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20071109

-will somebody please turn off the faucet?
the windows won't shut; i think that i am drowning.
no ground to stand. no room to breathe. no air. no air. no air.
take the change from my pockets, turn and walk away. away. away. away.!
-call this modern. call this a cold world. i don't care what it is you name it.
i will still bleed. i will still leave. perforated lines tracing my wandering.
this is no joke. this is no toast. there's no salutable excuse for this drinking.
for i belive it is agreed, if it hurts, that's just one more reason to keep on faking.
come. and follow me. come. and follow me.
-DO NOT CROSS do not break this red tape.
still you must enter. but be not brave.
-Be Afraid of the rooms you must enter.
..all the things you could have done.
Be Angry with every second that you've spent aging.
it all just leads to more time wasted.
-Remember the days we spent covered in acid,
fighting to prove ourselves to the entire family?
then piece by piece, the dirt was lifted
to reveal two dried out corpses, that were not themselves.
-just the remians of a dream,
sleeping deep inside forests
hidden by thousands of rows of trees
populated by us, the selfless, baptised and innocent...
..living your dreams always ends too quickly.
(0) comments

20070510

2 months ago:

stuck inside instability,
marching a broken path.
accept there's no way out
and it won't help to ask.
you've got to learn this on your own
but when you finally come to comprehend,
please understand,
the rules of the game grow more complicated.
and there's no one to write them down.

break down the heartache.
build your own tragedy.

so do the numbers, build yourself a home.
find a wife and leave her all alone.
she'll make you dinner and wash your filthy clothes.
and drown her sister with sobs on the telephone.
trap her with lost looks and dresses.
let her build herself these broken ledges
to stand upon all afternoon
neglect sinched tight like a noose.
all it takes is one slight of foot.
will she jump or will you push?
regardless, a real man would follow.

break down the heartache.
build your own tragedy.
(2) comments

20070130

we live life like jealousy. 

how did you ever come to expect this
all to turn out so swell?
Oh, did you ever develop a conscience?
or just another point to sell?
(yeah, we grew up. ..at such an early age.)

It's from the pits inside this hard sale
that I know you'll watch.
And here I come, crash and flail.
to you, just another cost.
as you walk away, laugh it off;
I guess it's time to start my will.
now you've flooded the whole damned market.
and now everything is going to hell.
(yeah, we grew up at such an early age, at such repulsive rates!)

Well now, here it has started snowing;
the flakes, they take their epic drop.
And as I run to catch them upon my tongue,
all dignity is lost.
(to the flames of our youth, who here soon,
be squelched and grow into something so awful!)


But never before had I felt so pure;
so indiscrete, so young.
In complete deviance; a reality's
given, oh so oblivious to god!
(she cried, "you can never be too oblivious! now just go ahead
and forget that path down which you have come.")


And these days, destroying something so infinite
is defined as the past-time of some age
when we all stood so naive and arrogant,
trusting life held no thing we could not achieve.
(we were all so pure. so, so... so strong.)
["the past! but what has passed cannot be taken back!"]

But lately, we've been keeping quite busy,
just trying to destroy all the pressure
as it's caving-in on all four sides
behind the corpses of these innocent lives.
(lost in the molds, all choked on these lies.
all choked by these lies, with no violence spared.)


"And at first I thought we were like brothers,
but by the end he had taught me, we all have our own struggle."


And we leave their bodies unburied,
stripped and beaten for each eye to see.
For here, innocence gains but broken jaws
under the weeping gaze of maturity.

(we live life like jealousy...)
(1) comments

20061220

Epic 

the U.K. wakes up and stretches; its feathers unfurl.
calls immediate attention to the tips of its coils.
they explode and they crawl into so many pools.
the chromosones spread, and leak across the whole world.
("she will die with her dues, to this world, 'an unjust.'")

a ghost pirouettes, dives and it digs,
through all of these servile connections,
just so helpless..
his flawless conscience is lost in search of the 'golden id.'
an accordian design, seemingly by
a catalyst through which he still recalls...
a dream we both once had,
to shatter it all
(until there were only roses).

all lust, all hope, all self-respect.
she wants to make real, those gods i rejected. (in the form of old dreams...)
and i'm sad now to be upon these broken knees (...so disrespected.)
where every nerve-ending will refuse to scream
of some blissful end in eternity.
and the silence stood too bold to scream.
within a dismantled insanity,
the silence stands too bold to scream,
"does not this black-hole grant me any mercy?"

the sunrise showed face and we awoke
inside some late-morning sunday.
by now, i've picked them up, tried them on,
the garments of this martyred evening.
i was looking deeply in the mirror.
but it was done by sun's setting.
of course, i was first to blink
and it's time now that i accept it.

you disappear passed door inside door
(or at least some figment within my head).

we ignore the truth. commence pursuit,
i'm stumbling somewhere far behind.
you escape all loss, evading the law.
i'm here just in time to rewind,
the plotting of, my most epic fall,
into the black; towards the sweetest bed.
to somewhere unattached where misery cannot call.
but it's all belonging to some blissful end.

in a room she disguised and left forgotten in the hall,
these planes disintegrate, frame by frame, lost.
and this game always seems to get in the way
of something more meaningless.
but today, it all dissolves.

we are, dying roses become a funeral's confetti.
(1) comments

20051107

The Playground 9/27/2005 

We crawled along rusted piping and caved-in roofs. just making excuses to kill time. to stay here. where we thought we belonged. After climbing a broken ladder, we rested on the highest point we could find. there were rays of light, shooting out from just beyond the horizon, scraping the downtown buildings. I visualized a little toy town from our view. It looked so fake. so... breakable. But as the light disappeared, the buildings faded into the landscape in a way that made them seem already broken. burnt and snapped close to the roots. as though there was once something much bigger there and they were just the remnants of what was.
We talked for a long time. in between the lengthy comfortable silences, secrets were shared and points made that seemed to prove the existence of something higher. but still, we were alone on this rooftop. and the only thing keeping us warm was this solitude. We both stared off into the distance as streetlights shot out in every direction. straight lines for what could've been miles. but what did we know? They could just be painted up on some wall ten feet in front of our faces. We didn't notice and we wouldn’t have cared anyway. I didn't care. I was too enveloped in my thoughts. what happens from here? is there anything left to prove?
There was nothing left to fight but a faint resistance. a resistance empowered by a few thousand miles, lined with trees and mountaintops that we couldn't see over from our perch here. But that was of no consequence right now. we were right here. next to each other. staring at the wall with streetlights painted on it.
But now I’ve figured out that this wall was our future. Those buildings too.

She is that wall and we are those buildings. simply shards. sitting. waiting. for someone to come along and sweep us up or to stomp us down and smooth us out once the lights have gone out. Since this revelation, I haven’t returned to our perch. The roof remains abandoned as it always should have been.

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20051010

running draft for opening of "Insomniac: A Fictional Method."


she's walking up with her light in my face. it's bright and burning my eyes, but i know better than to squint. method-acting.

(insert: first showcase- young. unshaven. unkempt hair. black rain-coat. a hat trying to cover his eyes. and a dirty shirt that he's probably been wearing for days. smoke bellowing out of his hand. trash brings trash brings filth and decay. i operate like a gallon of bleach. my duty is to clean.
to protect and serve.)
(as i process: she misunderstands us already. has she not seen the new glamorous? prompter fill her in over the television monitor.)

i wasn't just a passenger. but she didn't seem to care.
1: so why are you acting so nervous?
2: "because i'm afraid of having your gun pointed in my face."
1: and where are you going?
2: "just trying to get back to my place."
1: well it seems you're a little bit lost.
2: "not really. you were just in our way."

(insert: uneasy deliberate pause. this is when the light intensifies. but you have to keep your eyes wide open. but your pupils will tell her if this goes on too long. and the cigarette smoke is burning something awful. the whites are growing into reds. but you just keep the burning filter stuck neatly between your fingers. she points that light into your crotch. onto the floor. there's nothing. at your bag. a pause is inserted into the pause. . . .)
she walks away. with the basic information that leads to identity-theft. or tracing. and here's a chance to breathe. but i didn't take it. i refused to take it. the rush of blood from my head back out to the rest of my body was a euphoria i haven't felt in a long time. i can't even remember if this is real.
protector of the people. giving them heart-attacks so they don't have to deal with the remainder of their time here.

(insert real-time thought process: this is never a good time to snap-back. but really, she was in our way. but thats not of importance. she has a gun. i'm terrified of guns. i could run. there's the woods. but she knows my name. she knows me. she might shoot me. should could shoot me in the back. mental. control. just take a breathe, you're good. just don't let her get inside of you. don't let her fucking shoot you.)
she comes back with the light leading the way. it looks at me then moves to the driver.
1:"... this car matches the car that was used in a robbery tonight. an old buick... blue... some dents over here... on the driver's side."

(insert: push off the heart-attack. i haven't slept in days and i'm tired. i didn't rob a bank. don't shoot me and fucking let us go. you exist to p-r-o-t-e-c-t me. don't shoot me. what the fuck is going on? did i rob a bank last night? no. so don't fucking shoot me.)
an uneasiness creeps through the car amongst the clearings of throats, half-hearted chuckles, and uncomfortable squirmings, because, to be honest, no one is this car robbed a bank. the lights sprays out over my face.

fuck. i squinted. open your eyes. keep them wide. but not too wide. i try to see her face, but there's no real reason to even bother. what the fuck? we didn't rob a bank. i doubt there was a robbery at all. we'r-- (cut!).
i almost forgot she was standing there. but the white of the light disappeared and she spoke:
"have a safe night," she's spits out with tinges of uncertainty and disappointment as she walks back to her car.
discourtesy as subtle as can be. she didn't want us to have a good night. just a safe one. but my safe has a different meaning than hers. she'll never begin to understand the meaning of safe to me.

(insert choir to self: you will never understand what safe is. and you will never understand the filth. -they make it a maze to keep it that way.- so. just. let. go.)
(0) comments

20050628

To Be An Emperor 

there's a door in this wall in the corner of your hall.
inside i'll find answers to questions never asked.
inside finds cryptic cancer that heals our quaking breath.
but still. the night. it heaves. a laugh to deem it jest.

yeah. we're all so inclusive; welcome to our dream.
believe you're in a nightmare. just don't get sucked up by the scene.
close your eyes quickly, deary, and feel the amphetamine.
it spawns creativity as it burns through our veins.

and egos grow exponentially. sucking embers from the flame.
we're chic. heroin. broken bodies really do grant us top hand
in this societal game.

but a few sharpened phrases,
sent forth through shallow hazes,
grab us by the ankles
and drag us down to their level,
speaking shattered faiths.

rape! rape! this is blood-shot rape!

now words leave us breaking. cracking. standing empty.
so non-directionally angry.
with nothing but a lonely realization:
we're all just the same.

(this is what happens when we, so arrogantly, lust for crowns of fame.)

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