*Curtain Call* 09/08/2015

The problem with a person who writes is every new creation must top his or her last creation.
If you think about it too much it fucks with creativity.
I'm sitting here, man, at the very edge of everything I've experienced. I'm broken down. Eventually the table of life just tips. Too much weight. My major problem is the time clocks and gas meters ticking off time and cents. Fuck you. Fuck your measly system of sticks and carrots.
I've got a girl in mexico waiting on Visas for her and her two children's return. Me and her were inseperable for eight months. And I've not seen her in two weeks.
Part of me understands she's really here, in the states, but she's avoiding me because i became too obsessed.
Reality is smashed upon me. My uncle Randall, who has struggled with schizophrenia his whole life, and diabetes, is just a pale, staring mute being led around by my limping, cancer fighting, 80 year old grandfather. My brother, an intravenous heroin and Christal meth user, just went to prison for at least five years. My father, an alcoholic who once took so much of the Anabuse alcoholic drug that supposedly cures the " disease" , that he was paralyzed, walks around town drunk, picking fights with everyone. My other uncle can be seen blowing on his alcohol interlock device in his truck, a machine that prevents anyone who had beer on their breath from driving, or driving his other truck without the device.
The dead or dying. I've not even drank a beer or a joint in ten years. Granted, i spent ten years in prison. Been on parole two years. Just completed it.
Whatever.

The charade. When all i want to do is look into her eyes one last time. Feel her skin.
I'm just this insane prick. This 33 year old man that's destined to go batshit. Its my turn to accept the baton. To run my guts out. Fuck.
I'm going to the university of Utah for hepatitas treatments soon as I'm insuranceless and they need guinea pigs.
I don't know anymore. I wanted to help my lady get her papers. To get her children their papers. To be legal. To be citizens. Its what she wanted. She wanted to get our own place. Now I'm in this place alone. Waiting.
I'm this over cleaner. This over organizer. This person with three abodes i look after.
Its a fucking trip. The heart beateth no matter what.
What's real. What is the truth?
Everyone has their truth. Can i create my own truth or the truth of others? And isnt it all just tied into money. Money and truth. Truth in money.
You can buy truth. You can buy someone's time.
Bought people.
The purpose? Is there reason in this?
Am i this disfigured face, sexually spectrumed, anti social, institutionalized, crazy man for a reason?
We just want to be told we are sometimes. That we have purpose. Meaning. . .
What's expected of me after all that time in a solitary cell? I mean goddamn. You should see her. The beauty. I was the most unalone I've ever been. I'm caught up. Wantless and Waiting. Seeking more from something that's been gone for so long. On the edge of abyss knowing, just KNOWING, I'm the puppet of puppeteers with their own purposes. Slowly ingraining me with their meanings. Carefully skirting the sad possibility which is me.
The don't look at hims, snide under breaths. Hands over the mouth. Behind backs and behind the scenes. Just wanting a moments clarity to show me what I've suspected all along. That I'm just this experiment experiencing what I'm meant not what I've been dealt.
Dealing with this. The deepest which is only shallowness. The meaning which is meaninglessness. The voices of the voiceless become delusions of the disillusioned lumpen proletariat. The chain the only thing left to lose in this society of depressed lifeless. Welcome to our world. The specieless, emotionless wrecks. Where workings all we've got left and dyings shamefull.
Guilty of loving too much unto the death. Maybe the whole purpose right there. Love Death.

*Lolligaggin* 09/03/2015

The throbbing in your right abdomen persists. Its the sign of impending death. What to do... What to do... What to do.
Immobility eases it some. Its funny, i lauded myself for so long for my ability to keep a clear head and equanimity through anything. Now i feel like a drowning rag doll most of the time.
And the nightmares. The waking up suddenly after four hours sleep to full body cramps. Just want to lay here but i get hungry...
I go around. See people. People i knew. But... I guess people i KNOW (?) Why is everything in past tense now? Like i used to this. I used to that. Even as i do it i used to do it.
Found myself at the liqueur store the other day after my doctors appointment. But it didn't open till noon. It was 8am. I don't drink. I shouldn't really. I get crazy.
Vegas sounds real good.
I wish to remain clearheaded as possible through it all as its getting real crazy deep lately. Its like tasty. Life has become tasty. I'm savoring the tragedy around me. Its everywhere. Pain, sorrow, confusion. Yummy.
If you try to avoid it'll get below your skin. Not good. Savor, buddy. Taste, retch but do not swallow.
It's all a game basically feels like. Like, ya, there's purpose to it all somewhere but fuck if i know what it is. Its just like checkpoints are crossed and i acknowledge them with a tip of the hat and continue. Onward. Always forward into the mist.
I've did it. Everything set out finished. Done. Stick a fork in me.
Fingers itch knowing the grand finale is nigh.
The damn graveyard doesn't seem very comfortable though anymore. I used to go there after work when i used to walk. Now i figure to become missing but presumed sounds funner. To find some blue lake to be found in as skelaton. Poetry.
Everytime i end something completely something begins completely. Its why i enjoy startings and finale's.
Poems, relationships, steaks.
Shits getting wild in the Rockies motherfuckers. Better hold on.
Kisses.

* Never Mine Always Hers* 08/30/2015

It was like a whirlwind
Temptuous
And as i sit windless, alone
I miss the feel of the gales bloodily
Tearing away cruelessly at my skin

It was like in eight months
I forgot all about those ten years
Solitary and Alone
But now they're here again
Like sandpaper filled seashells stepped on
By bloody, windblown skin

Never once did she rub my back
The money i made was hers
She even left me on my birthday
Never mine but always her hurt
My concern

Total focus
Now I'm left with nothing except all I'd given up
You can't imagine it
The way her brown eyes conveyed mystery

Asian eyes on latina ass cheeks
Her toes and fingers those of Mayan princess
Hair cascaded down shoulders of an Aztec queen
Her walk the most preciously obscene
Jeans, black eye liner and nail polish

Beyond angelic speaking her new language
Driving her stickshift Tiida in anger
Walking through the door after work in tears
Up and down in constant emotion

I was crushed and beaten with her feelings
It was always too much and never enough
It was she's needy and I've nothing left
Wishing someone can handle her

Wanting to kill anyone who touches her
Touched her so much that now I'm dead
She's gone now a country away
And now I'm here again with my feet on the ground

And i don't like it i want it to stop
Just end please this feeling
Read meaning in these bloody footsteps
Of a man who flew because of a woman
For so long he forgot how to walk

*Shitty Fingers* 08/25/2015

Weight lifting and watering the lawn
Not working to enrich the man anymore
Set on using my wiles to gather others waste
Enough of everything floating around to subsist

Preparing for the worst by relaxing
Letting it happen while muscle builds
Bilking the government for pantry paycheck
Going to use my prison mental upset to get

Manipulate the system until system implodes
Until the land earthquakes into sea
Or falling rock rockets cometesque earthward
Collapsing the tunnelworks hidden like Mormon swearword

Not gonna do it anymore
Playing along with your consumption
The playacting of wanting blasted upon brainstems
With trivial knowledges driveled unto deathishness

Made up histories and make believe futures
So out of reach and out of touch
Beyond retching and explatory motherfucks
Like shitting the only truth we've left

On the comode with the one remaining truth
What goes in must go out
And what empires rise
Must be wiped from the face of the world

Skidmarked like cheap gravestones
Trailing like skelatons behind amerikkan flags
Flushed away like lower class families dads
Imprisoned in noncorrectional sewers

Making it another day in order to flush it
That's it
That's all I've got

*A Step Up* 08/14/2015

Occupational safety hazard
That is
Your life's killing you
Just waiting patiently for the grave
Silently wishing you outlive the others

A non contract signed with life
That so much effort must be set forth
For so much rest inbetween
Tit for Tat
Deathbedded amazed wondering
I did this for that

You know when you see unchanged
It changes you
Maybe thats why the unchanging never change
They can't see you

Why is it that death makes us live
That a funeral makes us feel better
Why do we wish graves
Upon those the closest to us
But pray long lives on strange celebrities

When non buisness becomes felonious
And non cooperation becomes terrorist
The act of not paying idolaterous
The establishment ravishing you into the perfect consumerist

Immersed in bullshit a constant
Damning yourself for playing along
Can't them sorry motherfuckers just get it over with
Die already you bastards

My future family seeks your soiled place mats
Lives full of future and meaning
Verses your smelly alcohol breaths
Full of pain and confusion

Let those who seek less consuming
Replace the consumed
Its the right of the evolved beings
The shoulders of the weak non doing

*Absence of Needing* 08/12/2015

So you think you can dance
Motherfucker
With the Demons enchanting
Solo thoughts in solitary cells

So you think this existence
Has meaning
Like clean shirts and shiny cars
Or is it all just made up
Make believe until we leave
Must to Dust

So she's the one
And he's finally come
And your new toys are perfect
Fit to fit just like it was meant
Sleeping good wrapped up in consumerist delusions

I say so you think you can die
This minute without regret
So you think you can live
Without regretting moments

To leave it all
On the doorstep of the banks
Take yourself to the woods
Rot your teeth as you feed your being

Being nothing
Planning nothing
Getting up
Chopping firewood
Chewing jerky
Falling asleep

Total disconnect from oil roads
The daily here to there
The worry of your smell
Or shinyness or dullness of hair

Giving up you might say
But its not
Its...
Like...
Just finally

Evolving up
To the trees and the dirt
To being a being
Without needing
That which isn't worth needing

Its...
Finally...

BREATHING

*Pretend* 07/31/2015

Temporary insanity pleaded
As you lie kneeding
Illusions of granduer
Of the utmost and lowest

Its happened many times before
This fucking hostage situation
This drainage of your being
Because of total focus on another

What do you do when your whole life
Feels orchestrated from the get
Like the paths you walk and decisions you make
Decided upon. Traps set. Some mathamatic kismet

Fucking shit
Sitting here after so much
My fucking struggle with everything
Plain as day its got me shook up

The givings up
The gotta gets
The need to this
The have to that

Fuck you
And everything

The overdraft credit cards
The gas tanks constant thirst
Bills and ultimatums

Urges urged upon
The dirt we tread forgotten
For the minutes of pop songs
Scratched on ears

I've been here before
Just yesterday we played this
Hiding and seeking meaning

I'll do this again
With the wind as my foe
And the sun as my friend

Peeking blinds
Bleeding inside
The only difference I'm sober this time

Dulled
By mountains surmounted

Darkened by the hopelessness surrounding
The eye smiles I've passed on countlessly
Infected by your sadness

Felled by your sickness of fear
In the coward populace
Of the mainstreams

Prying eyes