stiff

and i can see everything. everything and everyone is me at once.

and i feel nothing.

i've done so much dreaming in the past few nights, and the only thing i have to show is lofty ideas that overshadow my being. it's in the prospect of criminality and theft that i keep contacting you. be a criminal and keep in touch.

face in my hands, i'm left here. i'm left weeping for whatever it is that humanity has lost.

these transitional nights keep my throat dry and my head aching, but it's what i crave.

because when you long for the anguish and pain

you dig your own grave.

tipped

in this dark place i feel at home. i feel surrounded and cut off from everything that makes me uneasy. i feel able to extend my fingers and create shapes and patterns. colors and hues. i decide what's detrimental to the delayed thought process enveloping my actions and precautions. and i've decided it is.

i know what i am, but not how i was made. i don't know who manufactured me or who glued me together with enormous magnification lenses. i don't know how i fit in here or how i came to be here. but here i am. surrounded and living. i'm a ship in a bottle, and i'm stuck.

forever trapped, am i. and forever free, i am.

i'm fucking with light switches. living in the darkness and the light. making a life out of balance.

sickly.

i'm becoming fairly sick. my stomach is urging me to feed it, but i can't bring myself to lift my tired head from this lethal position. i came here on the crest of a wave and was slammed into the earth until my stomach was pink. pink with frustration and pink with hunger, my mind wandered elsewhere.

it wandered and wandered.

and i've arrived in the first person becoming sick again. not physically sick this time, but rather sick with myself. sick with others and sick with being ill. everything is in my hands and i just don't have the power to enable it.

when seeds dig under your tough layer of skin, breed and make socially acceptable homes. when they start to spread and preach manifest destiny. when they build railways, flying machines, automobiles, etc.

you can see them lying under your skin and you wonder what keeps you lying to yourself.

why won't they grow?

you can't allow anything to bloom, because you'll kill it.

go ahead. kill it.

91 east

Why would I throw my lifeless body into something that I've seen people die from? I find myself and others frequently convincing ourselves that we're a different story. It won't happen to us, because we aren't them. How foolish we can all be for that. Ragdolling down the countryside into what will surely be my end, my limbs flop and twist in undersirable contortions.


In my dreams, I wander. It's no different than what I do in my conscious state, but in my dreams I feel no shame. When I'm awake and answering questions I feel guilty that I don't know what I want. My dreams however leave me wandering down empty corridors. Aged pillars decaying and crumbling left and right as tiles crack under the weight of my indecision. Here it comes.

cringing.

i wasn't that star. i didn't explode. i still do laps around galaxies, but now they're not so close... they're farther away these days. watching the lives of others and their dreams falling all around them like dirty recycled los angeles rain drops. that water is thick like blood. blood that runs down steep palos verdes and beverly hills driveways into the gutters where we've all slept once or twice by now.

i want to know where you swim at night. what nebulas you frequent. which stars you love to watch explode. and most of all, what planets you want to destroy. i can help you decimate celestial beings. let me.

these songs that you've chosen for me are something deeper than i probably know. but my very thinking about that possibility leaves me wondering if they're meaningful at all or if they're simply melodic constructions held together by chicken scratched lyrics on loose leaf paper.

write me something scary.

write me something beautiful.

just don't stop writing me.

7x8

So I dig my toes into April
In an attempt to just hold on
While the waves of summer wash away
The sand castles we've been living on
We're left out in the open
Stranded here under the sun
Just to build those sand castles back up
Pack the dirt and fight, or is it run?

La da da da,
Just counting down the days
Twiddling my thumbs
And thinking about the ways,

It could have been.
It should have been.
It's done.

I'm so afraid of what's left
What sits here on my plate
These months I can't seem to stomach
These feelings I can't seem to shake.
I'm killing time for what it is
Exposed and baked under the sun
Coffee shops and long talks
I'm happy cause I'm alone.

recognition

this is what it means to taste misery. This deep copper that dyes my tongue a disgusting color. I can cleanse myself all I want but I know I'll always taste this metallic dissapointment. Sleeping without cotton swabs in my mouth is a terrible idea. There's nothing to soak up all the blood that pours in and down my esophagus.

I've never felt like we were equals, but now I know it for sure. It's so hard to accept that something I've clung to for years can be ripped away from my being like magic, with no trace. No remains. Only ruins are left in a wake that makes me feel like something less than human. Did I deserve this?