*Two and One exchange glances* One: Ok. Sell us an eightball.
Teach: Alright. I got that right here. Give me the money *one takes out some money and Teach looks in the wallet* You got a lot of money in there, huh?
One:Yeah.
Teach: You should be more like me. I don’t carry any money. Just a little drugs. But, look. Before I sell you this, I have to tell you- I'm wanted for murder.
Two: *Spazzing* Who'd you kill?!?!
Teach: I killed god, jesus, buddah, allah, krishna, and all the rest. It's just me and Satan now. The cops are gunna kill my girlfriend for being Canadian. Satan told me so. You gotta see. I'm in this pretty deep. I'm sure you'll understand that, if I don't take everything you have and lock you in this dumpster I'd be forfeiting all this progress I've made. I'm on serious ground, people. Give me your money. Get in the dumpster. There should be food in there if you get hungry. This place is a restaurant.
Whoever is biggest: I weigh *insert weight* pounds more than you. How are you planning on robbing and relocating me with moves you learned on the x-box?
Teach: Did you read the sign? *throws chop to neck*
Scene
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Women are cautious,/ Men aren't courageous/ Men are cowards,/ Women are dangerous/ I need advice............./ What do I do to them?/ What do they do to me?/ They all change me/ And I change them all/ Though, still, alone, like,/ Too many actors in love
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I know the womanly ways of the Rainbow/ How to respect you and to cherish you/ I know the ways of Taiji and Wuji/ For a better life, and to start anew/ We are equal and nothing else matters/ Our bodies operate on one wavelength/ The rest are all insane as mad hatters/ In our crystal unity is our strength/ Our unity is love and pure true love/ Forever I set out to destroy it and us/ With the same ill-will I am devoid of/ Now it is others who misplaced their trust/ In dreams you are lost, awake you are found/ Awake you are lost and in dreams still gone
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There are too many shadows when the rain won't stop/ And they whirl around me until I can't see you/ Choking on ocean puddles of brain scum I drop/ Toward an enlightened crimson veil to slip through/ 'Good love is hard to find,' fucker, so to hell with your tomb/ I'm inside your head, you filthy asscocksucker/ Now is the motherfucking time to remain calm/ Turn away, don't stay, drift into the hard liquor/ This is something I've never tried to say nicely/ Lover, we need to ditch this whole scene, it don't work/ We're not like them, well, you kind of are still, sadly/ But, your hesitation is now holding us back,/ United, in deceit declared, we will convert/ Divided, in scattered subterfuge, we divert
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You can't stop the teachings once you've begun/ I'm your artist, and you are my distress/ This is our time and you must be fearless/ It won't end with us until it is done/ No matter how the time trails get spun/ You're incomplete and I'm getting listless/ Swimming soft stillness, still seeking swiftness/ Out of the shadows and under the sun/ You are my mate and we know the better way/ Or, I know the way, and you will be shown/ We have to do something with our power/ Read through the months in the lost year essay/ You want to know what I know and have known/ I know it's my knowledge you devour
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I really miss my heart/ I miss when it was mine/ But/ My chest was torn apart/ At the behest of the divine/ My heart belongs to you/ To all of those who suffer-/ All-/ Like nothing to the Sioux/ May you be a little tougher/ Because I am not a drone/ Empty, hollow, nor alone/ So/ My absent heart, it scolds/ Stiff spirits of the controlled/ My empty statements/ Made to deaf ears/ Scream at you! I declare!/ And/ Pretend like you can hear/ We are all one person/ We are all one planet/ Soon/ Our health will worsen/ A rotting pomegranate
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I can feel the crosshairs/ On the back of my head/ The laser pierces my qi/ We were never free/ Not since society/ Began the killing spree/ And today I raped/ The rhyming dictionary/ I'm doing it right now/ About the death we endow/ And the murder we avow/ Our undying mindless allegiance/ Zombies who never knew the Tao/ The unthinkable occurrences/ Unimaginable disturbances/A kid with no perturbance/ Like life was too perfect/ Then began the onslaught/ Against towers of innocence/ That were built for naught/ They raised and bred pestilence/ The evil never got caught/ Manufacturing nightmare thoughts/ Warm and comfortable we slept/ While overseas imperialists crept/ Gathering uncounted souls they kept/ It's hard for me to ignore the karma/ When all we need is a little dharma/ So what's a lovely song?/ If not a long evil daydream/ If you can't escape the universe/ Where will you go?/ Do you know about the ecocide?/ Have you seen the accident outside?/ It's no wonder the the Chinese call us ghost men/ Do you know about Taiji?/ Life devolved from right to left/ Here we are obese and ill at ease/ Because if you were humanity/ What would you do about the US?
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Of Insomniacs and Disk Jockeys
The hour was dreadfully late when they returned to the parking lot to search for the lost jewelery. The sun kissed the sky and turned it deep purple. They returned to a hidden knoll where the grass was matted down. She could not find the aquamarine gem stones that matched her eyes. The radio dj's shirt was torn across the front and not hanging correctly, exposing her black bra.
The insomniac, a wirey mess, wearing all black, with a newly broken collar bone, held the red flashlight pointed toward the earth and the woman got down on her hands and knees, similar to earlier, and she searched frantically with her fingertips. The insomniac poked his head over the hill back to the bar. Only obnoxious ornamentation shined back at him. The streets were deserted.
There was too little freedom left in the world. So little room for free love in the checks and balances. They had to take what they wanted when they wanted it. Besides, what had they wanted but a little time alone? Intoxication and altercations of a spirited existence, he guessed. Reckless endangerment neither could anticipate. The perilous behavior of a wicked addiction to carnal escapades.
The insomniac had given her ecstasy earlier. Then he drove her to exctasy after. She'd injured him and it was at the hospital she noticed her jewelry was gone. So back at the bar she could feel the drugs’ effect rolling away and the sobriety catching up. Dehydration wreaking havoc. And where the fuck, was her god damned bracelet?
"I give up. Come on. Let's go," she said.
The insomniac limped, holding his arm close to himself. The searing pain screaming through his collarbone took his breath away with every step. They stayed close to the shadows and walked out to her running car at the back of the movie theater parking lot, got in, and left.
There weren't even cops out at that hour. Sunday mornings, everyone was home. Saturday; a distant memory only a couple hours in the past. She turned on the radio and her prerecorded show was still playing. She'd be taking over for herself, live, in about an hour. She lit a cigarette. Her listeners had even promised to quit with her. They all thought she was doing so great.
The insomniac drank vodka from a flask. The vapors gathered around his mouth and wafted through his nostrils. Cheap burning liquor seared down his throat and into his chest. She put her hand out asking. He glanced to her chest. Her eyes caught him and she smiled.
He handed her the flask and said, "You look good right now. Real good. But I'm hurt really bad. Really bad. These pain meds aren't doing a thing. And you have to go to work pretty soon."
She bit her lip, enjoying the warm air blowing in through the window. She fluttered her eyelashes a little and the car pulled into his driveway. "I have a half hour. I'm coming in. I'll make you feel real good, baby," she said.
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Surprised to have a moment/ To just write a poem/ An evanescent moment/ As a black shade/ Slips across the moon/ Inspired by the eclipse to write/ Never was one so documented/ I'm lost in the shades/ In a magical moment/ My insides feel vacant/ I a
m lost within myself/ Inside the emptiness/ Of the moonshine/ Gasping for breath/ And HAARP!?!/ Weather control?/ Mad scientists!/ An evil government..../ Do you see?/ Do you see how long/ my free time lasts?
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My Dearest,/ Will you watch the apocalypse with me?/ Will you be there when I fail to fend it off?/ You know my heart is broken/ You know my love is true/ I will save humanity/ And I will do it all for you/ I've had tears in my eyes/ Unable to cry/ Since the day you left my side/ There is nothing more enticing/ Then our heartbeats romancing/ I didn't mean it/ When I said I wouldn't die for you/ Give me a child/ I will give myself/ I know I can't be that guy/ With stability/ Who/ can be around your family/ But/ I've woven a magic carpet/ And it wants you to ride me/ I will end the new world murder/ To raise a child in peace and love/ A place where/ They'll be free to write poetry/ Just like me/ Can I do it without you?/ I don't want to find out/ No one else likes Dax/ The same way that you do/ Tears of without you/ Drip like Normy's drool/ I'm essentially asking you/ To be in my bed/ When the assassins arrive/ And whisper reassurance/ That it's only a delusion/ I'm committing suicide/ By alphabet and rhyme/ And too little stage time/ All of this is for comfort/ To get me through/ To the end of your absence/ Who else will save you/ from/ your sleepy cigarettes?/ My love./ My devotion./ My amour./ My lust./ My weakness./ My strength./ My Scorpio./ My wilted Rose.
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Get out of my head/ Get out! Get out! Get out!/ Get out of my head!/ I'll scream until I'm dead/ For me, obsession is love/ I'm not hung up/ Lovingly is how I torment/ Now get out of my head!/ Get out of the world!/ I curse you and our memories/ I curse the moments/ We spent/ that lead me to this/ Get out! Get out!/ A knife in my mind/ A sword in my side/ A razor in my mouth/ An axe in your face/ And neither one of us/ Will see the next place/ When I drag us through time/ To an everlasting moment/ Where you die/ Then I die/ Then you die/ Then I die/ Until our eyes become blind/ Then again we die/ Until our skin becomes boils/ Then again we die/ Until hands burn like brands/ Then we die again/ And I torture you/ The way that you've tortured me/ And we torture each other/ Because you're my lover/ And love is you/ So love is me/ Two people in pain/ Taking out our hate/ In the strangest ways/ Because without me you're healed/ And you attribute this to another/ Someone that could be anyone/ As long as they aren't who I am/ You don't care how much of me/ I gave you when I destroyed you/ That time when I needed you most/ Please get out of my head/ This love of ours is dread/ Without you/ I'm too far from dead
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The pain stops/ When the alcohol rain stops/ The blood stains blot/ As/ The alcohol fires burn
nonstop/ Alcohol phantoms/ Descend upon my home/ Coyotes and bats/ And Graves XXX/ Myself/ Dancing in fire/ Staring at the Woman I admire/ Wondering about Alcohol Vampires/ The vampire metaphor wears no disguise/ To give up the day for a darker way/ Never eat food again, trade for one drink/ Transcend intrinsic humanity/ A poisoned body and mind/ Changing for the worse/ While all the time/ The vampire writers/ Had wishful emotions/ To live forever/ And only get better/ The addicts/ They were given a Tiger/ We/ Have Tigers/ Addiction/ This is about addiction/ And the establishment/ Demands we keep our Tigers/ Locked away/ So typical/ I've been.../Letting my Tiger out to play/ Always wanted a Tiger anyway/ Though I wish he were free/ And so much further from me/ I've been bleeding again/ Out in the alcohol rain/ Digging in with no pain/ That spot/ Every cutter knows about/ Peace be with you, Amen/ I need to bleed, my friend/ Leave me now to dance in my fires/ To stare deeply at the Woman I admire/ Wondering about these Alcohol Vampires
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Cradle Slave drive to where You thrive/ Escape the rape at any other landscape/ Stay far away or else be led astray/ They died in the morning and they died for nothing/ Sick Man's Son burning your flag down/ That boy burns flags down one by one/ Sick Man's son is the revolution/ Some Writer raised Him right/ Some Writer taught Him to fight/ This Son's fight was birthright/ Right?/ The Son Rose over the sick world/ Born apart from the culture problems/ He would solve every one of them
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Three years into the relationship I finally understand why this girl's unique. Beyond my expectations hind sight truth sheds light./ I knew something about loss by the first time I fell in love. And I didn't know the first thing about love lost. Lost love changed me the same way it changed you./
So, I figured no way that could happen again. Meanwhile I was losing the second one. I didn't know the first thing about love gone. I left relationships like wreckage on the east and in the midwest./ I was looking for a loved one when the Mystic intervened. For a reason, love is forged by the power of the season. And met the one in the path of a rainstorm. Three years in and I never expected this./ I've mated for life because I'll only marry once./ The first time I expected we would never end. The second time I expected she couldn't leave again. And finally I expected nothing. Although, even now, I find myself expecting this won't end./ She's the one for having never been.
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The wisdom of a place beyond reach/ 'Intelligent' bird of vibrant red/ Want to hear about the president?/ What's going on in your beak faced head?/ Your wings colored by the sun and ocean/ The deep and the soft blue shallows/ Should you be eating these pistachios?/ Should I be feeding them to you?/ You wouldn't want to go outside/ If anyone were ever confined.../ I don't speak parrot eye contact/ Seagull is different, I speak that/ Do you get lonely at night?/ If you could have anything, what?/ Either obvious or mysterious/ Freedom or a frito or a female/ Why are people so different?/ How is it you came to be here?/ Cosmically close like an exhibit/ You're here to sell the other animals/ May your captivity not be in vein/ May you always be kept safe/Is there anyone loving you?/ You seen your dinosaur feet?/ If you get bored- watch finches/ Always keep your beak up/ Do you know any math?/ Seen any weird things lately?/ Well, it's time for me to go/ Sadly, I am far too stoned
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Permeate with The Spirit and Me/ Knowledge undesirable/ A trillion things/ You don't want to know/ (Most magic/ Has a heart of illusion)/ The most real unreal/ Is an air of delusion/ (Touch nothing and fear/ Feel nothing and cower)/ Touch it all and know/ Feel real to reveal/ A world so transparent/ A calamity of confusion/ Crawling through a quagmire/ Blessing Ourselves/ (May We live for desire/ Or parish in the unforgiving quagmire)/ Suffocate on Someone's malcontent/ Alone, disconnected- dissonant/ Separate from nothing/ Observant of obscurity/ Drown. Suffocate/ Snuff out My depravity/ Or cultivate/ A very real disreality/ Behind My ego/ Not yours/ Apart from rationale/ The encompassing abstract/ Seclusion and understanding/ Enthusiasm and obstinacy/ Unaware of nothing/ Apathetic toward whatever/ (Emotions of the Unreal/ Forgotten knowledge raw deal)/ Reaching for the silent knowledge/ Horror and happiness/ Never began to exist/ An illusion/ An interpretation/ Created by Me/ Compromising Your integrity/ (But don't worry/ You will never believe/ What you will never see)/ For it matters not/ If I breed/ Or breathe/ Or bleed/ We will forever be/ Permeating with The Spirit/ (May We live for desire/ Or parish in the unforgiving quagmire)
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What sucker are you talking to?/ My safe pleasant trip is up to you/ This broken chair has no seat belt/ My safe pleasant trip/ Depends on if I bounce/ I understand, so it's cool/ This Bus Rider is no fool/ Still have my money/ Cuz the crook acted funny/ You don't know what I don't need/ Cuz Me and Castaneda/ Are waiting for my death/ On a safe and pleasant trip/ Emerging from a tunnel/ On roads slick and wet/ Another Witching Hour/ Spent waiting for My death/ You can bury Me/ In Iowa City/ But My heart's beat.../ Belongs to Pennsylvania/ We can’t escape our parent’s influence
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Who or what has been haunting you since you were little?/ What situations come upon you and beat on you at their will?/ What happens when those two get together?/ As they so often do/ I had an encounter with my beast of
burden today/ It was ugly and uncalled for; an empty victory for nobody/ I stood my ground and found myself walking/ I became free if only for the next few miles/ I will be cold, but not very/ The sun is glinting off the snowy fields/ The few homes feel so far away/ People are trapped in a blasting sun, snowed in/ I'm alone, but not alone enough/ A car drives by/ This place looks as though it should be deserted/ Overgrown barbed wire and snow/ I'm dehydrated. I'd been working the snow/ I need to eat snow for the water/ It's completely delicious/ Soon, I'll be on a state forest dirt road/ I'm taking the back way/ The walk will last a little longer/ But the silence,/ The silence will be worth three of these trips/ Turning around this corner, going deeper/ There's a strange pine forest/ An unhinged christmas tree farm/ As if those places were sane to begin with/ The pine trees are surreal/ They capture- the Pale Mystic/ And they make it viewable/ The security of the energy of pine/ Is palpable over there/ Across a brief snowy way/ Behind a stone wall/ The New Endland stone walls/ The Pale Mystic is Wonder/ I didn't actually expect any Wonder/ More and more I am drawn/ Back to the Mother/ Always sharing Her with the others/ I've come to appreciate the alone time with Her/ The woods in the winter, Aquarian tyranny/ Oh no. Has anyone considered that yet?/ Aquarians are heinous/ The age of Aquarius could be a mindfuck/ Whatever. My problem has to do with a Taurus/ And a place called home/ And the woods/ I see the Mother of an Old Friend/ Pushing a snowblower along her lengthy driveway/ It's a bigger house set back into the woods some/ We don't wave. But I glimpse Her/ Blowing snow into the wind/ Engulfed in a blizzard for one/ That's what I walked away from/ Nobody says that which matters most to them/ Without first considering the outcome of their decision/ The turn for the state forest is here now/ And this purity lay before me/ Like a high; nothing will matter for the next hour/ Being watched by the government/ Has about a 50/50 shot/ Of being good for my career/ Bad for my life force/ They are in my music when I type/ They're in my e-mail/ Commenting on me in the commercials/ Or there are intense coincidences/ The Pale Mystic is me/ I see a truck approaching/ This part of the road gets used/ Not much, but apparently some/ I am concerned with the trickling creak/ Running along the road/ I don't want my foot in that/ The walking is slick/ The truck gets closer/ Old People, looks like/ I only expect to get blown away/ By hicks like in the movies/ And when I was younger/ They pass on by/ Soon they are behind me/ I trip looking back at the couple/ And then get back up/ I've had my wool hat on/ And my gloves made by sweat shop kids/ And The Eskimo/ The Eskimo is a sweater so warm/ It has a name/ Black and grey, wool, I think,/ Over some thermal padding,/ With a fleece lining/ The Eskimo is spectacular/ A phenomenon!/ A gift from Long Lost Damaged Love/ Walking along the way my feet slip and slide/ I can skate but I don't believe that conserves energy/ Snow falls gently from the branches around me/ Deep woods, I'm looking for The Spirit/ I pass the road that produces traffic and go deeper/ All around me something so fleeting/ Wonder. Wonder is the essence/ This is why children are tuned in/ All the Kids do is Wonder/ Sadly, all I can do is Wonder/ There is the horse camp ground/ Lost Silvermine/ The first place I nailed my girl/ Me and Friends would camp there/ All the time, but it is prohibited/ Only People With Horses can camp there/ Those people were the same way about dirtbikes/ On these same roads/ Much younger, when I rode around they were rude/ Made Us walk the bike back, all the way/ But We hopped on at the state forest/ I'm cutting 60 degrees of walking away/ Shortcut, to the left, keep the sun at My brow/ The terrain is wild but oddly secure underfoot/ My pants froze a while back/ I've got jammies underneath/ I have put my hat and gloves back on/ They sun has been setting/ The whole forest lit in subdued hues/ The sky afire on the horizon/ Burning tree tops sing in my heart/ I conduct an orchestra that never was/ Heading down this forested hill/ Prickers grip my heal and I Wonder/ Could I screw up something so simple?/ Is this being lost?/ Not possible/ The road is beyond the high ground/ I come upon the way, basically trouncing/ Behind me is the closed gate/ Keeping traffic out of here in the winter/ Fallen sticks spice up the undisturbed snow/ Perfection. Only me, no one else/ And My internal dialogue is silenced/ There is no more chattering monkey/ He is silenced now/ I've been walking here a while/ My tracks are that of a Drunkard/ And I am sober/ I've got a head full of Wonder/ Almost at my house/ Down in the gully there my property begins/ I'll sneak along some Horse trails/ Later I will finish telling of The Walk/ And it will be my duty to mention:/ This happened in two different ways/ As it happened/ I knew of no Pale Mystic presence/ Only a perplexing sense of Wonder/ As it happened/ In the writing, I know of The Pale Mystic/ I can recall the essence of the Wonder/ And I Wonder no more
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Dear Reader,
Jail is a lot like summer camp. Except, we aren't allowed outside, and if we were we would not go because it is the dead of winter in the upper midwest.
The jailers gave us matching uniforms, just like at summer camp. We are all wearing horizontal, thick, black and white pinstripes. They are so comfy. Sometimes, when we're all gathered in the common area, it feels like a big gay slumber party. I mostly write in my journal, mostly.
My journal is a veritable mish mash of bureaucratic mish mash pish posh nonsense waste paper folded into itself. Recently, the quintessential drug freak recurring self defense killer handed me a pad of off white colored paper. Like dark egg shells color.
It's not hostile in here like the media often portrays it to be. Unless you consider boredom as a form of violence. Which I do. And from that perspective this is akin to trench warfare. Every day is Custer's last stand for a Little White Boy in a big Sioux penitentiary. No. That's a joke, it ain't like that. A blunt observation and sweeping generalization about the Natives is about to be made.
The Natives resent our piss and fecal matter. Everything about the white man gets under their skin; we live under their skin like a staff infection from hell. And for this fact alone, the native people of the world, torn asunder by genocide, will always have my respect. Anyway, I've enjoyed my interactions with Natives for a similar reason; they don't want to talk to me. They tolerate talking to me, suffer to talk to me, and I walk away with an enriched life having encountered people of that blood.
In here, they don't bother me. People leave me alone just by my scorpion tattoo. My eyes are a whole different issue. They do so many things, and one ability is keeping people away from me. My eyes distance everybody from me.
Man, I miss a woman's touch in this place. These men are terrible scenery. Actually, there are some girls hanging round this other cellblock outside the big chicken wire windows. They're gross women type prisoners, to be exact. Across the guard quarters in another block behind some big windows. Almost like beyond a creepy swamp and a meadow, like at camp.
I can't sleep well here. Even though I have my own cell- for the time being- there is nothing cozy about this place. Except maybe the jammies. I got one shirt and one pair of pants and I'm riding this thing out. I'm about to stop eating again. At night it is cold and my one blanket is small and ineffective. The lump of cushion at the head of the sleeping mat is my pillow. It sucks and I struggle to manipulate the towel into a pillow. I guess I haven't been honest with this letter.
I'm writing because I am scared. It never gets dark here. The light dims for about 6 hours a night. Not by much though. I am not afraid of any inmate, or the ghost haunting the doorway (it's a shadow- but a hardcore spooky shadow). It's my dreams that're getting to me. Nightmares, really. I hardly usually dream, and there is a good reason. My body knows it can't handle the effects of my mind jolting through dreaming, so on the outside, I don't dream because I am highly sexually active and highly intoxicated. Did you catch that twist? I am not sexually active- nor intoxicated- in this place, so I dream painful visions.
One day, I got my lover fucking my best friend, and the next day she'll be fucking some stranger and I need to track him using only his initials with the help of that same good friend. Or maybe I'll fall into some dirty needles, get them good and deep in m
y throat. Can't imagine how many people have had that dream. One early morning, I had a 35 minute phone conversation with my Lover about our relationship; Her voice, Me, and a phone; nothing else. I couldn't believe it wasn't real until I awoke. The greatest sex dream ever can only be told as a joke:
I fall asleep in an instant and bang! It's the 1950's. Everything is black and white, like a movie, or like jail clothes. I'm taking this Stunning Italian Dancer on a date, maybe back to a reefer party. Who knows? We sneak away from the crowd into a room like an Escher covered in Picasso's; black and white. We find a Short Blond in a Little Black Dress waiting for Us. My Dream Vixen of eternal love. I was in a situation, because They Both needed to be sexed up. They were crawling all over Me and I went to work on the Italian, promising my Vixen undivided attention after I fulfilled my obligation as a good date. There was some exquisite feminine sexuality happening in this dream. This was grade A dream sex. But when I penetrated the Dancer, it took Me about four thrusts to realize something was wrong with the vagina I was fucking. The vagina was a bed. I was in jail and humping the mat. And at this stage of jail I was in an open facility with about 130 bunks in one long room. And it took Me a quick minute to stop humping. I was in denial for a little bit thereafter. If I had known it was a dream I would have dropped the Italian for the Vixen, to get those first few thrusts in with Her instead. Maybe, next time. I need to get back to this letter.
I've got this sexual tension built up in me, but I'm not comfortable with releasing it in this place. I don't understand why. I wouldn't be the first Guy wiping semen on prison walls. I would just rather not perform that deed in such close proximity to so many Men.
Could be nicotine cravings winding up my dreams, too. When I am awake I experience nic fits as anxiety over my Lover's fidelity. Dreaming is about the same, but the intensity is cranked up and amplified by about an infinite figure.
I don't like the smell in here. People in this place, in general, smell awful. They walk around in circles farting poisonous gasses. And who am I to be the fart nazi? Some people don't bathe enough. Body odor seems to match the identity and ethnicity of its manly source. Also there is the shit smell. The smell of shit wafts around this place like it's just another one of the Guys. Which relates to the food.
They give small portions of very low quality food. The carrots taste like water. No. Everything tastes like water. And the meals never satisfy. Quite the opposite, meals only seem to increase hunger pain. I simply skip meals to counter act this. I can easily train myself to hunger less and thus hurt less.
Well. I've written about jail in the past. I think I've made my current point. Whatever it was. Oddly enough, I think my point was: I want to have sex with my woman. It's almost dinner and I am starved. Hopefully you aren't reading this in anything similar to what I am going through. And if you are, I got nothing to say to you. You understand.
Sincerely, Roze
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Inverted and twisted society of mine. How sad? Smiling is mandatory. From day to day the inability to smile on demand is crippling like shaking hands with no fingers. Smiling is a privilege, not a right. Tell me, or show me, what there is to smile about and you will know I agree by degree of hilarity. What you don't appreciate is that I'm coming out of the cold, unemployed and dirty. You don't know anything about my skills by a missing smile. Get bent.
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In the Sioux Falls county jail/ In cell G-250/ There lurks a spirit so frail/ It identified with me/ Many nights alone I read/ Where from the corner of my eye/ The undead watched me there on my bed/ I'd look. He'd vanish. I tell no lie/ Was he destroyed by a C.O?/ Was he snuffed out by a cell mate?/ The answer I will never know/ Yet, I'm concerned with another fate/ A dust bunny like a rat/ Made of hair and lint and skin/ Rolled to the door and sat/ Whenever the spirit was in/ The bunny lived in an opposite corner/ But would roll hurriedly across the room/ Whenever the ghost visited this burglar/
And then roll back when it ceased to loom/ The jailers soon changed my cell/ So I saw the shadows never more/ But I wonder, if back in that hell/ The bunny still visits the door
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We choose what to pass along/ A wasteland done wrong/ Or/ A paradise revived/ Out of the darkness into the dawn/ Out of the darkness/ We know we are one/ Out of the darkness/ Into the light/ Where we all belong/ The overlord is failing. Babylon is weak/ In peace. In love. In harmony. Below and above/ A part. One. Here. Then gone.
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Like a strangers attention to a blade I've been drawn to this piece.
Maybe I should give it up to KMFDM or MDFMK playing on the radio.
Or maybe I'm feeling a little edgy, cuz maybe Connecticut is getting to me.
Winter Wasteland makes me reconsider the cycle of warm wet winters past.
Been eating more than usual because my appetite is an aftermath.
Been jumping through hoops out in the blistering winter of dooom.
I'm getting married. Trading it all in for the path of least resistance.
Out of two equally feasible options, always choose the simplest one.
Sorry Mistress Lockeheart. It was never simple with you and me.
No budget horror film project is an event I am apprehensive about.
Our motto: We understand if you do not want to get involved with this.
I will never, ever, be a musician, they all do it so much better than me.
Sort of.
Might have knocked up my fiancé; that would be insanity if I did.
That kid would lead a hell of a life. What if something happened to him?
Still shook from trans-america jail excursion; a major inconvenience.
Engaged to be wed and who the fuck ever said I wanted to be that?
Regret comes bitterly when it comes immediately; I'm not 25 yet.
Perhaps I will name my daughter Lust, in honor of my fallen freedom.
Confined in so many ways to the plot of land where my life began.
People roll 'R's because they are difficult to say otherwise.
I've even shirked my agoraphobia. Or at least I figured out the trick.
Red. Wearing red is my agoraphobia cure. And it works in many ways:
1. Red illuminates the negativity around you, ill will is reflective.
2. Red invigorates the opposite sex, a more beautiful reflection.
3. Red advises those around you to behave in a way becoming of themselves.
4. Red radiates an ire for society, my schizoid spirit glaring with disdain.
There is a reason roses are red and not black.
Clothes are just clothes. No one will be aware of the subtle manipulation.
The real problem I have now is a lack of red shirts. One just says 666.
So I can only be being out there when these couple shirts are clean.
Claws, fear, disease.
Orca, ice, mist.
I finally figured out 'who' the Pale Mystic is?
The Pale Mystic is not a 'who'. The Pale Mystic is Yah.
The Pale Mystic is the spirit.
The Pale Mystic is our beloved animalistic essence in the air.
Inside of you like breath and part of you like fingerprints.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Looking around at nothing but ugly/ Until I close my traumatized eyes/ Then there is only Beauty/ Thinking of you carries me to tomorrow/ You are on my mind at all times/ On my locked down, all night, mind/ Inside my mind's eye all is alright/ In my arms I'm holding you tight/ I swear my life in here is alright/ You're here with me, I can feel you/ You're here with me, I love you/ You're here with me, I kiss you/ I caress you and make love to you/ Locked down all night I swear it's alright/ In my mind's eye I am holding you tight/ You're going. I love you