it's been slow the past few days yanno? not very many people looking for blow dawg."
"end of the week? try tomorrow, or your black ass is history."
"aight, i got it man."

fictional biographies are trendy.

the bar was about a ten minute drive from the store, but it was still technically in town so they had to deliver there. mike casually enjoyed these longer deliveries because it gave him time to smoke and think and not to worry about hurrying. the bars double entrance gravel parking lot came up quick on him like it always did when delivering here and he almost didnt make the stop. finally traffic let him sidle his way in and he began searching for a parking space which proved more difficult than one would think at a bar on a sunday evening. mike carefully pulled in between a dumpster and an old wrecked stock car that was giving company to an old light up sign shaped like an arrow. the smell of urine was heavy while empty cans littered the ground like dead flys. mike made sure the windows were up and the car was locked after grabbing his insulated bag from the passenger seat of his car, a car that reminds him and his family of his grandma. she is still with them by the way. back to our pizza boy however, he walked up to the door slowly while reading the name of the customer and memorizing the total. the front door leads to a small room/hallway which leads to another door. the walls of the hallway were lined very symmetrically with advertisements for drink specials. dollar can of natural light. fifty cent draft wednesday. et cetera. his mind had been repeating the name of the customer and the total over in his head but as he passed these signs he took a second to read them, then continued into the bar. a nameless classic rock ballad blared and meshed with the sounds of hooting and hollering while making mikes voice sound like that of a child calling for his parents. finally two middle aged women flagged him down, grinning stupidly. "you look just like johnny depp, but im sure lots of people tell you that." she said slurring her words already at seven in the evening.
"your total is thirty three fifty seven."
"how much?"
"thirty three fifty seven"
"oh. ok. here, consider this a special trip"
handing mike a wad of random bills
"thanks have a good.."
she had already turned around handing the boxes to those around her, so mike didnt feel the least bit remorse for counting the money right there. six dollar tip. not bad, but not what he would consider a special trip. as he walked out the first door he heard someone shout "who the hell delivers all the way out here?"
and then just reverberating garble as the door closed. he stopped once again, reading the fliers for drinks. "a drink sounds so soothing", he thinks. he tore his eyes away and walked out of the bar with a dry mouth. the gravel crunched noticeably beneath his feet and a middle aged couple outside smoking looked up quickly at him, one saying "hey hows it go.."
"fuck off"
the lights were turned on and he could now see the sign advertising "live girls monday and wednesday" mike made a noise that sounded like spitting disgust out of his pursed lips and got his pack of cigarettes out to get the taste of filth out of his mind. he only bought cigarettes that weren't lights. he wanted it to hurt a little bit every time. and she was on his mind once again as his tires left gravel and met paved road. mike pulled out his phone from his pocket, which is not a simple task when the other hand is holding something on fire. he pushed the recent call button knowing that she would be right there.
ring
ring
ring
ring
no answer besides that from a recording simply saying "anne" and then a beep as mike holds his phone painfully close up against his ear.
"hey anne, it's mike. just wanted to call and tell you that i love you. so. i love you. bye."
the trees pass by and he is on his way towards another destination.
"a drink sounds so soothing."

lets start writing stories again shall we?

forget it

too many voices drown out the whisper that must be heard.
the television drowns out the child's screams.
this rain drowns out the homeless man's mumbles of despair.
the gas drowns out the air in sylvia's lungs.
the telephone rings. and it rings. and it continues to ring.
dont follow my blog unless you actually care.

the pebbles and glass felt good beneath my feet whilst i walked from the parking lot back to my apartment. sort of like a hundred cold and sharp tiny blades of grass in a changing world. i went for a drive because i couldn't sleep and to have a cigarette and to help myself think. i smoke when i'm depressed or worried. so i smoke a lot. i know i said i was quitting but there will always be time for that in the future when we're a little bit happier. the roads passed by five miles per hour less than the limit. there isn't any hurry to get nowhere. my exhales of smoke left my mouth to join the thick fog outside that encompassed me. i have always told you that "i am afraid of pain." "..not death." "i love you more than i love myself." these things i have said are true. gather from this what you will. my roommates are feet away from me, but they could not be farther away from knowing what i feel. permanent indications of the future have been made. goodnight.

noble

my perspiring plastic cup began completely full
now it is empty besides ice and probably a small amount of saliva
"any sugar or cream in that for yah honey?"
"no. black."
"yah sure?"
"YES."
what an annoyance
maybe ill try going up for a refill
i hear that theyre only fifty cents
kinda cheap
not cheap enough for the workers who pick the coffee beans to get one
but yanno
sliding my chair back i say that ill be right back
what. an. interesting. dialogue.
"do you have a membership card?"
"i haven't gotten one in the last half an hour. so, still no."
"cream?"
"god. no."
walking back to my chair i notice a solider sitting and sipping something
i know he's a solider because the only gear it seems he's missing is a rifle
are all his other clothes dirty or something?
whatever.
my perspiring plastic cup is leaving my hands and the table wet
i shouldnt have read my friends blog
reading ruins my writing
goddamnit
my coffee tastes like a cup of cigarette ash and water
i kind of like it
my knees are starting to feel good
whenever i smoke, drink, or pretty much do anything involving chemical alteration my knees start to feel terrific. like the way your arm feels after its fallen asleep. or if youre stoned. can everyone identify the feeling now? good.
ill probably have arthritis when im older.
least of my problems right now.

we travel by night
avoiding the sun and the heat it brings with it
we never did get to say farewell
the past few days seem like a dream
but not because it was surreal

progressive

i still like to call myself a beer snob even though ive only been drinking shitty beer lately. bud light today. PBR yesterday. Milwaukee's best the day before that. i still like the high end stuff, but this isnt about feelings of taste or even tastefulness. no, its too late to worry about that when we're drinking at noon. this isnt about killing the pain or something cliche like that. what it is about im not certain. i had my first drink before i brushed my teeth today. i went to bed when the sun and the birds were beginning to greet the day. i dont care about my health, i just hope i dont gain much weight.
do you wanna hear a funny idea? if not just stop reading. well i had an idea for a drinking game (ive never understood why you need to incorporate games into drinking, isnt it good enough?) that involves monopoly. you pretty much just play monopoly and every time you have to pay taxes you take a shot of vodka. or when you pay someone else you just take a drink of your beer. well, it seemed funny when i thought of it.

i am in my apartment. i am by myself. the microwave clock will not stop blinking 0:01 at me. lets forget this happened. i know i will.

primitive. broken. redeemed.

we left our clothes behind because we realized that those threads of society are no longer what defines us, so we trudged on into the darkness naked but more importantly together. along the way there were signs of past residents and of the world such as discarded pop cans, beer bottles, and cigarette butts. they were no longer here though. they left their mark and left, themselves. whereas we intended to leave ourselves. the night was cold on the bare skin, especially my right hand that gripped the revolver. my left however was scorching within the heat of your own. we stood at the opening not saying anything, not needing to. the look in your eyes said enough as it was all i saw reflected in the moonlight. and then, it began to rain.

360º

i cut my nails too short
and thought of you

i was burning up in my car
and thought of you grandma

i was caught damned and dancing
and thought of my sister

i took care of the ones closest
and thought of you mother

i drank on a weeknight
and thought of bukowski

i made mistakes
i have fucked my life up
i thought none of it
and i thought of you father
i thought of you

there is one magnet on my fiidge

faked suicides
well written notes
he wished to the worlds microscope
no longer longer wanting to identify by what he had
what he did or wore on his body
just who he was
the only thing stopping him from departing
was the loved ones he'd leave behind
what's life if you can't share it?
or throw it away together.

∞

i'm sitting on my bunk bed listening to that band you told me to check out
i like them but probably not as much as you do
a piece of art hangs near my bed
but its not your creation, but another's
i didn't go into work this morning
again
i am going to show up there
in a little bit
its just hard for me to care about the future
i understand what will happen
what will happen if i drop out of school
what will happen if i lose my job
what will happen if i get kicked out of my apartment
i understand
i just don't care
when i think of facing the music
a bathtub and a razor blade come to mind
death doesn't scare me the lest bit
pain does
i also have some things i want to do
before i go

May 18th

my body aches
outside temperatures are reflecting inner ones
this sun will soon come and warm our lives
i hope
this son will soon come and warm your life
i may
every joint reflects this ludicrous display of summer
and i am quite tired

darkness

one day god created light
and then he created darkness
after some time had passed
by happenstance the light met the darkness
at first they saw much in common was shared by them
despite their many differences
they realized they were nothing with out each other
for darkness is merely the lack of light
and light will always cast shadows
the light will always fill in the cracks
while the darkness takes shape to it's shade

isolation

i find myself on another late night drive
because ive found my mind doesn't crack until five
when my hopes begin to dive
and then the fruits of my mind begin to thrive
such an awful curse like the honey and the hive
for if i begin to dwell
my heart begins to swell
of course the fires cannot be quelled
whilst being trapped inside this hell
and no i have not been well
unlike i told you everything has been just fine around here.
so i drive and let my thoughts run loose
with darkness closing in on me like the noose
my only escape is the appearance of this sliver of moon
how it makes me wonder which of these roads leads to you
and how I'd do anything for you and your loved ones too
you see the problem with a fruitful mind
is that it's only ripe at a certain time
the rest it's un-bearing or its gone rotten and dead
but now as i think of my single sized bed
thoughts of rationality luckily i am being fed
i know you're asleep in your's that's fit for a king
not a worry right now, so don't worry in the morn
you can always trust i won't do any regrettable thing
i must be rid of the things and ideas i have worn

This past year

i have changed over this past year.
i have changed shape and i have changed form.
i have learned to love someone more than myself.
i have learned that i cannot stand separation.
in the beginning it was tough.
in the beginning it was difficult spending that much time with one person.
now it seems foolish to have thought that.
now it seems i have taken leaps and bounds.
my ears are much larger than before.
my ears are still always open but now know how to filter.
my world of physical and emotional are no longer separate.
my world is you.

My thinking spot

That place I showed you Wednesday, well I'm sitting here today
With something in either hand to make the pain go away
An aluminum can of mixed soft drinks
And a cigarette I'm convinced helps me think
I look at the green water and am ready to die
It's reflecting the trees and no longer the sky
Watching it pass, I feel for the dregs trapped on the side
While insects buzz around my head with thoughts of you and collide

nothing can reassure me as greatly and fully as your embrace.
every day, i need less and less of worldly things and agendas.
their medicine is years behind what your smile does for me.
i understand why some people need religion now.
because i would give my life for you.

j.w.

the feelings have never stopped, at times they simply change form.
but they never ceased.
you are a gem.
i count myself lucky everyday for having met you.

vyvanse

amphetamines do not sharpen the mind at all
this is a common misconception
no they merely dull it
speeding it up
so that you may be more productive
benefiting the whole

damn the whole
compliance will not come easily
i will speak willfully until my throat is left cracked and dry
until i choke on my own blood
tasting the iron within it
and i will spit in the face of society

bodily obsession

individual blades of grass run through my fingers
warmth comes from all sides

we are seemingly alone
we are surrounded by constant reminders of humanity

the earth is all we will ever need
we are just animals

suppressing my savage thoughts is what is expected
but it comes less and less natural everyday

my thoughts are no longer dangerous towards myself
but everyone else should be worried

my paradigm is shifting once more

my mind has always been longing and aching for something else
whether it is a body that used to be able to keep up with the sun
or a mind that does not stop
my hard times are self distorted
i do not wish i was this way
no more is this sorrow paying off the way it had used to
art and responsibility do not go hand in hand
unless they are quarreling with one another
i hope i can find a way to make this work
until then i do not know who i am

sleepless night. sleepless morning.

early to bed and early to rise
will surely bring a boy to his mental demise
but never to sleep so never to wake
must create a mad man with hands that shake
i drove the town, it did not rest
though unlike i, she played her cards to her chest
i wept when told tales of monstrous disease
and begged it wasn't true while down on me knees
soon after the sob and after the drive
the streets filled with faces like bees to the hive
never to know of the crimes and the lies
never truly seeing with their un open eyes
yes none take note of such dreadful things
so I'll wait and see what this ignorance brings
I'll still visit my mistress in the early morn
always taking her beauty always taking her scorn
now the sun shines and it lulls you away
with most still in be un aware of the day

sun on my face
gun in my mouth
what a beautiful day to leave
the light travels through unbound branches
hitting your pale skin
making you luminescent
my angel to carry me over
today
to die

to death. onward.

infinity is my favorite sign

stretching onwards into itself
you can't quite see where it began
nor where it will end
all you know is
you are nowhere near either
at first the idea seems odd to you
everything in life has always ended
definitively
lives. marriages. love. warmth.
this constant state seems intangible
until it has been demonstrated to you
by a beautiful paradigm shift

route 102

the dirt slowly covered up the hole
just as it covered up his problems
making them both disappear
the body was so small
so was the grave
she probably had no idea why this was happening when she died
her final moments filled with confusion
the same emotions that her family will be filled with
certainly for eternity
normally one should always dig the grave first
and then produce the corpse
but in times of accidents
you are limited to the circumstances at hand

spring around the roses

we have banished winter from our presence like a cheap whore
she has still left her mark on us
but we will destroy all evidence of her existence
my hair has grown since last season
the wind blows through it freely
this smoke exits my lungs so beautifully
the way that
this season exits our community so beautifully

http://reillythestoryteller.blogspot.com/

i moved chapters one and two to this site and will be continuing that story there. I'm keeping this blog for forthcoming poetry.

these things to come are merely dreams.

bank teller

the automatic door was hard to open without using the button. it did not want to budge without being asked to do so. eventually it gave up it's fight and complied with mike's attempt to enter the bank. a sign asking patrons to remove hoods, hats, and sunglasses hangs on the cantankerous door. perhaps they think that if a bank robber is willing to follow these things they might give up hope on nicking the money from the place. how could any cunning bank robber foresee such a well written sign that would inhibit their robbing of the bank. but mike isn't such a criminal. these things do not concern him. carefully filling out the deposit slip at the counter with better penmanship than normally but still somewhat atrociously, the odd bills bulging in his pocket linger on his mind. some tens. some fives. a lot of ones. approaching the teller, she smiles hard at mike like every other time before. she knows him by name but he doesn't have a clue as to what her's may be. mike just knows her as the tall skinny gal with the short dark hair and no ring on her finger. she looks like a Bethany he thinks to himself. he approaches Bethany with the deposit slip and cash in hand. they had never really talked besides the random bullshit everyone does with people they don't know what to say to. "oh i guess the Superbowl was yesterday. whatever." she counts the bills carefully making sure that the amount on the slip is the correct amount in hand while gathering this look on her face that makes it seem as if she would like to ask mike a question. he looks at her with utmost confidence and simply says, "hm?"
looking like a child caught with her hand in the candy jar she meekly replies, "oh i was curious about all the cash you were depositing. you're not a male stripper are you?" ending her sentence with one of awkward smiles. the kind you get when you know what you're saying is stupid right as you are saying it.
chuckling to himself, "haha no not at all. im just a drug dealer."
thinking he is just pulling her leg she laughs and says something along the lines about how she is an illegal arms dealer.
"well i seriously doubt that since i know all of the ones in town. but i understand the joke. but i assure you, if it is frowned upon by the government i can sell it to you."
there is that hand in the candy jar look again.
"being a bank teller must be so boring?"
"so mundane that every time a black man walks in you start to hope that he is toting a gun underneath his coat."
"well i doubt anyone will ever try and rob this place, but if anyone ever plans on doing so ill give you a heads up if you'd like. i would hate to see your name (whatever it may be) in the papers"
"thanks that would be lovely. oh here is your receipt by the way, have a good day riley."
"thanks, you too.."
mike thinks to himself while walking out the barely movable doors, what the hell? apparently she doesn't know my name.
oh well. i don't know Bethany's name either.

iris

different eyes see this world
differently
to some it's beautiful
to others it's a hellish nightmare
my eyes are always dark brown
seeing evil hiding in the shadows
never missing those who do evil things
lying. killing. raping.
losing hope for humanity in its entirety is a sad thing

you change my paradigm
you and your changing eyes
green to grey
grey to blue
blue to green

a thing layer of beauty coats my eyes
softening this world

morning

four a.m.

i have been alone with my thoughts and Jack Kerouac
for sometime now

i want to sleep, i really should rest
i will regret this in the morning
fuck, it is the morning

the snow is deep
the thoughts are deeper
consuming the rest of my mind
with interest. with concern. with pretty words.

locks and alarms
man walking in the middle of nowhere
truck in the ditch
not a single cop
numerous snow plows

these thoughts come in no particular order
backtracking to fake elegance is a hell of a thing
one can feel as if cheating his original thoughts
his original self
but i am who i am right now
and this isn't really an end

but thanks to these cups of coffee with unseen bottoms
i cannot sleep
but chemical imbalance cannot be blamed for it all
the thoughts plague my mind without end
the way the coffee poured early without end
so i walk
walk in the cold to my truck

at this hour the pale brilliance of the moon contrasts the navy blue sky along with the cantaloupe coloured clouds
i drive and warm
driving alone on the deserted streets
like the last salmon swimming up stream
after driving and warming for some time
the snowy coating on LouEllen is reduced to droplets
but her heart remains intact if not somewhat thawed

i must truly thank those before me
for helping to appreciate these few simple things
the camels and Arizona for instance
i drive slowly
i am not in a hurry to arrive anywhere
the boundaries are hard to recognize beneath the depths of snow
but i can see where i should not be
so i know where i should
pain isn't pleasure. pleasure isn't pain.

there is no music
silence like this should not be pissed away
i still think to myself
and then think to myself why i don't just talk to myself
words must be constructed carefully before bound to permanence
when you don't take time to sleep
the days run together in odd ways
yesterday seems like today
last week seems like last month
but right now. it is always right now.

I Was Here

the path leads me deeper into the trees
running alongside the recently thawed river
i tromp down to the majestic beast's edge
not caring of the state of my shoes
caring less about my safety
solid sheets of ice cling to tress telling me how high the water was the day before last
the river was here before me
here before anyone built a path to admire it from
as was the rest of nature
that is how it was, and it will continue to be after i and the lot of us cease to exist
i continue on my journey
this is not a journey of distance but of contentment and fulfillment.
a stones throw away, regardless of my impromptu appearance, a small woodpecker searches for a meal
while admiring his determination, a determination that he has had to know his entire life lest he die, a human like noise startles me
for noises like that and perfectly straight lines do not belong in nature
but after some inspection im lead to believe that it was merely the ice melting and joining the rest of the ice and water and dirt and such that had left before it.
coming to a bridge, i stop.
i stop because i am not ready to cross over this bridge or into what lies past it
a family of ducks sitting in the river must be cold as i watch them let the current take them away
i left my mark on that bridge that particularly sunny February day, and i am certain it will not be there i a month's time nor was anyone witnessing me carve into the old weathered wood with a pocket knife.
but i know.
and i remember.
I Was Here.

RLJ

i have mapped you with utmost diligence
more thorough than the unseen submarines
that have mapped the ocean's floor
with every part of you i discover
another ounce of love i have for you
that i didn't know existed
finding you
has helped me
find myself

contentment

i am consumed by shadow
the dark shades reign down upon me
as if crows were encompassing me
i accept it freely. willingly. lovingly.

big trouble in little china

Michael walked along the sidewalk with the other people who he shared it with. everyone trying their best to be respectful and un acknowledging of the other strangers. Michael didn't have far to walk, just a couple blocks to his girlfriend's favorite Chinese place. he didn't drive very much, no one did in this neighborhood. this is all he ever grew up knowing, just getting by. he had come from a lower middle class family that had split up when he was much too young to understand why. ever since then he had never really invested all that much into relationships. he had friends, but honestly who doesn't? the entire walk to the oriental establishment Michael's mind was just dwelling on every issue at once. bills to pay, his job he hated, his old car that soon would be no longer one with the living, Et cetera, Et cetera. after worrying about all of his worldly things he started thinking of his beautiful girlfriend. Michael was never happy for long with anything really. or anyone. you see, our friend Michael here has a problem with viewing people as their feelings and problems and personality instead of just as their positive marketable qualities. he started thinking of such and such from work, "i could probably seduce her pretty easy, she's not too bright." and the man walking down the street we know as Michael kept thinking of different marks he could trick into temporarily loving him. crossing the last street before rising dragon, michael slips out of auto pilot and tries to remember what his gal had even wanted in the first place. "was it kung pow chicken? yes, that's it.. oh and no bamboo shoots or msg of cour..."
Michael didn't even hear the bus's horn blare at him like a thousand obscenities yelling at some fool. Michael's problem was he wasn't living his life. he was just coasting the entire time. never happy. never trying. there is no hope for Michael. you cannot raise the dead. the church may say otherwise in some cases but that is debatable and irrelevant.
luckily, the living however can receive second chances.

post cruel

when does silence become awkward
and when is it just golden
head sideways against the window
no seat belt
slipping into sleep
but i must stay alert
eyes fixed upon the road
not upon you

alone

i cant help but think you're writing about me
yeah i know it's selfish. probably false.
but it makes me feel loved
and it makes me feel special

one day i will wake up
and this will all have been a dream
i will look in your eyes
there will be no recognition

ginger

it begins with a question, "do you listen to radiohead?" she had the body of a heroine addict and the eyes of an angel. oh and i could never forget that violent red hair that fell on her shoulders like cheap unmeasured drapes that would hang in some dark apartment. i answered back, "sure." as i later learned she turned on the cd in rainbows, a cd that for the rest of my life will remind me of this poor girl. both of us are in her room which she previously tells me used to be a large closet. i don't doubt it one bit. it barely fits her bed which we are sitting on, then soon laying on. or rather im laying on, and she is laying on me. i can sense her desperation for escape as we frantically kiss and grab at each other, knowing the entire time her parents are somewhere else in the house. we are not kissing passionately, but desperately. the way a homeless man may eat a meal. soon the music stops and so do we. and also just as soon im walking to my truck by myself feeling eyes burn mercilessly into me the entire distance. How Come I End Up Where I Started?

i just am

i have not been honing the blade
my thoughts are dulled
sleep comes with much struggle
like how one may turn about
if perhaps
being strangled by someone
someone they thought loved them
yeah
that's how it feels

in the past forty eight hours
i have gotten one
one hour of sleep
i don't feel pain
i do not feel joy
i certainly do not feel you beside me
this
this indifference
please make it go away

both stunt double's and writer's mothers cringe when thinking of their children

they found the body around three in the afternoon. no one noticed the same shower on for near twelve hours. in a dorm room bathroom weirder things happen. it was actually the smell and the lack of responding to the taunting that tipped people off. once the shower curtain was pulled back there was no pool of blood, just a pale lifeless human being that would never laugh, smile, talk, fuck. ever again. when the ambulances came there were no sirens. no need to rush to a corpse. the naked body was all ready for the morgue. after a while all the commotion finally died down, pun completely intended. a long thirty minute silence amongst the room mates was only broken by barely audible exclamations of "Jesus" and nearly audible heads shaking. finally one of them sat down on the couch like his legs could not take any more stress while the other started rummaging through the refrigerator. while going through the fridge he found a newly opened container of ice cream. he looked hard at that container. finally, "did you buy this ice cream, or was this his?" the young man sitting on the couch dealing with more than he should have to answered back, "it's not mine, he went out and bought it late last night while you were asleep. i guess that must have been his last meal." the awkward silence resumed it's place in the room for about another five or ten minutes. finally the veil of silence was pierced once more, "do you think it'd be wrong to eat it? i mean would it be considered stealing from the dead?" they both looked at each other with the image of those lifeless eyes in both our their minds. "well...maybe he bought it, ate as much as he wanted and knew that we would finish the rest after... you know... after this happened." the blank faces were turning to confused looks now. "i don't know... maybe we should just throw it out."
"don't be ridiculous. does it have his name on it?"
"no."
"well then it's fair game then."

i'd love to hear your voice

every day
the sorrow builds from that day prior
i have always told my friends that i am not afraid
of death
but of pain
however now the long for steel seems not pain
but relief
this relation of skin to the blade
of the blade to the skin
it seems my life's alibi
i am not OK
maybe that's it

glares and snares

the boy walked into the drugstore like he had so many times before but today was much different from the rest. most of his prior trips had been for some cigarettes, a drink, etc. you get the idea. the boy, not a man, has a name but that is not what is important. what is important is that this nameless, faceless kid finally feels purpose. he has confidence. he knows exactly what he is doing with his life. he is happy. he walks around the store with a certain rhythm in his step that cannot be matched. everyone is reassured and comforted by his new found confidence, smiling and making small talk. the boy purchases a bottle of coca cola. opening it, he does so with so much attention that a mother may give a child. every drink taken is enjoyed more than the last. all this is done while talking to the man he somewhat knows behind the counter. finally, the worker asks the boy, "so whats up with this good mood that your in? your practically lighting up the store with that glow." and the boy takes another satisfying drink from his bottle of coca cola, he looks the man in the eyes. not searching for an answer at all, just looking at him the way a teacher may look at a student who should know the obvious answer. seeing that the man would not be figuring it out any time soon the boy began the explanation, "have you ever ran cross country?" "well, i did a lil bit in high school but shoot, that was ages ago."
"that's fine. well you see, i used to run cross country. one race is five kilometers, a little bit more than three miles."
"yeah, i know. what does that have to do with this?"
"well, if you'll kindly let me finish ill get to that. anyway, whether you were the best runner on the team or the one of the worst like myself you always got the same feeling at the end of of the race. for about three miles you have been running your ass off. the only thing that has been going through your head is how much you loathe being in cross country. people are passing you, others on the sidelines are yelling at you, your just beat. but after all of that pain. and after all of that suffering. and after all of that humiliation. you reach the last stretch of the race. you can see the end, its right there and you are almost done. while running the last stretch of the race, you are the happiest you have ever been. you, are almost done."
"so are you saying you just ran a race?"
the boy answers this with the smallest trace of a smirk. the way you smile when your getting away with something, the way you smile when you know something that no one else knows, the way you smile when you just don't give a shit.
"ha no not at all, that was a metaphor. i am almost done."
as he is finishing his well delivered reply, he pulled out the 20 gauge shotgun from behind his coat that he spent all last night sawing down the barrel and sawing off the stock for easy concealment. not in that order of course, one does not want to wear down his hacksaw on the barrel before he gets to the stock. in one swift movement of pulling out the firearm and cocking the first barrel he points it directly at the clerks chest from near point blank range. the other customer in sight would have been deeply mentally scarred for perhaps the rest of his life if the next barrel had not been used on him. two shells ejected, two more go in. right now, the reverberating sound of both shots is not what the boy is thinking about. nor is he wondering what the response time of the police is. or if he will be able to take any more life, before taking his own. nor is he thinking of the left coat pocket full of shells. no, all he is thinking of is the right coat pocket which contains just one shell. he starts walking by the aisles as if he were trying to find a movie to rent. just very distanced attachment. he finds another boy, perhaps a similar age. a look on his face that most people will never see another human being make. saying things that most will never hear another human being say. and with the passing of a second and a slight kick from the sawed off he is no longer one with the living. the boy offs a few more of the druggists and customers but is soon out of ammunition. that is beside the one shell in his right pocket. he calmly motions over to a chair with his weapon, letting a man who unlike the boy will still be alive in ten minutes, know exactly what he is supposed to do. the man sits down and he is very shocked, he is very afraid, and he is very confused. the boy ejects the spent shells from the weapon and loads the single shell into the left barrel and cocks the gun. the warm barrel resting underneath his own chin, he looks this stranger directly in the eyes. he has no intention of speaking. he already had his last words. before he pulls the trigger, the man meets this boy's gaze. and while holding back an ocean of emotion, he swallows and says, "truly, i am the unlucky one." the boy pulls the trigger the second the last syllable leaves the man's mouth. you can imagine what a twenty gauge shell of buck shot will do to a man's skull at point blank range. the police arrived shortly after all of this takes place. the man still sitting where he was ten minutes earlier. not saying anything. no look on his face. after the paramedics made sure that he was all right and sent him off, his wife embraced him saying how lucky he was. he didn't say anything back, not wanting to contradict her. she takes a half step back, "are you going to be OK?" he stops for a second to think and finally looks her in the eyes and says, "i'm going to be fine. i'm almost done."

goodnight

knees shaking
the tears are not there
stomach aching
i love you more than myself
dry mouth
making each word follow the last
we cannot be
therefore, i am not

well. this sucks.

the cold weather would be bearable with a warm heart
but that's not the case
not anymore
i could always burn my money
but most of it has gone to my "education"
bitter end?
no. just a long walk in the cold

I'm still holding out for something nice to happen

ten digits

completely filled with sun flowers
the field seems almost endless
the way they droop down
like a bunch of children looking around for their mothers shoes
because that is how they identify them
it makes me think of you
and how i would recognize your feet
if it had a sunflower on it

eve

he got to the party and right away it began
he started drinking like bukowski but without the experience
so it was a good time
with some sickness in the cracks of it all
but after a blur of drinking, dancing, and small talk
he had begun to slow down.
and finally woke up to vomit speckled shoes and a slight headache
with a vague memory of hearing everyone count down to the new year
while kneeling at the toilet
but there are no regrets
just limits learned

day one

today is the first day
the first day of the new year
the first day of this decade
first things first
throw out my family Xmas tree
just like we have discarded the past year so whimsically
it doesn't mean a thing anymore
it is just trash on the side of the road
soon to be thrown into the wood chipper

this new year
i have no hopes
this new year
i have no resolutions
this new year
i have not changed

this is all just a facade