i am getting a kitty in 2 months, i get to pick. i think i'll let the kitty pick me, he's going to be hilarious. that means i need to find a back alley apartment. my friend's cat just had kittens on top of a stack of her old poetry. that's pretty cool.

if peopleknew how hard it was for me to enjoy something, anything, i think they would leave me alone more when i was enjoying it. i am going to wear that t-shirt when ever i do shit. maybe i'll just wear the face, but more people would bother to read a tshirt it seems.

another thing i love about life is being the personal mucus factory for a thousand fucking kleenexes i'll never live long enough live down so i may as well kill myself before i murder another thousand trees, fuck that, i am not going any where, my misery is here to stay, and i ain't responsible for all that shit, i am however fucking pissed about it.

jon stewart keeps talking about how he loves bacon, that's it he got me, i'm back in completely reinfra-franchised or whatever... wtf? it's still funny to hear the big headed jew talk about loving bacon, baby steps. i love bacon too... most porc products... i am a fan of most ,meats, mmmm meat.

everytime i hurt something stupid i did to myself, remember some shit that i haven't thought of in forever because why would you think of stupid shit like that i keep wanting to hurt someone else for it, like i was in a continuous battle with humanity. fuckit and fuck serenity now, i'm this pissed off and sad and directionless because i am, time to focus that shit on a point i want to break. it's weird cuz i want to deprive my friends of their family and security and social sphere from high scholl because that shit makes them retarded, i'm obviously not going to try and do that so when the feeling overwhelms me i just leave.

seperately unless of course you're one of those but we'd welcome the diversity if you'd care to swap in and outs, otherwise get on an ice flow with your "heat bubble".

i think youy people are dead.

no it's not getting better today,

yes

it will be around tommorrow.


i am moving to the country


all i know is who's comming to greenland with me and bringing their sperm and ovum.

i am not going to love myself, i am myself. i love people i feel as if would be good for my children, for having my children for being around my children, end game, there had be at least one sucker out there as smart and desperate as me.


does everyone who comes here just not wnat me to kill myself or have i ever written anything that makes sense?


i'm fucking trying and i could use a little help.


i'm trying to get my personal life in order, don't tell me i'm gonna make out worse than what i had (which was a vial of me and a whole lot of vile energy).

i hate when people tell me to get a drink of water, i like it to feel that way,
i remember when you used to rub your chin against my cheek untill it went red and we'd choke on each others tongues. i'm sicki of people telling me what art is, i am art, this is art and most of all, LOVE is art.

and i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know i know but i can't care to write for you. it's quiet here where you are not surprised by anything people tell you and your mistakes have become pleasant reminders that people are paying attention, it's quiet here where you still have to write because you are broken and no amount of anything you could need now could ever fix it's quiet because the missing space doesn't cut the loop it grows together only to short circuit itself, i left the house twice today, once suffer through more mind numbing self control and another to get papers, io got doritos too, the spicy nacho kind. my lips kind of burn, and my mouth feels dry, i remember when we meant it, or at least i did, i'll never get where you're going you'll never get where i've been. i don't even wanna gt anywhere anymore, i just want you to shut up.

i wish i knew how to write right now but i don't but that doesn't mean i'm gonna stop, i hate this crap, and i hope i meet someone soon that doesn'yt suck assssssssssss.

i'm here getting drunk as fuck but what if not doing is trying to get along with people just to slowly change my ideas to fit in, i'm here to find out what the fuck is going on, fine fuck, nobody else wants to? i'm leaving i'm gone, up into the woods and out.

if i just kept sitting at home this is what i would do... i am going crazy nothing is okay nothing gets done, and i'm sick to death of this shit.

often i'm sitting on my feet and they're going all numb but i don't care yet enough to move them, this process takes like 4 years or so b4 i start stopping something before permenant damge is done.

suffice it to say the first day back at work was awesome.

i wish i had something nice to give you but i am angry poo man, check back in a couple of years when i've fermented into a native ritualistic drink.

people tell me all the time that this movie that sucks or this group that sucks was good and i should waste my time on it. they get mad at me when i come back and say that shit sucked, in the same position i usually get sad, and i wonder why so i ask, often it's because their head is so far up their ass they don't know what's going on outside the colon, other times it's because they'd been fucked in some way i hadn't and i was glad to hear of it. either way it doesn't happen much anymore because you've made it so i hate everything.

i refuse to go into detail
about how much you disgust me
for fear of spreading it to you,

most people have no idea what it means to be completely free from this jumble of people, good for you, but don't try and tell me you know what it's like or anything at all. you all can't even make up your minds what you feel or what you want, i do, i just find it difficult day in day out meeting so many of you that thikn it has something to do with your mother's birthday.

you all smell like elephant dung three feet deep anyway.

i like what my brain does with homonyms, you try and figure it out for now, i don't care, i'm going to edit it for me anyways, i would rather read some jackass rambling than some calculated cohesive piece of poo.

there's alot of people out there that write these things as if their going somewhere, they ain't you best hope you are fuck wad, why are you on the internet any way what are you some superhero with extra time on his hands? the thing is too ridiculous to believe. look at my side bar, check it after i move sites, thats what the fuck i'm doing why? i don't know, so that when people who don't really care try and get in my face i can sigh and relax relive a poem and sell them a point or two, fuck man, write something real, all i'm trying to do is feel real enough to write if it means fucking anoying a few thousand of you, icing, sheer icing.

NONE OF THIS HAPPENED JUST YESTERDAY,

NONE OF IT.

i'm gonna get something i want.


some peace and quiet in my brainextending into the future, i can start again a million miles away, i will find a way.

this is a fairly amuzing concept, short cellular film to follow.

karma checking internally since 1982, takin it to the next level circa 2006.

btw this is your only alternative righteous fuckers, better give up soon b4 i get bored enough to karma check your infant.

anytime you're nervous and drop shit in a bar spit that followed by some mother fucking murrpphy's law is more like it followed by a beaming knowing smile and a wink.

a term was coined this weekend following much strange doubled conversation involving one guy who hadn't the faintest and onother who really thought he knew everything, the term is KARMA CHECK people, obviously coined by the oblivious one following two chaotic and possibly fatal sketchy choices. obviously on the third one i failed and drew a red light speeding on a skate. i obviously bailed, next we karma checked an infant, the infant passed cuz a guy cut in front of me before i could plunge the baby head first into the concrete. feew that woulda been a massive karma check for me as well. FUCK KARMA FUCK FORGIVENESS FUCK SINS FUCK SHIT DEFINETLY FUCK PURITANISM IN ANY FORM, JUST DON'T TRY AND FUCK ME BECAUSE I'LL CUT OUT YOUR TONGUE AND LACE IT THROUGH YOUR EYES. fucking this shit.

all i want is the rest of this week off.

i took a bunch of vitamins, they don't do anything but maybe they'll magically work.
vitamins are awesome.

i WILL not leave this place feeling worse than when i got here. all of this to learn to live and breathe while burning, short path.

my whole body is sore, wtf this feels like everything i've ever had at once. how can a human get so disgusting?

soup is good, i like soup alot, that and meat, like poultry fish... red ass beef, venison, fuckit dog, cat, whatever. i like soups cuz you put all them bones in and shit and your whole house smells like a mother fucking roasting menagerie.

i'm gonna eat some soup, then my nose'll run and i feel good enough to not kill myself.

i feel like i can't wriggle out of this disgust, i think i am supposed to let go instead. i feel it on my face, and now it's yours. at least i feel more capable.
boo sickness. yay health.

i'm tired and i can't write right now.

that makes me sad.

it makes me sadder that it always feels like

my fault and that i have to kill someone for it.

maybe if i knew why...

naw it would still matter

fuck this shit.

i just slept another twelve hours and my chest is filled with golden green mucus
and my nose a fountain of the same... i feel like i'm dying.

cuz i am.

i have a fever and i can't taste anything.

i'm skipping work, i can't afford to.

i am miserable and pathetic.

i hope i feel functional soon.

i have the fucking flu, this rocks.

that and please fuck off.

bleh, i'mtired.

idon't really know what to write anymore.

thanks to all the people i wish i was holding.

and that i don't wanna feel about it at all.

i don't know how this goes,

or how it lasts,

all i know is i can't.

i feel really sick, i'm going to bed.

i find it hard to believe that i have to keep doing this, i need money, but i just want to crawl into a hole and die.

i'm gonna find myself
i'm gonna leave tonight
i will
yes
i will.

i'm really tired and i need you to hold me.

i guess there should only be a few of me at a time, but fer sake's sake give us unproportional representation, it's not righter, it's just less focused, place yourselves within it, stop hurting me.

and anyone who ever just wrote in to tell me that no one cares how my day was can fuck right off. you'll listen to that and everything else because it's good, this blog will never save the world, but we might.

i hope that people who realize that terrorism is a result of terrorism realize that their is nothing for a victim to ever do, you rebel, hurting yourself, retreat in shame, or die, hopefully both so far as we're concerned, the thing is, i get that... there was nothing else to do given this data set, and no reason to ever trust another.... there was nothing else to do... it all sucks, but as cats falling from trees, my wincing has never done anything, i keep wincing.

bodies like this shouldn't be banged about concrete.

and why do i have to grit my teeth to keep all of this straight?

art makes me strong(,) like any drug(,) so weak when i stop. i love the down, but i can't work on it, it's about time for me to stop for tonight, more on this later.

naw seriously, all i got's my experiences and a jarbled message on an answering machine that deleted half of half the words. a message relayed by my parents from the child psyche back to me: you got some problems paying attention there boy, you keep fudging things, and you keep fucking up the details.

what is this life? and how many psychs am i gonna go to until i apreciate someone else's opinion, and how the fuck would i pay any of them? i am too fucking crazy to figure it out myself, it sometimes just feels like running up against a brick wall of yourself over and over again, you know if you could just side step you'd get by, but for some reason you find yourself stuck in momentum face first into a mold of you everytime., i guess i'm wearing it out or something. why is it so hard for me to concentrate?, why am i so god damned weird? why am i so sad?, why am i so sore? Why am i so explosive? Why does my brain only work when i am all alone and on a skateboard?, why do i know everything sometimes?, those times. Why do i feel it all beating under my tongue waiting for the word to come across the cross hatched brain? why do i sing and sometimes i scream? why does having someone to hold and love make all those things fucking beautiful?... Wtf is wrong with me? more on this later of course.

i want to see your bright gold desperation.

i want to play music with someone who is crazy for music.

i waaaaannnaa

fuck.

my body is screaming sadness, and i am feeling like weird shit.. i neeed to design a phoenix canary canenix phoenary for a tatoo to partially cover the shame that is my body.

i feel really old sometimes when i catch myself thinking sometimes i just catch myself dreaming a dream of moving because it is too lonely to stay anylonger, and a man falling, falls face first when he no longer puts one foot ahead of the other

i hope i can support myself, i guess i'll blow that bridge when i get to it too.

i guess i am kinda breaking myself, but it is taking too long, and i hope i remember everything it took.

not too fucking much.

i am poop faced poop mcpoooper poop what to do? not too much right now, not too much.

ps that means fuck tailoring some shit to mother some shit, just break em then SUPPORT THEM mind you breaking someone can be a pretty specific process, for example the case of me a multifucked supra individual.

ASHLEY MACISAAC is planning on running for prime minister, he just said, or rather i just saw him say "i don't like SEPARATISTS" and they just aired it sans commentaire. WTF is all i will ever have to say. how can you dislike an entire group of people based on the fact that they don't realize that localized city state governement is exactly what the corporations would like us to implement. hate the IDEA all you want but you'll get pretty lonely if you get frustrated with people instead of things (which) you can (could) actually break.

as failure becomes fading option

i'm realizing that i only feel half as tired as i am

and i need a three week vacation in amsterdam toute seul, and i am going, this summer.

everybody should go nutzer,


it's funny.

oh my heart only beats on the stage

wearing gogol and coloured with rage.

WILL

you can't teach me lessons that i've already learned

if we keep on trucking
it's our children who'll burn.



lyrics are mine to fuck with.

cool.

i will do many covers like that,

some will be declared poems

and i will hold them tightly
as the ship sinks.

i keep making the smallest internet circle ever, i feel blah because i am blah, i feel like i'm waiting for a stiff wind to pick me up that i can follow for awhile, there's none of that, i know. so i don't write bitter when i'm fucking around but i don't write better if i'm stuck in the ground.

the duck's gone and now all that's left is this greasy feeling of uneasiness.

duck tastes like all the love i'll never have and don't neeed now that i have duck.

my dick hurts from so long of trying to make it work.


i wrote that, ate some stolen duck and forgot that i had written it.

cool. it does. that's not cool. i doesn't that's even worse.

eardrugs inciting eargasm and eyedrugs inciting holy visions and now even nose candy as you remember life, and whatever touch we can envelop those parts of us which are so cold they threaten to freeze off and die, in our bodies everything missing will be yours and yours mine.

talent make product that's art life. product of our artluv.

and we'll make love in front of the crowd as we consume each other until nothing is left but art.

we'll play a funeral dirge and dance a tango, jive to a march.

you can play the fiddle.

i already love you, all you have to do is love this decrepid piece of shit and he'll dance for nickels.

door's open for muses you know, don't you wanna be a muse? i know i do, what's wrong with you?, i am artluv.

mostly i was there because they were closed door meetings, now adays i wouldn't care, they're all closed door meetings, i know what the fuck is going on.

tear gas canisters in your hand, pepper spray in your hot exhaled breath and an indy media station bathed in blood.

and another thing... i was there, that shit was fucked up, but at least it felt semi normal this post posting world is more than bizarre, i am tired and sick and lonely and tired and lonely.

if there's one good thing about techmology it's amplifiers, i'm gonna get me one, and an over drive pedal or two.

bah

tired old clips coexisting until they die

a song so sad you don't know how to sing it yet.

my life is my metaphor
where the fiction is truth.
i will find my way home.

it's pretty lonely in my brain. i really want to be with someone else in there.

it's been very hard letting myself down so easy but i think i got the picture and i won't be calling for a few months at least.

often when i catch myself thinking i'm not thinking at all, just tones, feelings, i guess ratios and stuff but i don't get the ratios, only harmonies.

now i am just hung over and tired. i see lots of pretty girls, none of this makes sense.

so fucking lonely i could kill you
so fucking lonely i could die.

she looked like this famous cartoonish portrait that garver did on miami ink, i want to hold her, no one wants to touch me, i am lonely.

i just saw the most besutiful girl in the world, black hair ruby lips and i can't say hello i hope i see you again.

special thanks to the pants for reminding me of gogol bordello i had seen them on the boob but i hadn't clicked in yet found them invigorating forgot to check up... i am so glad i did, when there are people as real and crazy and driven who needs hapiness.

i'm quiting quiting i guess that makes me more of a quitter.

when you have life
well you have life
when you take life
you still have life

1 2 go
go go go

i finally wrote lyrics to my energizing eastern european psycho song, i think more of this to be incorperated in the future.

tv is stealing my brain,
the name of moe's aa bar is the retox...

awesome.

my roomate turned on the tv that bastard, but it is the simpsons so i'll suffer through a few mild chuckles.

i wanna sing of my love for you in a song dirty enough to be true.

i feel like turning on the tv i am so lonely but i'm gonna try not to.

now i'm all sober and i feel worse. your love makes me sick.

i'm too drunk to tell you but it's there, i lover you and i don't know how to care properly, fuck it, i AM alone


everyone is and if you're not, fuck off suck wad.

there s nothing to write, you know, and i need you to get off me first, otherwise you won't be getting off at all, get it? got it? good.

tear me up just to drag me down?


fuck it i'm gonna melt my crown.

i'm here alone



and finally you've sut up, leave me alone i don't want what's best i want, i am tired i need to fuck off.

i will hurt you so bad you don't wanna hear anymore, fuck it, sometimes i love you.

The Passion Automatica,

subdominance & the alleged honour

The Passion Automatica,

collections of a coalescing human.

note to kim sears and like four others in grade school, i owe you one gut wrenching uncivilized sensation of total geneticide. ovarian flicks for everyone.

the real difference between males and females is the location of the reproductive organs. my reason for living is, has been, and always will be exterior to me. it's still me, it's just different, it's something i have to think about either way.

i'm not scared. i am not here to race. i am here to slit throats and make love, bathing in the blood.

it's some sort of motherfuckin neverending relay race if it's anything, our job as real people is accepting that our first hand-off is going to come well before our first child, but if you want you can have back in, as many times as you can run, faster.

i don't know about you, but my life started at birth and it will end at death right so it's going somewhere.

fucking circle driving gas wasting defeatist fucks racing for victory. http://randumb-drawings.blogspot.com/ funny occasionally, very occasionally.

see this, this is funny, that's what i hope happens to these fucking idiots.

it's like everything has coalesced and is sitting in position ever so lightly leaning up against each other and i just have to real careful like squeeze them together and slide them into my skull. my hands have stopped trembling strangely now at the most anxious i have ever been. this crucial moment has brought a return of the out facing calm.

i'm gonna be boring for at least another month, later.

at least i had heroes.

i don't know what it was but by the end of the series my hero always ended up with the king's blood on his hands, thank god for science fiction. i would've been an even worse jerk.

i am bored to death of this.

when theres too much going on to really pay attention,
sometimes it just slips out
and you stand there naked wondering
why your genitals didn't come precovered
if god soooo wanted it that way.

i'm starting a bathroom stall graffitti series.

that shit wasn't even that hard or aggravating.

i guess i'm lazy.

oh god i've gone all visual.

ps i've only posted it to host it for my profile. fuckers.

i think i'll take more pictures of funny things now.

okay so i just uploaded my phone pictures to the innerdweeb my phone is amazing, the resolution isn't half bad.

i'd erase all those late published repeats but it makes more sense the way it is now, i'm going to smoke some trees and drink a beer, i'm tired and i am pushing as hard as i can, sissy fuss was always forgetting his wedge because he'd never forced anything open before.

it puts everything into a perspective that isn't quite as vertigo inducing, just high enough.

it puts everything into a perspective that isn't quite as vertigo inducing, just high enough.

why does everyone give up so easily? i don't have anything to write because all i want is someone to love so everything can be quiet for two minutes in my head. this weeks goal: make it through this week.

why does everyone give up so easily? i don't have anything to write because all i want is someone to love so everything can be quiet for two minutes in my head. this weeks goal: make it through this week.

why does everyone give up so easily? i don't have anything to write because all i want is someone to love so everything can be quiet for two minutes in my head. this weeks goal: make it through this week.

it's a vets hospital.

it's a vets hospital.

its a vets hospital.

its a vets hospital.

"...there is not a record collection in the world that is complete without at least half a dozen led zep records...black sabbath is what ozzy osbourne did before he had a reality tv show..." crazy sounds as i am drifting into conciousness in time to go to bed. good bye.

we all need some wires in our brain, skip the life plastic

a little fear, a little more drive,
a little love to numb the hide,
some more sadness to carry truth
all the way to this anger
that i'll have to live through.

where we will we begin tonight in forging quiet bonds
of emotions?
cocktails ripe for destruction?
we'll meet at ten.

i smell like fear and revulsion
from the violence,

smeared across the sweet forever
of a soft kill.

you will not bury me in
pacifism

hers will be a story of longing and disgust

and eventually death.

you metro sexuals with your flat faced nothingness

we fought not to fight, forever.

your history of dominance has stagnated us

i will tear you limb from limb

and i will not follow your widow

back to her home to breed in silence as we did.

he should probably get a blog too, but he doesn't wannnnnnaaa < Also he's reading this over my shoulder.

freehand of course, if he used grids and stuff id make fun of him... now who thinks he should get off his ass and do some cool graf art and political type cartoons on this ma??

that seems so boring it is impossible.

this is some creepy shit my crazy roomate does sometimes.

i'm tired and sad and far too disagreeable. also this is boring.

my head hurts from how bad that sounds and my gut from laughing so hard.

also, today overheard on television news "...just came here to see how new orleans is doing after being kicked in the teeth..."

thats the first image i've ever used, i was just looking for topographical maps found that, had a little wank on mother nature's expense account.

http://www.ncedc.org/anss/maps/template/world_2.gif

is it just me or is the atlantic ocean a really hot chick kneeling down, all legs and torso?

i hate this crap, when i can't really do anything

just tired and waiting for tommorrow, when i will pray for friday.

one of these days alice, pow(,) wow both of us to the moon.


i feel like poo.

i'm dizzy and i don't know why my chest feels like it is suffocating me, like my lungs and heart are swollen, everything is closing up. i'm tired and bored and i know this is all a lot of work. i need some happy soon or i am going to flip out.

i've decided to go completely nuts again, fuck it. fuck you and your suv fuck your backwards pov you suck and should suck me.

i guess all those emotions are tied up in there to all the memories and the futures you'd created, when i relax they are all around me and their faces i can still touch just so softly til it's more than i can take again and i come back to you love and you keep me alive, because i won't ever feel that way again. one day soon i'll find you and you'll find me, and another, and another, and another. i will grow so slowly you won't notice, so hard and so strong you will not know me. we will take our love to their throats and demand our rights and innocence for our children.

waking up next to someone you love is like a little shot of coccaine before work. It just reminds you why you are doing all this, a junkie can do anything.

i am fucking tired.

also it's sunday which makes me want to wipe that smirk right off your face.

and horny which is fucking ridiculous.

i need cunt all around my cock,

i want your love.

some people are prettiest
when their voice finally cracks
and their mascara is running because they're
crying and tired and all the things you don't
have the balls to do.

they will be so pretty when they are done with me
and their voice filled with hot breath and long knives
and anger to steady your hands i will love you until you
are strong, and i will worship you from then on

i am not hear to play, i am hear to sing
slitting throats to the heavy rythm of corpses falling,
you will not know his name.

and angry, but that one's just funny.

fell in love three time tonight, i'm back(,) bitch you can't keep a tasty cock down (how you gonna swallow mine).


also fuck them man, i should always feel this gleefully evil.

i am pretty

very pretty

and a psycho

and i like it.

ah hell theres a couple more of my friends that can have a lick, but i don't even know where they are right now.

lastly if i don't have sex soon, i will be even hornier than i am now which means i may have an aneurysm, i don't know how to spell that and i am too distracted to care. somebody better be close physically that i want to touch at least, i'm just going to pretend that i am sleeping with Jack and the pants and TRUE.

i am so fucking broke and all i can listen to right now is the white stripes. i love you all but if you come any closer i swear to god i will fucking kill you.

if you don't like the white stripes you are a big fucking dillweed.

and i'll be coming for you to drag you under where i can molest you.

i've told you, that picking sides is unacceptable, you are going to have to decide where you stand on the matter itself.

theres only no dichotomy when you finally contain them, those mean the same thing, out of which you can if you so choose the bitterest realty of our short lives.

why does my shit work so good and yours so bad? i don't know but i don't care anymore

a girl once asked me why i abuse my body so much. obviously my body isn't too good to me, my mind even worse so. it has to be dulled in order to see through the pain, you people make me sick.

i need money now

short nights and crazy talk leave me jumpy and stoned.

i guess the only constant in my life
is pain

physical

all physical

sometime one pain cuts in and another one cuts out, but only when i have shit to do.

SO DO LOVE IT

i'm tired and i don't know
theres a depth of sadness there that i can't touch. it reflects SO
lightly that a single ripple seems to disturb it and I don't know what
the fuck to do. i know what and even when now, but i can't DO
anything about it. i'm not supposed to, it's beautiful and you LOVE IT.

but that point i can't touch is me.
and

as a general rule:
that makes you feel real alone.

i am also bored, sad and without anyone
or anything that is not going to make me very nice.

i am a jerk and i am sick of being nice.

i guess the point is that i want to die now.

you better make this better or i'll kill you

otherwise i wouldn't have.

you idiots

people should just be nicer to me, i would grow up in due time. jerks.

i think you're all a bunch of fuckers, some of whom i like.

why so sensitive?, i guess 'cuz it's sore. it doesn't getter better by punching it. fuck.

alec my boy, you have some auditory abilities you've been hiding there boy, yes yes! some sound secrets, well we're going to expose them boy. i want to hear them, yes yes! out with them dear boy.

rapping is fun too, i want to do it more often, i hope i feel like doing it soon.

playing guitar is fun. i like it, i hope other people like it too.

alec my boy, where are you?

i don't think you should every treat a child like a pet he will growe up to be one scary ass pet mother fucker.

i am every me

i'm sorry to break your heart my dear
in front of all these pretty people here
but i do exist as if thats not clear
your fantasy only ends in fear.

i'm not here to play i am here to dance through the dark slitting throats to the heavy rythm of corpses falling, you will not know my name.

faye is gaye

fuckit.

i'm going to play guitar because my hand is all bloody from punching the fridge, and you have to sing when you don't want to scream.

cat eaten by dog vomits baby that i crushed with my gavel.

case adjournerd i am not your pet

you never ever tell someone that they can have affection only when you want to give it to them, i am not who i am too you, i am ME.

I WILL NEVER LET ANYONE MAKE ME FEEL LIKE THAT AGAIN.

GOOD DAY SIRS AND MADAMS.

TINKLER FUCK

call me.

and realize shit is fucked

and you're gonna have to be the

best thing to ever happen to it.

there's shit you aren't proud of,
nothing too argumentatively wrong
but shit where you let your reward
to risk ratio enter into your opinion

without takin into account hers
and when she's that sweet, you
have
to
grow
up.

discernable from nothingness

only by the smell:

clinicallly ionized air.

grocery list dichotemizing

constantly rearranged into any instant maintainable freestyle

the balance is the only constant

faye is really sweet.

i feel like poo.

but at least i feel like something.

i don't want to anymore. i'd rather be scared and confused, because now i'm all sadand angry. i can see and i don't want to help i just want to talk to that trapped person, that real trapped person because i am just as alone as they fucking are..... and i KNOW it

i wrote because i loved you, now i don't because i do.

i really want someone to get excited about kicking some fascist greed clear cross to the curb. first i need to figure a better way to make paper stacks.

this has been a long time coming but i don't know what to do now that it is here, i am feeling really strange in this space i feel unwanted and useless right now. not reallyanxious about it, that is how i feel, there's no number of fucking coats of paint that can cover this anymore, well boo, i am going to go figure out somethign fun to do, you know: all spiritual reevaluation and no play make jack go fucking crazy...

i'm really tired.

i wish my life didn't end like this, but it always does.

blaaargggh. this is the 1(a)st worst day of my life i am going to have, i promise.

i lost my scam job, the cops shut her down, i lost aweeks pay and now i am fucked and have to start my other shit job again. everything looks up just to get knocked down.

i hate hanging out with someone, leaving and feeling more detached from them than the last time you hung out. i hope she misses me a bit again. although she didn't seem certain of anything.

WTF?


and i know you have no idea what i am talking about, but WTF?


i'm pretty bored, and more than a little sad.

just met a girl, her name is faye
i'm going to see her again today.

she left me hanging with massive blueball,
but i don't care cuz shit was fucked.

and i am going to cure that right now anyhow.

also i have to go to work, soon,
whatever gears are shifting.

i'm in a pretty foul mood right now, reasons: none. i guess i'm just BORED and tired. ALL MY FRIENDS KIND OF ANNOY ME. everyone else really annoys me, is that wrong?

fuck.

where's my concrete womb?, i'll have my concrete womb.... nothing will kep my from this, not even sanity.

i need to mean that to be to you what i was with you

i need you to know what tyhat means to me.

i did that. i miss touching you, send me a body sometime soon, i will love it to pieces and back together again.


i'm sorry love, i didn't mean to miss you,

but you were standing so close to her in the crowd

and i was afraid.

'bye love.

i'm gonna do it anyway because my heart will give out at the end of the day.

i dunno, now i hurt, like a thousand pushups into insanity.

now i'm really going to play guitar, and i am going to be sorry.

i don't have a plan, there's my secret, none, i'm trying but i keep forgeting where i left the body.

you could let it go


you could hold me; because you want to, no one else will and because i'll die if you don't.

or you could let me shiver until i am cold enough to be happy with everything freezing. i miss her. i miss trusting in someone, i miss what i never had, why did you wake me up to let me know it was all about to blow?, fuck you fuck.

i wish it didn't, but it does and you do, but not me, not me i am alone here out where the shadow ends, i wish you would let go.

i'm sad and it's never quiet cept for the sound of her humming, her dying, taps at least

into a nerve that cares.

there's a spot on the screen that makes it look like pairs, well not pairs but pares but that doesn't make any sense does it? i do.

why don't any of you know like that, that what happened is what we did? that we couldn't cuz we're just kids.

i'd settle for her walking again.

i wish this made neon letters ten feet tall cuz i LOVE YOU and nobody cares, i want to cause accidents at least.

what i mean by that you fuicking reeet teet tarred is OF COURSE i love and OF COURSE you've let me down, BUT OF COURSE i fucking NEED you and of course you hear the sound.

all i can say to that is yeah biatch taste my truth my thastes like cream, why? cuz itas the tip of the top the heippest of the hop it's the fuck off that you've been waiting for..... FUCK OFF FUCKERS.

and what i mean by that is fuck you you fucking fuck nuts, i do this and i don't care what you think. my nuts taste like sweeet bugeye inducing methanol, why don't you just fucxk off b4 you get hurt.

i am going to go play guitar like a queer bot because i can't be any louder... fuckers.

and despite the better judgement left n my ventricle, there will be alot more of THIS.... you know what is the opposite of life?.... me, of sex?... once again... of tribulations? jubilation... fuck off FUUUCCCKKK. OH GHOD I'M SORRY, NOT REALLY BUT I DON'T MEAN TO SUCK THIS BAD IT IS JUST THAT I AM SERIOUS i wish that i was "allowed" to use stylized fonts again.

oh, and there will be a lot more of this garbage.

i am officially no more fun. sorry(,) i'm not.

i have chosen the only road. respect.

blaaargggh

i'm gonna try to be nicer, but that might mean having some patience, and forcing me to have patience is the agonizing realization that i am making sense and you refuse to, i am sad.

i wanted to scream but i only managed to choke on it.

i want to leave, but i don't know where else to go. there's nowwhere within this rotten country i could stand for long enough to work and evedrywhere else requires pesky little permits, boring shit man, boring shit.

it's strange and awful how a general malaise affects both your sleep and your ability to get up. fuck man, i've written that before under love's heavy influence, i think it worked out better, i think i'll have to check the archives.

sometimes i just wish i get arrsted, i don't think it will happen but the though has coached me towards many a failure.

i am bored, BORED, and sexually frustr strut rated. i was supposed to see some hot chick, she bailed, i didn't feel like going out, i guess it doesn't matter. there's a pit of despair i get to sip from when i'm feeling empty, after it sucks a few parts of you down the drain you wake up and realize you have shit left to steal, i guess being your own alarm clock has its advantages. i'm pretty lonely. it's pretty hard to get it figured out to the point where poeple will listen, bla bla bla i made you read that shit.

people can comment all they want, but i just read that and fuck, nobody is drunker than me, go fuck yourselves

i know officially steal money for a living, surprisingly i feel a little better, on a more tenacious note: ffffuuuuccccck, and i wish i felt normal enough to get laid i feeel like a retarded tasmanian devil trapped in a dime bag. i don't now what my problem is exactly but it is better than not having a problem, i';m figuring, whatever anyways i feel like i'm being retarded which means i am being exceedingly retarded which means i am signing off i'm done y'all i don't know what it means but i love you.