Haiku Back & Forth Activities With LoVers

they say cleanliness is next to godliness

so i guess that makes you satan

while im busy making love to her

you sit at home masterbatin'

my mind is a vapid vacuum - sucking helocentricities utilized by the outterspace clerks.

apples

from washington state

the apple in your eye is

lost?

gaucomole

so squishy are you

gaucomole is not 

best food in town

macadam

the pioneers paved

explored escape day dreams

through tunneled vision

wandering:

i stand corrected !

a walkabout was perfect - 

but insufficient

the whore stands within

neon lit jail filled bar stools

waiting for a drink

padded:

your damn padded bra

is giving me an ugly rash

on nether region

belt:

quick ! tie up a knot

through streaming typewriter ink

dont spill a drop 

cataclysm:

picasso caused a 

cataclysm when he left

paris for my home

oyster:

rotted sea shell sits

at the bottom of nirvana

yet pearls hide within 

charcoal:

i drew her body

one rainy night in new york

she made my dick hard

-----

camel cigarette

1 of 2 that i can trust

oh how i love both

-----

bedsheets:

twisted underneath

the seamstress seemingly lost

the art of tugging

---

porch:

hummingbirds smoking

with a cowboy and camel

a kiss on the porch

---

gasoline:

it does cost too much 

to get to arizona

but we will try it

----

gasoline:

worth more than our air

we stood in lines on our days

in hopes for new ways

-----

staccato 

----

detached from silence

once felt by Beethoven's ear

his notes too cut out

-------

bobby:

his staccato drums

sounded like a gangsters gun

oh the golden age !

--

earth:

earth you piss me off !

i will not paint you anymore

perhaps mars can help

earth:

apple of my eye

yr core meets my teeth leaving

me biting for more

--- -

HerbalMedicine

a mental projection of the digital self - residual self image

what is real?

"we must assume behind this force the existence of a conscious and intelligent mind. this mind is the matrix of all matter"

when the system destablizises, 

you said you'd build me

an adobe home yet the

foundation was cracked

and so instead you.....

"oieitryagain"

dear lover,

i want to write you a poem that speaks of the seas sparking below, after gods  hand of glory touched it. and i want to write about the roses in full bloom and the daffodils and the lilies yr favorite too. but i can't stop thinking of the harijuku dolls and internet gaming and how much of a buddhist i could be if only i was stronger willed, if only i could concentrate more, if only i actually wanted that.

and i want to write you a poem that can last the tale of time and make you see how much i really love you and we'd fly away but i can't even think of two words that rhyme at the moment! 

---

electrical signals, running through my brain

with the first words spoken by the tribes of i, and me, and we

where are the candles lit we view?

you are a cake made of baby stuff and a baby made of lady stuff - bobby

mashup me & bobby

mustache feathers

i've become the voyeur

of your gentle hands

have we ever looked 

more ridiculous 

or ideal?

sip & scratch

dip & scumble 

nip & stroke

tonight you made me shave my face

your bird is tattooed 

mine is inside

-

the lonesome trollop

with a fast paced dash across a sea salt patch

two feet tip toed through the sticky batter

all that could be said for the lonesome trollop was

stated through the oil spill of pantone 292 -

a trail unraveled by the gumshoes lack of matter-----++===+=

the bible belt of the north holds many a humming juice

jesus cookie had a blood bath

the first day i met you i said, gimme your monkey toes

so i too may know how to lift things.

back in december when you first spread yr toes apart i said,

god damnit, theres like 3 inches in between each one

this has to be the worst piece of writing ive ever dictated to you.

its only cause i don't have a secretary.

and the dots swim round&round.

"Some Silly Old Poems"

maybe these are on here, maybe they arent. but they are saved on my computer so here we go

An introduction to my unfinished experiments I have…

FAT CATS ARE PARASITES ON A PRODUCTIVE SOCIETY

good evening ladies && gentlemen - tonight we have a grueling match for you. to the left, weighing in at 300 LBS, with an impressive record of 108-3 - THE MACHINE STANDS GLORIOUSLY. && to the right, weighing in at 112 LBS - meek and filled with a belly full of fire tonight, stands THE HUMAN SPIRIT! this looks like an intense fight tonight.

WHO WILL WIN THIS BATTLE ?

WHO WILL WALK AWAY WITH DEAFENING SILENCE?

WHO WILL CONTROL WHAT IS ON STAKES TONIGHT -

THE VERY COLLAPSE OF TIME AND SPACE ITSELF.

((as the fighters make their way to the center of the ring))

DING DING.

———

bilanz selbstmord

it is true, you know.

my experiments have come about in a moment of desperation, for my life has become an assessment - a balance sheet so to speak...this too shall pass.

a balance sheet - so to speak - weighing in the most rational (& awakened) state of mind to attempt to conquer my last chance left at what is known as life.

you've made me want to be a saint.

you've made me want to be a savior.

you've made me want to fuck a saint, or perhaps, my very own savior.

does this make sense? are you my angel??

have you conquered the misconceptions? will you let me borrow yr eyes?

perhaps just yr ears.

prove this wrong.

my theories, that is.

i have wanted & yearned for my very own bukowski to play savior, & now; i have found this bellyed out rotted soul & i am afraid my mind is not great enough to conquer it - has his conquered minde?

am i admitting defeat?

did i choose this path?

where are my goals?

where are my eyes?

my ears are still here.

my mind is mashed up - a composite of every1 i have ever met . . . will it heal? are there secret compartments? can i decipher the others ideas from my own? if i can do this than my writings will be complete...

i must narrate for them to persuade the savior role.

or perhaps, just go back to my balance sheet . . .

call me roger chillingworth, if you must. (this would need to be changed a lot)

I WANT TO SINK IN YOUR BONES

WHERE DID YOU GO

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE 

TO THE ONE WHO SHOWED ME LOVE

WAS IT ALL FRAUD

YOU AREN'T HAPPY?

YOU DON'T KNOW?

YOU've NEVER HAVE BEEN HAPPY?

HELP ME -

IM AT A LOSS WITH WORDS 

YET

I CANT RUIN THOSE WHO DON'T LOVE ME

or do.

WAS IT ALL JUST A GAME

EX#1://PROCESSING FORGOTTEN THINGS & RARITIES

NOTES

SECTION I. NATURE VERSUS NURTURE (PT://1)

gone gone gone and i am all alone again left wrapped up in my books

and i am the weeping willow in this maddening wind & i am your favorite

sad song stuck on repeat & i have cracked spider legs which are trying to

build, just one last time, the most eloquent of all webs but now ---

the shark has come and bitten away at my very own heart ! for the

sake of his thirst - can i blame him ? or is this in 

our nature ?

SECTION I. NATURE VERSUS NURTURE (PT://2)

i sit & wonder (is this all rotting my brain) . . .

where did the mountains go ? and the blue moon? and the ocean too ? i cant even get there without being hassled by the cops anymore & i just want to gaze at the ocean

yet i am left with the birds chirping at my windows while death bites at my ankles, slowly but surely, yet i cannot stop thinking why are we doing this to ourselves ? what did our grandfathers expect? where has chief joseph hidden ? where are the gods who created this ghost dance ? why did america win anyway? seperation i suppose but why so soon?

dear gravity and chance :

you have your rules. you exterminate all irrations. you see things clearly.

you see the larger scheme. teach me your ways.

jealousy will not be my education of choice anymore.

do as you will - all of you - i am not judging, i am no longer worrying. it's only human nature anyway . . . silly me for forgetting these thoughts ! so rarely do i see with such clarity. for i became the woman - just like most women - who cannot forget, who cannot stop comparing. cohen said CONNECT NOTHING. i am doing so. here is a brief reminder to myself:

i am in the right place.

everything is accordingly.

let the particles in the air float my to where my next adventure will be. if you are there, any of you, let it be natural. NO FORCE-FEEDING. where is god through all of this though ? he's turned his back on me again.

i reach out he turns further...this must be the cycle perhaps.

it doesn't matter anyway.

so, to the laws of gravity and chance, help me float freely...take me the Way....and so that will bethat. the end !

< 0 UTD8ED:// PARANOIA OFTEN MEANS ACCURACY.

Note: Perhaps things become outdated when truisms are set into place & falsities are let out. OLD && OUTDATED; A NICE REMINDER OF THE FALSITIES IN LIFE :

EX#2://WRAPPING ONESELF UP IN COMMODITIES

continually, i chain smoke my marlboro reds covering myself in dust & ashes while i wrap myself up in hilighted note filled battered books & unravel my mind...& i am stargazing, fiending for my better days - those days before you drifted away - or perhaps; those days where your good parts stayed. & i don't know whether to be glad or sad, you do it in the most gentlest of ways...and this very emotion is what wears my tired soul down. (tom set's in oh he's a singing & oh he's a swaying: i don't think you'll come around here no more...)

god fucking damn it ! its yr blonde hair that i want to be wrapped up in ! not the books, not the lies && the pills that have brought our portions down so much. the dinosaurs are here and owls are there but i just want your hair everywhere ? i'm trying the best i can saving up my quarters for rainy days (which seem to appear everyday) yet you never tried to change me so why, why did i change you my little bukowski : i should have known you held the knife all along. my little platinum blonde cotton candy king pink shirt was the last i had ever seen and now yr gone stole the stiches you healed in this heart and it feels like death is biting at my ankles again and my blue blooded nature is slowly fading away from the coldness of tonight causing my eyes to fade to grey. my platinum blonde orange candy breeding king i want to fall asleep in yr hair again but all i can think is how i'm the one you believe made the cancer set in next the pains filled in your belly onto more and more tumors please remember dear, i am not your marla singer. . . but let me tell you that on this very moment in this dark crisp feeling night that i must say, those thick sticky maple syrup dripping sap-filled eyes are still haunting me. be kind - kill it please.

before the edits, this happens...

1.25.2009

mister mister,

here here !

acute schizoid, eh? with the delusions & paranoia too? so you've been certified to boot, oh but proceed (by all means please) to tell everyone i am certifiable. GRADE A let's say ! like i'm some sort of friendly packaged and processed meat, creme de la creme, cream of the crop, floor fifteen on the pike, let's bring her to the psych!

she's mad

you say !

and:

her minds filled with riddles which twist and turn, and her arms well . . . they are filled with the strawberry burns ! her belly aches sir doctor, she hasn't eaten in days...you turn to look at me to indicate, i'm sorry lizzy i don't believe this is just a phase !

Oh...Okay.

i'll say. and:

continue please, you kicked me to the curb you rubbersoul void of soul over dyed sooth seeker non truth believer - but hey, for only $2.08 per gallon -go on, fill yr mind with the lies ! it's true : i lied through and through & if you were clever you would have learned to read the schemes - use the filter on yr newports, just as we do for the scag we put in the spoon . . . to remember just like the first time we shot up to CONNECT NOTHING & FILTER ALL instead of believing all the shit spewed out of my mouth like stew - you think my brains rotted ... ha ha you know, i almost believed you for a second or two that this was the truth, but hey baby you chose the wayward of the words i realized i searched for all the wrong blackbirds & this phase and moment of all my life but these things will subside...oh look...here she goes again...ranting and sing songing away . . .

SO J.K.,what do you expect? jokes on me now ay !

i'll never blame you for my needle streak though you'd prefer this, like a record trying to be played but it scratched and skips from the pin, no no darling dear that will not be me, i have my own choices you see, i chose the love of the blood & the love of the belt tied slightly too tight i chose the balance i left the amphetamines in exchange to be a dope fiend, so please now hop along let me be.

but...

"IF YOU HAD FIVE MINUTES TO LIVE, WHO WOULD YOU CALL...AND WHY ARE YOU WAITING?"

you see it's true you know. at age 23 yr the first boy i ever was in love with . . the first i felt a true emotion for. the rest? all part of the games i play...& remember sex versus the fuck versus the love? we'll i've still never made love not once in my life but i do believe we were quite close the last time . so thank you for that and thank you for this but now its time for the two of us to hop along and let me be dismissed. (though i really truly never wanted the parting of the seas to be this way...hello john cusack top 5 breakups? this will be the icing on the records)

——-

he brought me truth justified:

he served his spoken words in a bowl

filled with a-l-p-h-a-b-e-t shapes

that created sounds through vowels

reminding me of new breathing techniques

and the words in this sea...please see:

they overflowed from a pastey red & white

camp-bells rang in my ears bringing in sounds new of the year

but the rust etched in our arms remained && so

in return (to sender)

betrayal was written & not through the vowels learned

or from the orange candy supr-eyes(d) brown eyes

but instead through the chaos you thought i came to mend

but my season of stitches still cannot comprehend

the life lines youve opened, feeding passion to these veins

and now you have said that i've taught you fear and shown you how to betray

but

to

my

lover

let

me

state

this:

i told you my love occurs in brief moments; it will bring you hope which in turn, forms great disappointments. ill always be married to these books i read & in turn you must play the mistress, you see. you were informed of this from day one so when you feel i'm playing games now realize they already begun.

(you will thank me one day. perhaps?)x

Installation

installation: 

bench with ashtray, two cigs, two packs, one lighter, two books? 

this is the entrance to my installation called ON LOVE . i always meant to write it out because i had the greatest love story of all time to ever tell. yep its true. and where does love hide when the fog comes out?

"Things to Write About"

circa 2008?

how farmville is broadening americas world view

(LOLZ)

old old found on this ghetto computer of mine

TRUE OR FALSE : (THE WAR ON OPIATES IN A SUBURBIA LAND)

ATTN: PLEASE ANSWER ALL QUESTIONS IN A TRUE / FALSE MANOR. DEVELOPING ANSWERS IS GREATLY APPRECIATED.

T/F:

INJECTION IS FAR MORE INTENSE THAN PLUNGING, INSUFFLATION, OR THE SWALLOWING METHOD.

INTRAVENOUS USERS EXPERIENCE DISCRIMINATION DUE TO AN IRRATIONAL FEAR OF NEEDLES.

THE WAR ON DRUGS HAS SUCCEEDED.

THE WAR ON DRUGS HAS FAILED.

THE AA/DISEASE MODEL IS MISLEADING, AS ONE HAS POWER OVER THEMSELVES.

WE SHOULD PUNISH THOSE WHO DO NOT ABIDE BY SOCIETY’S RULES.

CODEPENDENCY IS NOT A REAL MENTAL ILLNESS, INSTEAD IT WAS CREATED BY AA

CHOICE OF SELF DESTRUCTION IS WHAT SEPARATES MAN FROM ALL OTHER SPECIES.

SOME USERS USE NOT TO ESCAPE, BUT BECAUSE THEY SINCERELY ENJOY / FEEL BETTER ON DRUGS 

IF YOU MUST BE A DRUG ADDICT, BE THE BEST DRUG ADDICT YOU CAN BE AND DO NOT LET IT ALTER YOUR LIFE OUTSIDE THE DRUG

ONE HAS THE MOST SUCCESS QUITTING IF THEY ARE LEFT ALONE AND NOT FORCED INTO A PROGRAM FOR THEIR PROBLEM

15. RELATIONSHIPS ARE MISERY UNLESS YOU HAVE THE CONTROL AND POWER.

freeze your blood and then stab it into in two, stab your blood into me & blend. i eat my own blood & get filled up, get filled up; i get filled up on me and end. so turn off the light cause its night on the sun, yr hopelessly hopeless i hope so for you.

a good modest mouse song

i stay with you because you get me fucked up on all the drugs i could ever ask for and i always tell you the truth but once im high i go, darling i was just saying that


how do i make it known its really over
when i keep saying it and nothings believed

things that tear me down

how did we become this?

the break up

it's been a few weeks now.
it's been a bit strange.
i try to change things materialistically.
it doesn't work.
you know, i honestly don't care much.
nobody knows this but im single and i dont really give a fuck.

Yr becoming more like hank & me like Karen & im wondering how it'll all end up anyways

Do I need a sex life?
An emotional affair?
More drugs to blind me from it all?



I think I'll choose number 3

2009

was a good year with better music discovered compared to any other year
and we'd dance and read books like it was going outa style and we'd create create create and yr the sweetest thing i've ever seen


i love it all too much
----
i remember driving home from upstate that first night curled up in the back of the car with my headphones & cd player while everyone else had their mp3s i had my cds & you put as you are on it and i remember thinking of all our future slow dances
slow shows
hands feeling
soberthoughts
and i told you i'd never leave you and looks like we'er in it for the long hall now.
soinlovewithyou
---
back track
to 2008
sitting in my room
listening to twin sister's i want a house
discovering the pin
chatting with boys on aim
not remembering what was said
thinking of james in the back of my head
sometimes dj too
feeling warmth
feeling love
trying to listen to the damn song and watch lost
and read burroughs all at the same time
for once i felt accepted
it was the rush of the blood you could say
i haven't felt that way since then
you could say
i'm chasing something that doesn't exist

----
fast forward to maybe 2010 the national is always on repeat
and me & you are living together now
and you set up the apartment having slow show (or the apartment song?) playing
i think it was slow show
and you did your dumb dance
and you thought with your dick
(you could drive a car through my head in 5 minutes i want to start over from the beginning)
----
fast forward to 2014
listening to wilco
either way, where he says Jeff best:

Maybe you still love me, maybe you don't
either you will or you won't
maybe you just need some time alone
i will try to understand
everything has its plan
either way i'm gonna stay right for you
----
rewind to 20-21
i was a hot piece, i really was
tons of sexuality oozing all over that bitch
let's say i know what boys want by the waitress
(i see them looking, i make them want me, i like to tease them
they want to touch me i never let them)
it was a good time pre deej
and we rewind a few more years to KWS
first in fourth grade when i thought please dont go would be my wedding song
and then to jen, my old best friend who had too big of a mouth which ended it all
we used to drive in her car at 16 to that song and we knew we were entirely too cool
for the rest of that stupid high school with really bad music taste (laugh)
---then we got the YARDDBIRDS

yeah the yardbirds make me think of coke fueld nights at the bar
blowing lines with my brother
fucking dancing it up to old school music
saying fuck the world at 4 am walking to lex's
but before that more and more mounds of coke
it never ended when you had a brother looking out for your habit
---
sometimes my brain goes up and down and swirls around and around
its called being sober

is it bad i debate stealing my fathers parkinsons medicine to do the apomorphine cure?

opiates will be the reason i live til over 72 and most of you drink alcohol & die at 49


giggles

Avoiding starting over
Like clay meeting water in the wrong oven
Or acrylics never blending quite like oils
Like words being written for the corporate dream
Peddling backwards to everyone else is always forwards for me

Bluebird is hiding
Yr face isn't shining
I can't dream of you anymore
Will we be okay?

I got y own column in a newsletter accidentally of course and it makes me think how far I am from all my dreams

the truth is

when it boils down to it
i forgot my bluebird

 i had the strangest dream of a boy in high school & we were in love & it made me wonder if we are in an alt dimension perhaps maybe

i think he always had it for me

anyway
after telling bobby
i knew bobby was always the one for me in this lifetime


"its not something id recommend but it is one way to live, cause whats simple in the moonlight by the morning never is"


anyway my dreams are so silly lately
bombs
apocolypse
babys hungry
mother dead
father starved
poverty
homeless
sad
sad
wake up
scared
wishing i was there
a flick of the wrist isnt exciting enough anymore
give me the crazy world
boooooo

why i love you

you don't mind my baby voice
or baby moods
or helping me get through being sick

and you'll help me by playing doctor
and giving me my medicine
and even using tweezers
and pluckpluckpluck
and

you let me sing in a terrible voice
and tell me im not tone deaf
and you sold yr drums for me

we don't fuck anymore
because we live like plants
and we have realized
the true meaning of it all

take away the sex and see how a relationship is
kind of amazing in all honesty

everyones infatuated with sex
or maybe obsessed
its everyones vice
and i feel a little bad

imagine something
better than sex
better than blood
better than breaths

and thats
why i love you

a lovely lovely day with a lovely lovely man and lets get married maybe and sail the ocean and listen to old songs and sing happy songs too and have no words because love makes me numb sometimes anyway
just like my icepops and other treats too and anyways as you sit scraping each bag to be a careful clever man your such a handsome sexy man and anyway lets call me vain based on the fuck me booties and the cutie leggings too and oversized sweater and you told me that yet again im a trendsetter as NPR said it best casual chic slouchy pants and a basic sweater my styles always in baby im a classic yet a mess im a fuckhead like jesus son and anyway lets get married maybe cause my words are mushy as i just think instead of anything else.

but on the reals
yr words dont go to mush when yr high or in love, yr words get better, you just get better at not sharing em except w/ yr love

iLYSm<3 get="" got="" it="" p="">

i'm an evil little thing because i like you best crying on yr knees
see you never did anything wrong
but love me
and if i cant love me, you cant love me
/hate

the conversation

it started like this:
a quick wit from a little bitch before a slap on the wrist
or maybe it was the crook of the elbow
and it always fails but you never fail
and so i blame you:
see you crumble in front of me
watch you fall on yr face
watch the tears from those lucifer eyes
all to make me have a glimpse of a smile
maybe i'm too evil for my own good
maybe i need a new heart, well the valves aren't working too good
maybe i need some new vains, how about ones that can take the reign

i just want the rush...

maybe i'll drift on until the days come where we are old and we are skin & bones & shit & dying & drool & in nursing homes or maybe i'll drift on until we sit together
on a patio
thinking of all the days
all the things
we could have done
instead of the things
we did do


i have no regrets
just make sure you love me
make sure im always yr princess
make sure im alwys yr junk box
make sure im always yr genius
make sure im always doing experiments
make sure i always have a rotted soul
make sure yr always my lucifer
make sure yr always my saint
tall saint
ill do it all for you

i know we will grow old
it'll always be lovely still like this, right

i think of you tonight frank o'hara
and i'm sorry
i couldn't appreciate new york city the way you did
i couldn't appreciate anything the way you did, really
and tonight i'm sorry because i'm sad and i'm lonely
and i want someone to come along with beautiful soul
to lift me up and make me smile
and i wait for you


why are you always hiding

http://youtu.be/BYIDUvAtiGc

i'm the song in the beggining & im the song at the end
except ill always be a fisher price kinda girl

guilt makes it hard to swalllow & feel the back of my throat
closing in
make it end

i am the one
all quiet eyed staring at the boy i used to know
listening to sad songs thinking of sadder things
and you always say my life was so sad
im yr fav sad song to play on repeat all day
im yr fav torn sweater and yr favorite cliche
im the girl who got reality handed to her too young
i mean with all the things unspoken of
and im the girl who matured too quick
and im the one listening to instrumentals
and im the one who grew up and became cool
and it was a weird adjustment:
crooked teeth known & chicken legs
a pretty young thing probably never missed
or maybe always missed by all the wrong people
like the one who told me i couldn't pay him to read a book
then bought a tupac one...
anyway.
im the saw played in any old song
something kind of clever but you'll forget about once
the shows over
and im the silly gaps in time where you think of someone
only for a brief moment
to say, some brief words that don't matter
i'm the novelty item that you don't let go of
i'm the one who found happiness inside a pilljar
i'm the fisher price clock stuck on a math problem
inside my head

if only i was yr muse & you wrote the novel more
or maybe you let me write
if only we still were fucking
instead of sleeping
and painting
instead of watching
if only things went a little bit different

maybe next time we wake up we'll change it up a bit

fighting codependence-yyyyyyy?

you put it in the tape deck
translation: too sick to see you
me: i'm alright & that's fine anyway
who needs conversation?

maybe all i need is a shot in the arm - wilco

sometimes i start to get clarity again
so i reach for the next shot
because at first the nostalgia is good
then it gets to be too much to handle
i think,
did i do this all wrong?
was i so ahead of myself i was so far behind?
have i changed that much?

i know most people sleep on these things but fuck
i love to get hyper and dance around in my undies
fuck you
i like to also clean,
sing real loud
contemplate our deaths
think even more about death
try to turn myself blue with infinite amounts of dope
because i mean really
who can afford $1500 in a weekend right up the arm besides us baby?
we're greater than life
and even when we are broke we figure it out
your so dreamy
and i love your paints
and i want to swim in them
and you used to like my words
then you stopped encouraging them
to do your own
so they faded and now i just ramble
i'm lost without my hope from you
&....you don't even know it
you never even tried to really read
you never looked in my books at my words
you think its all somewhere on a computer when its scribbled in books
fuck do you even know me?
you make me contemplate everything
fuck, i need another shot
helps

it was 24 hours of hell then 72 hours of bliss & we better cop again or i'm not ready for the miss

this will be deleted when i know hypothetically  youll never see this anyway screwyouiloveyoubye

he stays awake
making sure i breathe
and sometimes he checks my nose
he makes sure i never turn blue

but i'm as clear and blue as far as i can see

things youd never know about

broken blood vessels flying like confetti outta yr arm or having to tie down tighter or cotton shots or what about skin pop shots just because you cant fucking hit anything


its not a fun game yet everyone on the outside sits and admiers it, fuck i know i did


guess i'm the lucky one

bright eyes

any sexual partner gets a bright eyes song for themselves

i wonder how you'd feel about yours

to my brother, hey fuck you man

the heart attack

we weren't exactly children, but not adults either
our parents, they did their best but never really knew how to love enough
just fuck enough
in between, long intervals, of an empty marriage
filled with empty love and voids filled with bad advice
but they always said they tried their hardest
even when i had a heroin addict father who would cook up meth
(sure, let's call him the chef)
and the chef married the one who loves the bud
yet the bud bloomed into a lover of the word
and the chef got clean
and the bud bloomed, furthering her love for the word
of christ
and yet somehow somewhere along the lines
between the pages
between the drugs
between the fucks
they had children
w/ long intervals of years between each
and yet somehow
me and you
we conquered the statistics
and somehow became the best friends
the best of party friends, the best of life friends, and ultimately
you were the adult figure i always wanted and never had

but then came the downfall
the betrayal....
to the one who betrayed who i thought never would:
i really thought i entered the afterlife from then on
was it all a dream?
is bobby my afterlife? did i make it to heaven?
is that why the heroin never stops flowing?
i talk to bobby about it sometime:
maybe we are both here, in the afterlife, together, finally
because earth wasn't quite right and they sent us off
like we were on a ship to a new great land to conquer

but instead of the conquer, we just adjusted
kind of like those wristcutters
we just stayed stagnant
and it was okay
even though we always said evolving was the only way
we'd want to even be alive
without the evolve, we'd rather be dead
so here we are dead
but if this is death, and love means death, then we're doing okay, right?
i guess that's the best part of adjusting, am i right?
i know youll be my second great betrayal, but this time i'm ready.

you see i wasn't ready for my first
no, not my first lover, no my first and only brother
my one and only real betrayal
maybe i can thank you for that one day, that's what you say right?
no crying allowed right?
was never good enough to write, right?
not a good enough painter either
but brother:
you told it like it was
you got me to the point
where i guess i needed to be
and then like that,
you vanished

you and me, we'd never go at those lines again
we'd never drink until we couldn't stand at the local pub
we'd never hide under the post office's covering in the freezing cold
laughing our asses off
calling everyone fuck heads
because it's true, they were fuck heads
and it's true, they never mattered anyways
we had each other and it didn't matter
we could have conquered the world if you didn't fuck shit up
(we could have at least had the lines flow a little longer)
we could have at least laughed a little longer

there's a lot more to this and a lot of no more's
and i guess a lot of unheard thank you's i never delivered
remember,
kicking the shit outta people for me?
always making sure the guys i brought home were worthy of me?
saving me with a nice bag of blow the night i was raped?
saving me time and time again with even more powder?
saving me from all the times i could have been caught
but then, when i was caught
you threw me right under the bus
you pretended all those nights never happened
you acted like i never existed
that's the last night i felt alive.

you wouldn't save me from the sex
you wouldn't save me from the concussions
you wouldn't drag the little shits who did it into a van ever again
you wouldn't talk about your cool little sister
but instead
sit at a bar
crying to strangers about a child that wasn't yours
and crying about your sister who became a junk box
you threw yourself pity parties
like it was all about you
was that all you were there for? are you done playing savior now?

i didn't need any favors, i didnt want any of that
i just want my best friend back

remember when i confided in you?
i told you i had a problem with the pins
and you told me your girlfriend had it worst and i'd get on with it
and you were right, i would have gotten on with it
except you sold me down the river
instead of getting on w/ it
i got stuck in this disease mold
that doesn't even exist
and then i got stuck in this choice mold
which doesn't exist either
see everyone:
it's a little bit of both.
you have the choice until it gets too bad
until you don't get high
until instead of being high you just feel normal
like a plant with water
like a diabetic with insulin
like a drug addict with their junk
it's all the same you see
eventually anyway.


but i digress:

nowadays, you forgot about me
you see,
you flushed me down the toilet
like your old favorite golfish
except i never really was the gold opus baby, now was i?
you forgot about those days of me pretending to be your kid
so you could pick up girls, didnt you?
you forgot about teaching me how to be just like blondie
you forgot teaching me how to write poetry since i was age four
well i can't do it now anyway so fuck you
and fuck you for making sure you were always better

and did you forget about teaching me about art?
colored markers that changed colors:
guns
a rose
some skulls
a piano
a bandana
and hello axl rose, there you are my love, in grade 2
and i had those cool markers and id drawer it all over my books
getting in trouble from an early age
headbanging because all the cool girls knew how
teaching me to grow up like bondie, never giving a fuck
playing these experiments on these dumbasses
because nothing really mattered
a first grader
having existential crises
questioning the bible
wondering about sex
wondering about drugs
wondering about afterlife
all because you put those thoughts in my head

and then, we both moved on...
you:

too many loveless relationships, so you settled
you learned, leaned into a new relationship
you even took my anniversary date
(yours was much later fyi)
june 25 will always be mine
you played it safe:
you chose a nice girl.
a safe one, a sane one
because it's what you needed
(it's what i needed too, really)
but i'll never sell out

me:
i chose the off path
i broke the cardinal rule
i brought someone home from rehab
i taught him how to play with needles
i taught him how to be open to sexual adventures
he was my F. and i was his Beautiful Loser
i found true love, you found how to play it safe

sure, we could have been different
you could have covered for the strawberry burns
you could have told her to shut her mouth
but you led the intervention
when you were my favorite party friend
maybe you were my only real party friend
maybe you thought you were giving me a second life
a second chance, that you never got and always wanted
we didn't talk while i was away
i was too mad
too in love
too many too's to even digress into here

i know we never really got over it
we never really got over anything

and now its five years later
and the heart attacks hit
and your still smoking
and your still eating
lots of those three pound sandwiches
and your not dead
maybe it's just asthma
but i say let the heart attack hit
does that make me so bad?

they say it fades if you let it
is it like your heart?
is their just no more blood to flow?
are you tired of the mundane life?
you still take off every year for your temporary child.
you still know i am who i am, don't you?

most days, you act like i don't exist
do you know the truth?
do you just not care?
i was always your favorite
& now you talk more to my boyfriend than me
& now i cant even have a conversation with you
you were my only real friend
the others? they could go fuck off
they never got it and had half a brain anyway
they were all superficial w/ their stupid looks & their stupid comments
& their stupid fucking way of living

why did you do that to me anyway? after all we were through?
why did you settle? were you afraid of being old and lonely? it doesnt make sense,
death comes so fast
it's creeping up on you
so they say
to scare their sons and daughters
and mom and dad didnt visit
and i wonder whatll happen when my veins collapse
no one knows its happening

i'll be gone soon enough
this isn't a pity party
it's the truth
b. knows
he knows and loves me enough to keep it to himself
i'm forever grateful
forever thankful

when i want to be locked away
he never lets it happen
he's made the promise since day one
and even when the madness comes
he helps it pass
he's my buddha
i'll never be in a mental institution again
and for that, i'm forever thankful

he knows about the collapsed veins
he was there when it happened
he knows this will kill me
and he knows that i'm ready
but is he?

you see.
every time i close my eyes after a shot i hope it's a hot one
then i take it back
because i want just a few more minutes with b.
and i hope if mines hot, his is hot too
so we go into the afterlife together
and if it's never a hot one
i hope we grow old
skin and bones
all shit and decrepited
or maybe well be on the porch lke we always dreamed
looking back
wondering where it all went wrong
or where it all went wrong
you know, that tint of nostalgia that comes along with age
and knowledge
and it all
i hope if yr not taken along with me for this ride we cal life
you never settle like the one who betrayed
and instead,
always find what yr really looking for
because yr the only one ive ever met who really deserves the best

and here i go again
im nodding way too hard for this nonsense,
ill never read this one again
(i can see where the reaper will be, he'll be here soon enough if he hasn't already)

say hello to the angels for me, for i'll be just dirt in a box in a cage underground and you'll be floating away...hopefully anyway

thanks great betrayal
go fuck yourself with you and your heart attack.
go fuck yourself because yeah, i'm mad
yeah i'm sad
but hey
maybe it's just another asthma attack

2.5 hours
maybe ill just sit scraping bags until you get home

----
i'm listening to the song unemployed boyfriend and it reminds me of james and i giggle because he used to say id have his babies

boy i cant even have babies
----
2 hours
and we just spoke,
and i told you of the lonliness
and asked you how you did it
and you said it's lonely man
and i said your telling me ! i count the hours and wait
and wait some more
and then you call and im excited for a glimpse in time
and you said, yeah that's codependency for ya

YAY CODEPENDENCY, YAY.

no wait, the title of YR book will be CODEPENDENCe
because we decided together
and isnt that adorable
this book is going to fly
and im going to probably be bitter its not mine but instead my story written
maybe ill write the other part of it
and i look up the definiton, and i quote wikki


odependency is defined as a psychological condition or a relationship in which a person is controlled or manipulated by another who is affected with a pathological condition (typicallynarcissism or drug addiction); and in broader terms, it refers to the dependence on the needs of, or control of, another.^[1] It also often involves placing a lower priority on one's own needs, while being excessively preoccupied with the needs of others.^[2] Codependency can occur in any type of relationship, including family, work, friendship, and also romantic, peer or community relationships.^[2] Codependency may also be characterized by denial, low self-esteem, excessive compliance, or control patterns.^[2] Narcissists are considered to be natural magnets for the codependent.


and we laugh hard because ts a long ways to the BANK !

without you
i wouldnt get high because im too lazy to even take a shot
i wouldnt ever eat because im too lazy to even make myself food
i wouldnt ever get up because theres just no point
i wouldnt ever fuck because no ones as fun as you
i wouldnt ever give head again because you're the only fun one
and im so in love with you
my little asshole

and im your narcissitic demon
and without me you woulda been too scared to ever take a shot
you would probably still eat because yr a stoner (Gross ! as us dpoefiends like to say)
you wouldnt ever get up because thers no point to this existence
you wouldnt ever fuck because you've got a hand
and if you got a beej itd probably be from hooker you could degrade
and yr so in love with me
your raging little cunt

isnt that a cute little way to look at things

first there was c and i cheated on him
and then there was j and he beat the shit out of me
and then there was v and he treated me nicely, just a little too sane, only tried cocaine once and was a c.o.
and
i could never go that route...

then there was all the j's i had crushes on
and then there was the other j who was a bit crooked but my favorite
not that j or that j or that j or that j...another j.
the one who told me i was bella
and the one who i saw the aurora borealis with
and we went to iceland too
and we would push our children on the swings
and we talked conspiracies
oh but it was all a dream

and then reality hit
like a smack in the face
and there was you
oh bobby

closing my eyes dreaming of you&me
get me out of this nightmare

the
loneliness, it is a strange thing.
i wonder how so many of you just live alone
how do you do it?

i used to prefer to be alone
now i can't stand it
is this what love does or just codependency?

I remember...

"im sleeping with lucifer . i used to get off to satan. they appear on the outside to be the same: the beautiful angel damned to hell & then there's satan, the one whose evil wreaks like oil leaking out of yr old cadilliac."

Remember fucking everyone over from home and running away together?
remember not needing friends?
remember those blue eyes that other girls are always oozing over & i'm just used to?

we never ask ourselves about these things anymore, oh well

and sometimes i smile and you ask me why and im usually remembering the story of us falling in love because bobby, its really one for the books. 
won't you write me a book already? (i keep asking you but maybe it should be the other way around. yr just a better writer and fuck you for that one)


and remember strawberry burns theyll go away soon enough
or well just be buried with collapsed veins, right?

sometimes i still miss you because you were never fully here
and sometimes, no all the time, i know it's for the best, 'cause see...
my life was never supposed to be normal (yes, yr normal for me...)

and that's a compliment. for real.
i truly want to have that. i truly truly do.
i want to dream up adventures of out west

or anywhere, really
& i want to write haikus again and sing silly songs & know how to just feel
i mean really fucking feel and not be scared to feel

i want to be able to sink my teeth into a collarbone and get wet in my crotch
i want to drop to my knees and feel that rush of blood to the head
i want to feel yr hipbones clank into mind just for a fucking laugh

but there's something that's so much better, do you get it now?
he hits all the right spots and never collapses a vein
i'm flying the darkened seas before i even open my eyes - everyday
every fucking day
------
it's like this:
being dopesick every single day just to know another shot will come in due time is still worth it compared to playing w/ falsities and trying to cover up memories of times that were shitty, like when i was dreaming of out west & so sad sad sad & see, i'd rather feel nothing because the fog....the fogs been gone for a long time. i don't think the fog will ever come back.

what is the fog you ask? love is like a fog buk once said...where it burns with the first daylight of reality.

i've had that. and now i think, i really think hell i love this man and if i ever had another one, or two, or ten, i wouldn't even give a fuck who they were because i've felt what i needed to feel in my life.

i've felt so much with you that i feel like crying

how many stick around after you lay in bed not moving for two weeks?
how many stick around after you rat everything out & try to blow it all up just for another go?
how many stick around after you have a psychotic sister, an ocd mother, and a father dying

you just don't and he did and he's a good man and ill love him forever and ever for that.
most woulda never been fully there, you see/
the only thing i will ever miss...
is the witty fucking banter

it's all faded at this point in time now. sometimes i even ask for it...it never comes.
i miss the writing, because you always discouraged me and never thought i was that good.
ive never told a soul that one
maybe yr just the only honest one
as i listen to oh! sweet nothing,
i guess...
without the writing i've been okay for years.
sometimes i sneak it & you tell me
why wouldnt you show me ! i love you writing !
(NO you dont)
"its like me painting in the dark! im going to paint in the dark at 2 am and see what you think of that"
(ILL THINK NOTHING)
you took my dreams and made them into sweet nuthin'

maybe that was me?
----

so if you wonder ever, which you don't, why i don't write, why i don't care, it's because i'm just skin & bones with a broken false tooth & not even crooked & a space in between and anyways i guess what i'm coming t try to say is for the first time i know what it's really like to

be
there
when
the
love
has
faded


and when yr left with your motherfucking best friend
you have NO right to complain you see...
how lucky am i that i even have a friend in this scenario?
we could be like mom & pops & fight on the regular
but we don't fight. you even calm the rage for christ sake.


I think i'd like our wedding song to be oh! sweet nothing
do you get it yet?
it's all about the oh's...the nothingness...the 0's and the o's and the emptiness
that's what life has become
but i shoot up & i get away & life is beautiful again & i write the haikus and poems in my head that no one will ever read because no one ever liked them anyways
this isnt a pity party its just real emotion that will maybe never happen again

i mean should it?
sometimes on here, i write like i'm talking to you. not you, the other you. the one i never cared about anyway. i just liked that you pretended to like my poems to get in my pants / me in yr pants. does that make me so bad?
you coulda been like my crooked boyfriend and i mean he was amazing, he really did motivate me but in a different way. he never read all the writings, he couldn't play the haiku game, he just said that's gerat lizzy ! ur the most beautiful girl lizzy! ill go straight for you lizzy! (except you see, it all makes sense after i've been in real true love that fades and you got nothin' at all. you don't give a fuck anymore, you'll fuck / date / whatever anything. anythings beautiful. anythings however you want it to be when yr just walking through life like skin & bones)


sometimes the love i think faded because i let it
but sometimes it creeps in when we make eye contact and my glasses are off
and sometimes it comes back for those few minutes after i get a shot and i feel everything and see colors again
(i dont notice anything nowadays and its not the dope its the fade of true love and anyways its sad but its reality, and ill probably never move from home because when i do i'm not happy

sometimes i skip through thoughts like i skipped through men
and now five years are coming up and i think who the fuck am i and will this ever change
i guess because we lived together
everyday ill fall in love
and everynight ill fall apart
(sometimes i secretly wish you'd have an affair already)
but most the thyme i dont want that to ever happen
because i do love you
and i love the heroin flowing to my brain
and i love to fade in
just like we faded out

what can i say?
i'm a spoiled little bitch.
i have love & i have a best friend but
all this time
i was happy with writing - i really was
i didn't care if i was good or bad i just was happy with my own thoughts
and now, i count the seconds and moments til yr home
here in my arms laying watching tv rotting our brains eating junk food not dressed up but in pjs maybe even doing do it yourself projects, doing things we always said we'd never do
funny how that happens with age no?
and now, anyways, writings not happy with me and i don't care for it much anyways cause heroin tells me it loves me more than any man or words in my mushy motherfucking brain ever could and maybe that's just a lie i'll always tell myself anyways


ONCE UPON A TIME I WROTE:
"things are balanced here which may or may not be good for me. soon enough i will leave, as i always do, but instead it is not on my terms this time. i'll head off back to my world as will you & i'll miss yr charming cap & suit jacket & yr brightening smile & this day dream we have lined with a semi-clear conscious & mind will soon enough rewind to a time in history where a scabbie point injected straight to my vain was good enough for little ol' me."

isnt that funny considering i took you home with me and we became two little junkbox sitting in a pillbox k-i-s-s-i-n-g----just trying to get by in little long island hehe
hehehahahahahahahahamotherfuckers, you are so stupid if yr still reading this youll never know the truth
i mean when I say shit its unconditional, this shit is motherfucking unconditional

i told you you were my saint but perhaps we've been each others all along . i mean when i say true love this shit is true fucking love . i don't know how we got to this point . maybe 

i mean when i told you this love was unconditional, it was motherfucking unconditional
you get it yet
because i dont
thanks for the rant "BLOG"w hat does a blog even mean
as if i was 12 again...

THE END

so what if i'm a fame whore

watch me turn blue

oh fuck you

you got under my skin when you made that remark just an FYI.


you can go take a walk.

remember teaching me drums?

and you crept up behind me and you already stole my heart but you'd cop a feel and a kiss in a place where none of that was allowed & one day you know he saw and it was okay

she can read she can read she can read shes bad

anyway it's different now, but i still love you. it's funny how love isn't what you think it is and people tell you that over and over when yr young, it's not all you thought

but you can find new ways of living

but you don't and it's cool

she can read she's bad
'
the only song i'll ever know on the drums...

remember singing interpol

and being obsessed with there's no i in threesome? it was yr cute way of telling me you gang banged a chick. even cuter was the way i dated the other guy and turned him straight for a bit, no?

it took a life time to understand where those moments would take me

funnier new beau did same thing but not in my place....

Is newsday retarded? They are crying that an epidemic is occurring....have they ever looked up that word? They are saying bags are $6-10 bucks ... For what? Stuff stomped on by the police ? Ghost face was terrible. So annoying. Mainstream junk boxes are the worst . I wish everything was legal. Ps u forgot the best fact - more deaths occur related toAlcohol than heroin . Kinda like the same way u tried to cause controversy about the kid who was pregnant with a child and they both were already dead but u didn't mention the kid was dead causing a whole abortion debate . Dumb

a lot of people visit this blog for a blog i typically just ramble on. how? i have no idea. i don't use analytics on it, i don't use anything on it. someone explain here please? and why do you all insist on reading the boring entries?

u know its crazy when francis bacon makes it into a jay-z song #DOUBLEENTANDRES

people say,

they want to help. (i'm not asking for it)
we can fix this. (i didn't know i needin' fixing?)
we want you around for a long time. (look at burroughs, baby!)
we need you healthy. (this is healthier than asprin god fucking damnit!)
we just want our lizzy back. (it is called evolution)
we care about you but can't support your decisions anymore. (did anyone ask you to? it's my life!)
we need you to leave. (why did you beg for me back then?)

cue wilco's banjo...i can't stand it ! i can't stand it !





if you want to fix me then fix me a shot, give me a computer, and let me make you a lot of fucking money - it is what i do & that's how i operate.

Can Your Customers Find You Online?

sometimes, doing marketing, i want to shout


WHO THE FUCK CARES!

but somehow

i always return to the algorithms

you motherfucking devils, you.

remembering things of old loves from 05

your smoking patterns
your hate for words like bb
your love letters that reminded me the loss of writing still exists
your hate for women, myself included
your love of pussy, and head too
your philosohpy ways and turning evrything into a debate
your way of teaching me north, south, east, and west on this island
your way of all having the same fucking name
your intelligence & teaching me to not play dumb anymore
your wit (that barely worked on me)
your horrible gift on valentines day: an i love you followed by yes i cheated on you
your intimidation of me (for no reason)
your leaking a tape of me
you destroying a computer

you being a rebound of the man i loved
you being there because it was available
your skinniness

again again, your intelligence, you manipulative son of a gun.


 
but thank you, for teaching me all the things i wanted and did not want in a man.

"
she took it all from me, now I can't find my place - do you 'member me, do you know my face?


it
could
all
be
a
dream
"

quite accurate

my version of a kaddish.

i think of you, bright smile and wide eyed little boy, mischievous soul, westbury theatre 5cent films: age 5. i didn't know you then and i won't know you after life stops biting at a heel. still, the memories you've created surface. little boy in a dresser sleeping in an old shack because yr seed was a rotted one. traveling on buses with a mad woman for a mother - begotten child yet forgotten child, you still were a nurturing father. teaching of your knowings & explorations & life tales & fairy tales of what others deserve. opening my eyes to that of a bulls mind. headed to the end, yr old but running like the bull into the nights direction. no teeth seen. sometimes words now slip past the tongue. long rides in yr car speak of the old days in brief moments: me grade 5 you 55, taking me to what you recalled cinematic dreams. ----

yr heart beats weak but its only because yr filled with so much passion you may just explode. it's true you know. that's what really happens during a heart attack.


yr nose broken 7 times over for yr others scrapes & bruises to learn how to become aware. isn't that what you said?

yr eyes are weak but its to recall faded memories

yr hearing is strong and i never quite got away with any

never finished
never started
(needs editing)

the life of a freelancer:

you get a lot of strange things for free from a lot of people you would not expect it. you think your neighbor lives a normal life: chances are they do not.

Maybe all I need is a shot in the arm

it's funny because the only thing we disagree about is the way i chop out another line, i smash it and get excited too easily. you savor it and make sure no crumbs go to waste. and yet, i complain about the way i was raised vs you and your the frugal one - not me....but fuck do i wish all those crumbs i had once upon a time of the diesel was here to mix up with my lady lazarus.


burroughs had it right when he decided to talk about things that were not covered. i like to do the same. bobbys teacher taught him if your gonna talk about drugs you gotta do it in the simpler ways, say you took a blue pill & then describe the aftermath (think dennis johnson) me not so sure.

----
ive been in a bit of a funk you see, the dopes run dry & i know people who have it but i refuse to call beause im tired of being robbed for being a fucking white chick. sometimes i know i need to bring back my crazyside so people fuck off and stop fucking me


FAKE WORK NOT FACTUAL MORONS

nothing in the world can compare to this feeling, except, when we're feeling it together.


daydreaming of my fedora man & adventures with him that take place in our brainy brainy brains.

anyways,
i feel so at ease right now. i'm so glad i stopped talking to most of the people in my past...they are all so sad. i understand we are all on different journeys & i'm not judging anyones part of their journey they are on, but christ for fucks sake, have a little ounce of confidence within yourself. it's quite sad actually.

i had a dream this afternoon of a boy i used to write poems with back & forth & talk all night online to, mainly me writing, from another planet far far away. he was more intrigued with the social experiment & i was more intrigued with the wrongness of it all. we got it on once & it was horrible, from what I can remember anyway. it felt unnatural & unorganic & just plain old strange. i was taking bits and pieces of something blue throughout the night, feeling queasy, trying to make ten of them last, succeeding somewhat.

anyway,
we were competing in a sport that only exists in my dream, where you had to have marks on your heels & proof on your arms that you were competing.

and then i awoke without him there, happy he is not there, happy i am not athletic anymore, happy that my real lover was not home, happy that i was alone.

-----
and then i got a call from an old friend whose coming for christmas eve, & he asked me about diesel & im hoping he can find, make this girls christmas dream come true. dreaming of a off white christmas. dreaming of something else.

Here lies the misconception:

Most people think it makes you feel nothing at all. this is simply not true for me. if anything, i feel more. minus anxiety. i feel pain more, i feel love more, and i feel sadness more. i can finally open up. and withot it, i dont want anyone in my life. id rather sit in my room & stare at the walls. i dont want to see anyone. i just want to be alone.

and today im hoping my old friend comes through, not just with himself, but with some D because otherwise im just going to be bahhh humbag

a junkys christmas

http://vimeo.com/18230971


how i feel today. dead sober. not fun.

the sadness, it's annoying, kind of like an elizabeth wurtzel novel.

I write a lot then delete a lot. I have been extremely sick for weeks now. I don't think I will ever feel okay again. Motivations and ambitions are starting to blur, yadda yadda goodnight world.

most the time...

most the time i can't help but think i fucked up, majorly. what is this life anyway? most of the time i wake up crying & i can't figure out why. bP thinks im depressed. i don't think that's the case. i think it's more of most the time i feel like i am walking around in someone elses life. that's the easiest way i can describe it. most of the time i have a loop playing in my head of allen ginsberg & it goes a little something like this......

Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream--what is this life?

most of the time i'm glad that only bP knows everything about me. it's a relief actually, compared to last time in life.

who am i kidding? most of the time there's only two things in this world i want. & only one of them is human, & he's the best. that's about it for now.

Brautigan had it all wrong

dear boyfriend:

the departure of you drags on similar to tulips
or rather, two lips pressed against a cigarette
you've got the...
best kind, best mind, best poured out lines, best verbally spewed lines, best rhymes & oh yes, your even the best sign
come on baby, cuddle up in bed, come light my fire & tie me up in velvet, suede...maybe even leather.

Brautigan had it all wrong baby:
your departure is not like the Hindenburg disaster
all that, it's grandiose bullshit.

Your departure is as a simple as a last cigarette.

love girlfriend

BEGINNINGS OF POEMS THAT WERE NOT FINISHED.

born in time

waking up is no easy task when the
curvatures of relativity are on hand.
to put on a suit when one is born
into such finite circumstances,
is to pull the knot without ever owning a tie.
perhaps its the vanishing point you see.

eating breakfast never quite prepares you
even when it consist of lined pages and
a glass of hydrodynamic orange juice.
the vitamin d packed in a to-go bag is equivalent
to an education consisting of broken keys & shoestring wording -
it was no wonder the ragged tooth smile
couldn't even lace his shoe.
(parallel to last line)

with laces,,
made of yarn,
always in motion,
like the human heart,
when will it collapse?

------
my suburbia is a vanishing point
similar to sunday mornings at a born again church.
a drone,


she grew up in a methodist church
filled with those dog on' methodist ways.

---
the paranoid delinquent

everyone knew the paranoid delinquent was a bit off her rocker.
fast paced walk, to the store, back again
she wondered what the clerk knew when he always handed her a straw.


----
Ode to a Painter
3:22AM on a Friday Evening
& so it seems, in the relative context,
left in confinement




none of these are done and most have notes for self for finishing them....one day maybe. posting here bc i keep losing the file on my computer. & i finally found it after months of it lost!

theres no O in inebriated but theres an O in sober

a meeting with you was the first time i threw caution to the wind,
on a front porch a whisper led to,
let it unfold, let it all unfold
undress my love and marry it together seamlessly
as mending season has now arrived & you are the finest
stitched item in this side of new york
-------
so?
what's it to you anyway?
new PARADIGMS of social experiments
will help me AWAKEN thy senses
KNOW thyself
LOVE thyself
STARVE thyself
Find the inner peace
a balance within
leonard cohen had it right all along, all along
burroughs, you never had a chance...yet you were the genius of them all
& to my bobby, you were the one who had the SPARK / NEISTI / GENIUS rotting in you, just like little ol' me.
the only one i'd ever stay faithful for, the only one i ever dream about, the only one......

i dont want to grow up cause i'm a toys r us kid

or something like the myth they sold us. in reality, i don't want to grow up to westernized standards. why can't i be paid to be in love? or read ram das? or write beautiful poetry? why do we have to crumble to these standards? when did the entire world sell it's soul? what cost does the soul have? do we even have souls? where is the heart in all of this? is this all a myth created by my brain? are my neurons going bizerk again? have the synapses linked incorrect? why are trustas the lucky ones? and stepford wives? i will not crumble to either. maybe i should just be homeless. not in a dramatic way, but in a way that i can actually accomplish what i want at a 'grown up' age. i'd write more, but why complain? it gets us nowhere, and negative vibes just fuck with the universe, which is all in my head anyway. to each his own, right?

dear lover,

i want to write you a poem that speaks of the seas sparking below, after gods hand of glory touched it. and i want to write about the roses in full bloom and the daffodils and the lilies yr favorite too. but i can't stop thinking of the harijuku dolls and internet gaming and how much of a Buddhist i could be if only i was stronger willed, if only i could concentrate more, if only i actually wanted that.

and i want to write you a poem that can last the tale of time and make you see how much i really love you and we'd fly away but i can't even think of two words that rhyme at the moment!
---
electrical signals, running through my brain
with the first words spoken by the tribes of i, and me, and we
where are the candles lit we view?
-----
SYSTEM OVERWRITE ::::::>......i am so scatterbrained when i lay off the fun.

in another room

you play the drums & i'm bouncing around in my seat, sipping a wine, feeling groovy, debating on protesting, wondering what your debating, wonder if your debating nothing. just enjoying the sound of pounding the fuck out of yr drums. and the silence begins and yr so pretty & your so cool & i sound like im 12 in a ramble now. but how do people get so fucking good at instruments anyway? I have practiced and practiced: im lucky if i remember the chords. you, you can just pick up your sticks & play any song verbatim. it's a talent, kid.

thats all for now FOlks

why i don't write (or a cop out excuse)

id write more but theres never anything to really write that hasn't been written by my good old friend bukowski, or ginsberg, and i visit them sometimes but most of the times im too busy being like everyone else in suburbia, wrapped up in your own shit, consumed by the consumers, by yourself, by love, and hey, i'm okay with it all.

but other times i think i know i can do this, i know i can write the piece that makes me content. i don't want fame or money, i want something monumental that will get ideas flowing from others. something that can surpass time. this little blog is just for exercise for what i plan on doing but never really do. maybe one day, right? a girl can have the american dream, can't she?

NAB

sometimes you drift into my mind, and i wonder about the baby, and i wonder if yr still binging, and i wonder if your still writing, and i still have your poem to me, where you told me i'd get to the desert & dance in my poncho while on peyote, but maybe i wish that was how it went, but man, why'd you have to write it in my favourite book? why'd you have to be so invested in all my scribbles, when others are not? i suppose you've been schooled in the same language as me: scribbles inside books are the key to my everything.
but anyway, remember the ten mile walk? my very first day back. or second perhaps. i haven't done a ten mile walk in quite some time, since i've seen you in fact, and prior to that feels like a different lifetime ago. i don't remember much, besides fighting about the holographic universe, your god vs mine, you creating a new genre of writing for your movies, and anyway, i wonder if yr still a D list actor - are you famous yet? are you still quirky? are you still writing? producing movies or whatever you hollywood jet setting types do? you wanted to see my writing but of course I wouldn't show you and the minute I realized you were who you were, I knew you were famous I completely shut off, as did you, as being anonymous was of the essence in a place like that. you told me before you had a dream of me and you in love in another lifetime and fuck you man, why couldn't we just be friends then? I wonder if i'll ever cross your path, maybe i'll write to yr fan club in hopes of speaking to you. i could be that creep who just wants to see how your doing. maybe i'll stalk you out online until my fingers go blue. maybe i'll compartmentalize you like i've already done, and been doing, putting you into that place in my brain where i go to when i'm completely bored and out of all other options of stories to keep my mind at ease. who knows, right? regardless: i hope you are doing well. maybe we'll meet and dance with the wolves one day - that was the poem, wasn't it! - and i'm listening to counting crows, i doubt you even like them with yr horrible fucking music taste of something that is dub step meets souxsies and the banshees (maybe wishful thinking, but doubtful) but i think if i ever go to California in your area, i'm sure i'll be wondering about you. of course i'd never look you up, i didn't like your eyes anyway. your soon to be wife & my baby love visiting and those looks you gave made me uneasy, i just didn't like them, they reminded me of another one who should have never been here or there or anywhere, except i really think i loved that one, for a writing moment anyway.

and its weird because the ones we end up with are just as creative & sometimes even better but the best parts slide through the cracks. i wonder why, i wonder why we paint but do not write, i wonder what happened to the haikus, i wonder what happened with sitting, creating, doing what we love, but instead, rotting our brains and our arms with the drugging of tv & then some too, but hey, what is wrong with us? why does it always come to that? i know i'm not better alone & i dont want to be alone but why cant we have our cake and eat it too with just one individual? this is what i've been left thinking about.

i love him i love him & i love the downers too. amen.

a more current state

-a clear mind
-the pins are thrown away
-an old bedroom belonging to the parents, where i am currently (non)hiding
-a boyfriend 500 miles healing thyself
-a brain not rotted
-love hidden in all the corners of the room
-a great positivity
-a world undiscovered
-a shelf filled with memories
-writers block
-other items better left unsaid

a current state

a current state of my mind and surroundings includes:

-a bottle (& don't call it shitty, it's the only one here for me) of rum
-dr. brown's ORIGINAL black cherry soda. do you hear that? ORIGINAL.
-a monster brewin' within
-giggles from aesop rock's mouth helping me get through it all
-a broken jade bracelet (let's be thankful it's not the big ring. why do girls focus so hard on this 'ring' concept anyway? can be broken just as easily)
-a phone in another room with lady gaga singing the blues (kill her already, with the demons, please)
-ripped painted canvas (if that-s what we can call it)
-a scarf to cover the scarves
-not a dime to my name
-not an enjoyable substance to my name
-nothing to my name and completely content with the thought of this


and yourself? how have you been?
well, let's hope !

winter is a brewing

winter is brewing like coffee stains on your ratty jeans & jet black oil paint splattered not on the canvas, instead, the rug, and i'm okay with that, and as are you, and the bruises were formed within the closets but now are fading too
doo boop be doop

i'm not going to lie

sometimes i miss you because i can
miss revolutionary roads & i'll never
miss your kisses because I never would
let it go that far but i will miss your
bed even though i've slept in many that
were much nicer but I will miss the pills

and then I think of you the afterward of revolutionary road
and sometimes i'll miss your cock even though the pills had
it not working too good, sometimes ill miss how pretty you
thought i was, because i really do think you looked at me
like i was the prettiest
and sometimes ill miss us being sid & nancy
but i know i can never go back.
neither can you.

but sometimes i do think it'd be nice to carry on an affair, secretive
of all the world to see but i dont think ill ever find someone
special enough for that again.
besides, i love bobby.

haikus brought on by a forced fed seating waiting for the iphone

& what is this life?
pixelated screens running
alternate realities

communication
veiled like a widowed bride now
held in masses hands

a priest destiny
consist of combining his


soothsayers dream on
material items will not
fulfill yr black voids

instead, marketing
filled with euphoric dreams
will mask the landscape

chosen as backgrounds
or perhaps, a quick photo
taken to feel free

once, a lover said
placate the masses my dear
this is whats become

& what is this life?
1200 gathered for phones
in suburbia

avoiding real screams
locked in treasure chest
buried deep in hearts

the departure of you drags on similar to tulips
or rather, two lips pressed against a cigarette.

cradled in between, the smoke or firey flame or something
each passing of a breath means the loss of colour and stature and feet on the ground
each shadow overpowering the ground and its illuminosity

holding on to a fastening silence seatbelt in place
hands entertwined on miraculouos days
hot coffee lurking in a belly filled with regret
through a wired mine field of lock jaw