i think i’m still good at tests. maybe even really good. i crave mint-chocolate. i need to pack. i want an earlier flight. i am inflicted with insane heartburn. maybe i have an ulcer by now, maybe it’s indicative of invisible stress. what the fuck should i be stressed out about? at 4:30 the sun was shining brightly through the window and i was laying on the bed and being still, emptying out thoughts, with my headphones on and i sank through and fell asleep during stairway to heaven it said in the tree by the brook there’s a songbird who sings “sometimes all of our thoughts are mis-given” and it makes me wonder…

the vipers’ eyes, like a million little black pearls. with forked tongues they wet the iron of these places. the city shields itself in rust.

a collapse is reborn in the heaps, invisible and shaken. pleas echo and are absorbed into mud and concrete. its shadow detaches, swallowing as the body sinks.

faith claims venom. reflection claims the shadows of fallen deities. desire claims hope and the channels of circumstance are lost, locked in from the out sides.

red house painters is great, great, its just that it makes me want to slice up my wriststs.
-

so now i’ve got you to myself, again. the date is january twenty-first. the year is 2003. tonight i will face off with you. we decide on a path soon. i’ll wrestle you about this. there is no one else there is just you and me. we’re in this together.

you would like to make a difference. just like everyone. it’s nothing to be ashamed of. it’s just that it’s not going to happen. you’re such a dreamer. i feel bad for you, for real.

three years will be too much time with one situation. your geography and employment status should change soon. it doesn’t matter how fucking comfortable you’re feeling with all of it. life isn’t supposed to be comfy, unless you like to be stagnant, too.

if you can’t count on yourself to change when you should, i will be there to sabotage you.

you might be having an episode. i couldn’t be bothered to figure out for sure.

you shouldn’t be having the little bouts, you should be too loaded on prozac to see an edge.

you don’t get lonely. i don’t get lonely. don’t forget.

everything is so superficial.

the people who are constants in my life, do not know you. you are hard to know.

i will always be hard to know. i don’t care. you don’t care.

your own mother even only has a shred of an idea what kind of person you really are. you are hard to know. you don’t care.

you are always locked. you are always locked, locked up, you keep me locked up. you are in the dark you keep me in the dark you make me afraid of the whole world.

you were very young and you decided that you would be on your own and you were on your own from then on. you have kept me on my own.

you’re sure that the world would be better if there was a god. if there was magic. if there were things to believe in.

you say you will be there to shield the frightened glow.

you are a good boy. a good, honest man. honorable. i am selfish, pathetic, needy.

we are stuck together we should have been separate.

nothing’s pure and simple. everything’s polluted with ugliness and confusion. we grew up too fast. you grew us up too fast. i got old so quickly.

-
my god, i am so disappointed.

here, it is too warm. maybe seventy-five. i hate it.

it is too warm. it’s too much. it feels like a lonely summer, here. a loneliness of the kind that only summer can provide. it’s something like cabin fever, and so i’ll go for a drive, soon. i wonder how far away the bayous are.

i saw the weather for richmond and the high is supposed to be nineteen degrees, tomorrow. i’ll miss that. i am homesick again.

there’s too much spare time.

couhg cough cough…cough.

the dust and the light.

the hush.

the frightened glow. the tired orbit.

some things are going to change.

chase me out. scare me far away.

byebye sweet gazing amnesoid.

i don’t know. i think i’d like to take my name back off of the petition. maybe that means i got ignorant.

everyone either seems to swallow what’s thrown by the commander in chief. hook line and sinker. or they are completely inverse. completely and absolutely the opposite.

i think i am unsure. it seems like i’m the only one who’s constantly unsure. this happens with most things, most of the time.

there are wars because of money and there are wars because of pride and there are wars for all sorts of bad reasons. occassionally, maybe there is a fight that is a good fight. fighting a good fight.

lots of people are skeptical, don’t believe in good fights anymore. others just don’t know one when they see one, maybe. maybe i’m an asshole and there really is no such thing and never was.

i’d need more time to think about it.

and sometimes actions have plenty of bad and good reasons, all at the same time. and that makes it gray.

it’s difficult to have opinions on gray things.

no one seems to see the gray that i see, all the time.

i see all the gray, all of the time. but i get a bad sense that freedom will get so much more expensive in my lifetime. that people will pay harshly, beyond what they deserve. i sense suffering. more suffering.

but i’m not fiver. i know i’m not fiver.

maybe i’m just in a bad mood.

-

i finished one book. i got it awhile ago. it’s about a weak, pathetic frenchman. i didn’t like it. maybe it was too much like me.

the crippled crow in the dirt, to reclaim some spirit, some pride in the wastes, pools of poison, betrayal, pain, mud, negativeaffections, claiming the fuel from this shit, for one last scream ,

and sparks it’s body, engulfed in a rage of angry fire, vital from the piercing red eyes to the embers of a heart out to the wisps of flames for wings, rising from from the dirt, one hundred times what it was, burning down the world and the people who ruined it, fire and nothing else,

i think is what the character lacked.

but, i think that that will be the last reminder of what’s gone, for me.

-

no one seems as gray. it’s always this or that, yesyes or nono, here or there, way right or way left, all or nothing. i don’t think i can have opinions on things in general. there are individual situations, when you get specific. individual situations with special reasons and unique circumstances.

it’s all impossibly gray. everything.

-

its all right nobody’s proud of me, anyways.

i think i’m more sure of things, sometimes makes it really clear, reality’s sharp, kid so sharp.

i guess i like being male but maybe the part about being male i don’t like is the sexuality, maybe the biology and instincts about that, maybe i’m ashamed of that i think always have been, lust feels too much like desire is weakness, ruined ambition with pale quick empty benefits/goals, always felt too much like taking and being taken from too much selfish not much like giving, something i can simultaneously cherish and despise, tout and regret, passionately embarrassed, i think i’m ashamed for morethan my share and more than the kids who can hollow it out.

i don’t miss it much now, i like this better somehow and sometimes i think that i hope that i never will miss it, but i guess i also know, i mean i’m old enough now where i know that urges always win, in the end, even though they don’t end up mattering much.

i know, i feel vry small i don’t need to hear the popular opinion i just need to be by myself for awhle and maybe i’ll figure things out someday try to make up make things right for growing up crooked maybe i grew up all wrong.

-

i have to be locked into training scenarios in texas and i’ll go back to my cell, isolated i will read my books in all the spare time , to failsafe my poor head as it aches. pour places from pouring planes, pour homesick without a home that feels like a steady home, poor vagrant with his syllables failing at its feet, safe from the cold and ashen roadways, dirty in these wandering confines, clearing the thoughts webbed round the windows, saying, that’s where we’ll stare, someday i bet you’ll appreciate seeing the way when you find out how there’s light or there’s absence, simply-put, bare words on tattered notepads to say when you’ll be back there, again.

& would get to sleep, in from the cold.

bye,

{& let the tide
ever turns
tide to turning
hasnt washed my days
into sand and madness
silence and stones
,so the tide ever
turns, tide to turning
back
or forth}

sheeeeeiiiiiii.

fug tehas, meng!

so baby baby burns her blankets on a blue fire “i’m no baby anymore” she says she says she’s been haunted and i believe her as she stares at licks of flame when she lets the oxygen back in again & later when her fingers are tainted ash and heat-weak she lets me prop her up and celebrate the loss before my eyes glaze over we’re not so simple anymore and when she brings the secret to her lips i fold her and the stakes flutter the higher they go and when we taste defeat it’s sweat and flesh/////stop.

revolution’s just too much if it takes every day
& behind the corner store somewhere
she’s stopping up the flash
& she’s too bright to keep her hand stayed,
stained bright with love, when she was a child
but never since,
she’s stopping up the flash and
it starts to hum as she shoves it through
the heart of her independence.

i will. you too.