“I am profusely sweating, write that down.” I can’t keep up with this… I’m standing on Mount Vesuvius. I’m taking a nap on thiss h ower. The walls are clawed… I am not imagining this.We were two sides to one person… At first we were like little kids again, exploring the regions of the unknown and beginning to love and understand the world around us. As the night bled on, we dug our way under the surface to find ourselves screaming. I’ve never felt so naked, so exposed to a single person in my entire life. Every thought that swam its way into our heads was screamed at each other. Our emotions were thrown up all over the walls. I’m so sore right now. We were little acrobats, throwing ourselves around in a desperate attempt to be one with this world. Everything seemed to melt into everything. We were breathing with the trees and watching our fingers float away. There was a time when I looked into the mirror and saw myself as another person. At times being exposed to everything you’ve ever felt was too much. 

Pencil to paper, and to paper, will
the ticket stub to our latest thrill.

 

 

 

force reaction

Omnipresent distractions: seemingly pressing enough to ignore what my conscience once thought defined a meaningful life. Useless attempts to stop what I’ve started, to return to my mindless self indulgence. Opposite force working together to trigger a reaction–Impending relief.
Launching myself down a road of incredible velocity, zig-zags and uncontrollable vibrations. The sugar coated path is tempting. Taking advantage of my weakness– my drifting fading willpowe.  Indifferent to my further purpose. Intentions are worthless. More tainted conversations with yesterday’s reflection. A full force, high speed train with no breaks. worn from the cycle. Forcing the wear and tear of never-ending days. Slaves losing a sense of redemption.

Hoping to satisfy the new tomorrow and yet sick of being compelled to be perfect.

So this is what I’ve been waiting for all along.  It’s surprising how grateful I am for this nothing.

Strange blur of emotion
but somehow void.
My restless mind exploring the opportunities of life
unnecessary anticipation
recalling the past with peace
the only difference is percetion.
The reoccuring confusion.

The melody flowing through my bloodstream, regulating my heart beat, reimbursing my drifting, fading willpower. I think I’d rather spend the rest of my life listening to this song, The Piano Man. No really, I would, Even if it is compromised by Elly’s eager singing voice. It’d be nice to just sit on Ashley’s couch, illuminated by the lights and the hand-made ornaments of our second grade years. I want to return to my home planet. Our crazy consists of the bath tub, it’s our sanctuary, where we drown our stagnant thoughts in our sea of blankets. Where our feelings dance in the mind of the other and are thrown up all over the walls. I’ve never felt so whole, so accepting of my fate. I’m not saying it wasn’t painful, though. Knowing that there are people who obtain comfort in watching someone else’s struggle because it signals their success. We’ve lost our enchantment for this world, for anything but ourselves

Muse. Compound. Word. Lifeless. Growing desire. The emptiness of the room seemed to echo so loudly within the boundaries of it, my protective snow globe. My movements began to increase at a rapid pace, seeming to distract my mind from the numbing sensations that started to make their appearance. I was in a state of pure confusion. Is this my life? I think to myself. My existence defined by the days that sponge together, dulling with each compromise. Unhappy, numbing, alone. By this point I’d started to recognize the presence of a miniature hand, spewing out from the base of my pen. Hallucination? I think not. For now. Although I can’t really be sure of anything. I guess that’s how these things go. Sudden contentment came over me, as I relaxed my body, separating my restless mind from the miracle about to come over me. Conspicuously sprawled out on my bed. I felt sudden excitement… euphoria

Three faces all looking in an opposite direction
One facing the future with aspiration.
One thriving in the past, fear of reliving the pain
And someone stuck in the middle , living the present in van
The wind blowing through our hair, the sun on our face
Our hearts beating to an inconstant pace
Whispering to the winds that we’ll be here a while,
None who have mastered faking a smile

I see it! I saw a pipe then a sombrero. Ah, damn!  Too bad there are no clouds. I don’t like the stars .They’re harder to make pictures with… unless you’re a dyke.

New note. At least we dig each other. She does cocaineeeee. So much weakness and so much balance. Is it unacceptable? My body temperature keeps changing, I don’t like it. Are you still high? I wouldn’t be seeing boxes in the sky if I wasn’t. She’s purging. For now I have the blanket to myself, but by writing this I am most definitely jeopardizing my well being. I can hear the dogs eating the throw up. I think she’s trying to tell me her body is breaking out of the spectrum. Am I going to sleep? No, but I should. Applying to jobs is fitting a mold. I am? My mind is filled with images of swing sets and it’s weird to think of your actions in terms of someone else’s point of view. That’s what she said, mothafucka. This house is a home. The silver coil extended the creamy sculpt of god’s face. He asked for me to embrace him. She never remembers. Or does she just try not to? I don’t think I can dance dance without a ba ba. I’m all for the sad room experience. This is a nation of motivation. My mind is switching objects. The melody is grabbing me and slamming my bare body across the wall. How do we confuse these emotions? I want to live the day everyone is illuminated. The world has no mercy. Everyone seems to want something out of everybody else… They’re all running around with pieces. The maps of nostalgia. I felt an intense pulse of emotion while I was shaking that bottle of mini conditioner. Almost as if I was on top of the wooooooorld. And I am. Sometimes. No remorse, and have Kat take care of the toilet paper. Oh, now I’m hearing voices. I’m sorry but there are some rules you can’t break. She pulled the plug on her heart and soul. I don’t know how it ended up like this, but we have to do this without proof.

Turn to face the audience

Whose judgment gives birth to your pride

ironic that the thing that would give something life would inevitably cause its death.

I can feel the tension.

 

I plant my accumulation of thoughts over the past few weeks in a circle, enclosing my quivering body. 
i was hoping I’d somehow absorb some brainpower–l osmosis to my mental properties,
perhaps.
                      Enlighten me.
I burst forward from my temporary coma to find 
myself some company.
               A smiling face.
My muse ends.
                              begins. 
          picks up somewhere else.
Long johns… that’s not a new concept.
   I put  my hand in the pocket indicating 
my male genitilia.
       My  hand is cold.
My leg is reluctant to accept its existence

 

The sculpted glass bleeds; the liquid seeping from the top, running down the delicately shaped ensemble it once was, before a young girl with a curiosity burning for something much larger slipped her hands into the cups, longing to feel their heartbeat. Threatening the territory of much more than the mere inches it has to fall before the liquid taints yet another object.

My universe is reduced to the window well that I find myself visiting time and time again. The atmosphere surrounds me like a protective shell, but has left me subject to my own judgment. I inhale the taste of death, swish it around in my mouth, and blow it into the face of the very thing I owe my existence to. The rivaling smoke billows around me, kisses my face, flashing its beauty and impermanence right before my medium. I am illuminated in my destruction. The buzz fades in, granting me the ignorance I paid for.