Cranberry Bowls

Just drop it. Kitty kat staring at the feet of the V shaped vessels of harmony. Don't dissuade to see why we may not even like the hot stereos. Bit by bit I know that even within the growing towels that no one will ever love me. Professional use of karma may indeed load us with agreeable perversions of autonomous vestige. Like all deals, neither you nor I can pop out the cans because sound waves are ever effervescent. Vibrate like the toy you hide within the secret cave. I want it. You want it. So drop it. Drop it and sit down. Pink cubes float around all of us and yet you say you can't see it. Don't you smell the tinge of fiber within the books. Their spiral bound greatness intrigues only the mice. Squished tomatoes and socks with holes the mexicans can't triforce. Just say it's over. It's all over. Close that door and forget. Raise that glass and toss it on the stove. Beats push forward and flush the room of awesome craze.

randint(

a contrived coincidence catalyzed the uncovering of countless more

each candid kiss unveiling improbable serendipity

cautious optimism

15o11

But hark! Yet do I see not yonder forth a light?
It be-eth a last shimmering hope!
Just slightly out of grasp and slowly, ever so slowly falling away.
But I do not reach out.
I stare as it blinks. As it flickers. As it calls out to me.

All I do is stare.

That Is All

I can see only shades of grey.

Click to enlarge.

I'm not a ParasitE

It's just all symbiotic!
Just two separate entities
Living a lie

I Can't do much without you
You can all without me
But you still insist on being infected
and taking me along for the ride

I know I can survive on my own
just barely
You can do fine without my help

You could say we're commensal or maybe mutualistic
But we know we're FLUX

Suburbia Scene

FLMST 102 - Scene assignment #1 from SubUrbia(1996) - http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120238/

I feel this one. It's about having and losing. About people and what we let them do to us almost against our own will. Open, again and again but goddamn I knew your actions maybe before even you did. I almost want to laugh at the repetition, floundering pathetic and I wish it was not me. Not you.

I'm worried. Insecure. I hear myself say the memorized words and know they sound fake. I know that I'm fake. I want to succeed but to let your strange topography touch me deep is an invasion of privacy that I can't stand. The past lets me relate to this other person's fantasy but keeps me from letting you see that I know, I understand. Is that ironic?

"Six-fifty" becomes a plea for understanding "come with me" I LOVE YOU and "new ground" becomes everything I ever hated about you.

It's not really acting anymore, is it?

Intermission Breaks the Illusion

Wrapped in your insecurities I greet the morning with the friction of our flesh, pushing pulling dashed against my dreams. You never slept so poorly. I stood face upturned in your barrage of words you give so easily, and knew this storm could not last but I thought we could ignore the forecast a while longer. And now someone's sunny days have arrived and I find myself again voyeuristic, always leaving leaving never left.

I never dream anymore. Only play pretend with myself and others, your temporary cooperation is appreciated. Thank you, don't come again.

A revolving cast of distinct faces, my roots seep down through the cracks in the stage and I can't help but wonder out loud "Who today, and what tomorrow?"

Put pen to paper, everybody plays and are played.

Maybe I never should've put myself between five sons. Do you reap what you fuck?

""

I have nothing to say.
I have to say nothing.
I have, to say, nothing.

Mr. Fantastic Has Got Nothing On Me

If only we could find the real meaning of things.
Not everything is crystal clear.
It's a haze and the smoke shreds your retinas.
But we don't only rely on sight.
Try to hear out and reach out to touch what's in front of you.
Careful not to fall. Avoid the obstacles and walk away from the noise.
It's too bad you can't see.
Outside is just a reach away.

Far From It

And I always thought I was the fucked up one.
In a sense...I am.
But so are you. And you. And all the rest of us fuckers.
We all desperately wish to be the one at a disadvantage, even those who deny it. Where's the sense of pride of accomplishing everything and nothing in life if everything's been given to you?
There's a disease here. It's the human race. We must stop it.

h(t)urT

I am full of shit.
I have nothing but excuses to tell you.
Excuse me, I am a hypocrite.
Please try to understand. It's how we are all raised.
A dystopian utopia.
That's where we live. It's all a fucking illusion.
Don't look away.

That Is The Sum

I am a pleasure seeking whore
My future lies in pieces on the floor
I am the blind man who can see
I walk on wire surrounded by fog
My steps echo around the confines
of the room in which I am locked away
No doors or windows to let me out

Drug Fueled

Here's a great big fuck you to the world, eat this you piece of shit cuntbox. I am angry and I am finally ready to express it. I bounced the ball so high that it momentarily covered the sun and I wept at the beautiful sight, the fleeting relief, I'm undone by you. I promise not to hold on to the tail of this roaring mountain, it will pass me by and I will hesitate ever so precariously perched at the intersection of hate and morose wondering if I can step without earth quake. They built this cage around me with little white pills and I'm safely contained but angry angry pained, one replaced by another, what was the point of this exchange? I don't have much time and you're bleaching all the colors from the walls I want to beg but that's pathetic well maybe a little bit won't hurt too bad. Don't go don't go don't let me go I hate the weight of need that strikes me over and over again my head against the bricks thudding softly gently lovingly. It feels important, it feels like something big but I know in hindsight everything is diminished and I'll soon forget like everything everyone else have a good run sunny days I'll be waiting under the rain.

Dream.

There were insects living in my body. In the fleshy center of my right foot, nestled under the curved arch was a long white grasshopper, safe and warm in the hole it had dug for itself. A fat cockroach 3 inches long scuttled under my skin, making long graceful loops around my right foot and ankles, never staying in one place. A large prehistoric creature resembling a bothriolepis canadensis hugged my left knee cap, so perfectly married to my movement so that it was virtually undetectable. I wanted to crush them under my weight to cease the constant twitching but somebody informed me that that would release their eggs into my bloodstream and turn me into one cozy incubator for a whole batch of little invaders. I hobbled around, conducting everyday business, always aware, always afraid.

I had forgotten about my guest in my left leg until it forcefully propelled itself out of my body, exploded out of my tissues and scurried away in to a long hallway.

The cockroach grew bold and began to climb up my leg, heading for my crotch. When it made its way into the fleshy part of my thigh, I clutched a fistful of the fat, trapping the bug under stretched almost translucent skin. The membrane easily gave way under my fingernails, and I popped the bug out of my leg, leaving behind a red gaping wound. There was no pain. Only victory.

I decided to go to a doctor to get the grasshopper removed. I did not know how to reach into my foot and extract the bug without breaking parts of it off.

I think it's worth noting that I fell asleep to the dull thuds and scripted moans of my neighbors fucking.

I Need A Resistor

It strikes and it strikes hard.
Live wire and charge volted.
Stand there ungrounded.

A super-surge across your heart and through your eyes.
Snap the wires, flail!
Shock remember, catch them with your eyes.
How do you feel?

I'm sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen.
I sad high, thinking it'd never change.
But the storm came.
Oh, how it mixes.

How close are you to it?
Careful, I might bite again.

Do you think it's best to just let them stay like that?
Maybe it'll fix itself.
That's what I'm hoping for.

Let's See.

Let's talk about what you've done - this breach of the clean break between my solitary valley and your raging forest. I can't work any longer with this son on my back, beating my brow like the drug-fueled rhythm of my pen, scratching throughout the night, curling under my skin, echoing through my head until even the softest sign is amplified with the force of a lover's blow.

I'll take this unmediated approach to your scent and crush it between my palms until your juices run between my fingers and pool in the dips and crevices of the cold dark floor. It drifts in through through the windowsill, seeps into every surface until I'm faced with the fantasy, of you, everywhere I turn; especially in my dreams. Like a series of cascading notes you flow through, leaving moisture in the wake.

The quake subsides and I'm on the precipice of collapsing the deck, giving it away, letting it spoil. Words words words push against the razor edge of my teeth, buzz at the tip of my fingers, leak from the corner of my eye. Details cut against my defense - I'm reduced to a pile of powder waiting waiting waiting for... what?

Patrick Procrastinating

Pretentious proclamations pounced places predetermined
prattling pricks pondered presence
Proto-Merkabah pounded plates
priestly prophecies plotted pernicious precipitation
promises put plainly placate proletarians
plastics predate palladium
perennial pathways provide passage
partway plundered palaces plant
Panama's preeminent planetary pornography
pregnant polygamous pinhead
Patton planned peppering pawns
ploys penned partly pragmatically
presents pacify prenuptial paedophytes
paranoid pussies panic pall-bearing pissants
pangea's power
population's psychologies parabolically plummet
Penis.

-Patrick

Not My Apples

Brazen chill of fire wrestle life out of the lake.
The life of he is wandering in the loser of a heart burned in the sight of the forgetters.
Pick me up by the shoulders, Saints, before the wolves rush through the tunnels and define me.
Bleed the fire, Heat up the hearth with my heart.
Gouge my organs and solder my eyes shut.
Then I won't cry.

The whore will suck you dry.
You'll throw the last of your life towards him.
Regions of toxic abominations will fight their way into your mind.
You're poisoned now, dear.
Keep yourself clear.

He Just Might Be Into Me

So last night I went on a date. With a guy. That I met online.

I know what you're thinking. That's creepy. That's dangerous. He might have diseases. He might be psychotic. What's wrong with you? Can't you make friends like normal people? Do you have to resort to a dating website?

But the thing is, it was actually quite fun. We talked a lot before meeting in real life. He was nice. We went and saw He's Just Not That Into You and made fun of it. Then we came home and watched Man From Earth. We talked about deep things, shared pretty private information. He says what he means. He doesn't play games. We ended up making out pretty heavily on the couch.

Then he says that he's not easy. That he doesn't sleep with people on the first date. That I'm really cute. That he's only slept with three people in his life. That I smell good. That he's moving to San Francisco in April because he's gotten a job as a video game developer for a small company. That we'll definitely see each other again. We kiss in the light drizzling rain leaning up against his truck and he tells me I'm not that short but then I point out that I'm wearing heels.

So now I'm that girl. Waiting by the phone. Checking my email, facebook, text, IM. Waiting for him to call. Wondering if I should call him. Or text him. Or message him. Replaying the night over and over again in my head. Talking about it with my girlfriends. Wondering if I was a good kisser. Wondering when we'll hang again.

I'm not even all that into him. He's decent looking, decent at kissing, moderately interesting. But he's easy to hang out with and soft and new.

I also got totally stood up by this other guy who I have all these classes with and now I'm worrying about whether it'll be awkward on Tuesday and whether we should not sit next to each other anymore or not make too big a deal about it whether I should mention that I went on a date with another guy this weekend or whether that's too obviously flaunting my desirability. How could I have been so stupid, he didn't ask for my number I asked for his so obviously he wasn't interested, why did you think that he was?

So anyways. I haven't done any homework, I'm on anti-depressants even though I'm not depressed, and I'm hungry but too lazy to cook. It's cold, I have a shitty gas heater and my clingy ex-boyfriend won't stop iming me, messaging me, texting me every single fucking day.

I'm so sick of boys.