the pavement is awake. the rain hit the ground running. there's an idiot screaming that it's sunny while the world around is flooding . I've come to grips that i can't hold on, but my redemption is a song of freedom and the beat goes on. There's a war within a war. Bones crack like fire that whips through the desolate shore, extracting the poor in the culture of more.
We're all a little displaced. I just wish the sun would shine for those with a different shade on their face. I wish the grace of humanity would touch all the inhabitants of the lost marble in space. I wish sometimes that i could be a monster with demonstrative rage, so the rain wouldn't feel so alone on this plague.
I couldn't feel more alone if i were the dried grass beneath an unwritten tombstone. If our lives are a flicker, my heart is the ash. The dismal and omnipotent stench of our past is wafting toward our future, seeping through foundation cracks. I am now awake with the pavement, and there's a peace inside of me that accepts uncertainty. With peace I'll always be.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Thursday, December 10, 2015
Solitary Confinement.
society is solitary confinement. I was born of the human assignment, and i am happy to be on my land with just my thoughts and 3 plants. It's not that i'm reclusive. I'm just tired of a humanity that casts a pall over the inclusive. Where hope gets reduced by the intolerant and stupid. Please only paint me as a shadow though. I will disappoint you otherwise. I have an unconditional love for the world , but no legs to stand on against the stars in her eyes.
Your wisdom is a clouded pearl and there's death in the skies. My solitude an umbrella against the the down pour of hate and lies. It's not born of fear, it's just that I'm tired. My patience has withered, my pain has expired. I only know absence. A stone wall that wants to be a field. I wish i could be more. I wish i could feel. I wish i had control of the fire within. But it rages on without script, i am the peril of its whim. I am the shadow if its eclipse. I am the light when it is dim, as I document the journey with the maps on my skin. I want to be more. I wish that i could. But i'm alone in this world, as any sane mine should.
Your wisdom is a clouded pearl and there's death in the skies. My solitude an umbrella against the the down pour of hate and lies. It's not born of fear, it's just that I'm tired. My patience has withered, my pain has expired. I only know absence. A stone wall that wants to be a field. I wish i could be more. I wish i could feel. I wish i had control of the fire within. But it rages on without script, i am the peril of its whim. I am the shadow if its eclipse. I am the light when it is dim, as I document the journey with the maps on my skin. I want to be more. I wish that i could. But i'm alone in this world, as any sane mine should.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Auto Pilot Episode.
There's been no chaos. All is still. No movement on the pane. Just dust on the sill.
Too quiet for the liking. Too safe to live. He died by suicide while having 50 more years to kill.
Walking the earth behind walls, feeling nothing. Plexiglass soul stops the heart from erupting.
Denial. Excuses. Disrupting the muses. There's no light coming in, means there's no light going out.
More denial, as fading beacons flicker about.
The pilot's off. The window's sealed. The routine is laden throughout barren fields.
No episodes, so close to a sigh. Safe guarded emotions, just rerunning through blank eyes.
No need for disguise when you're living inside.
The bullets all missed. but so were the memories. everything going by as the clock moves steadily.
Hands heavily passing the face. Is there anybody home? is it worth it to be safe?
Time is still ticking, there's no bomb in the chest. Just a treasure neglected with plenty of beats left.
Flip the switch.
Too quiet for the liking. Too safe to live. He died by suicide while having 50 more years to kill.
Walking the earth behind walls, feeling nothing. Plexiglass soul stops the heart from erupting.
Denial. Excuses. Disrupting the muses. There's no light coming in, means there's no light going out.
More denial, as fading beacons flicker about.
The pilot's off. The window's sealed. The routine is laden throughout barren fields.
No episodes, so close to a sigh. Safe guarded emotions, just rerunning through blank eyes.
No need for disguise when you're living inside.
The bullets all missed. but so were the memories. everything going by as the clock moves steadily.
Hands heavily passing the face. Is there anybody home? is it worth it to be safe?
Time is still ticking, there's no bomb in the chest. Just a treasure neglected with plenty of beats left.
Flip the switch.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
The Horse's Dream.
Miller the Horse had a long day in the fields. Grazing and fucking. Non-stop. A retired racehorse, he was sold to stud. Helping to pump out million dollar race horses for the feather capped freaks in Kentucky. He liked his new life, but was definitely tired. He had an amazing stall. Equipped with mosquito nets, organic hay grown by farmers who didn't eat gluten, and the audio version of Jonathan Livingston Seagull narrated by Jeremy Irons to help him sleep steadily throughout the night.
As dusk settled so did Miller. Atop the softest bale of hay he rested his eyes and muscles, and let out a content snort before drifting away to the gentle annunciations of Jeremy Irons. At peace with his conscious state Miller was now free like the night. To wander the landscapes of the imagination through dimensions of suspended gravity and reality.
Miller found himself in a maze of caterpillars. At the exit was a 73 pound carrot in a wading pool filled with sugar cubes. Miller had to navigate the maze successfully before the caterpillars morphed into butterflies with giant nail guns. These blood thirsty Lepidoptera will make a soup with a horse's kidneys and serve it to him before he dies. They bore no soul and Miller knew it. He had to reach the end of the maze before it was too late. He trotted lightly, but the sound of snapping twigs under his hooves stirred the beasts in their cocoons. His strides were careful as to not further disturb their slumber. For once awakened they would turn Miller to glue and send just his eyes back to his family, stuck to a piece of brown construction paper.
Miller was nearing the half way point through the maze. An octopus on a stem stopped him and asked if he could open his lollipop. The wrapper was way too goddamn tight, but Miller's teeth could pierce through rhino flesh if you let em'. Miller obliged because he is a Christian horse and that is what they do. The loud tearing and rustling of the lollipop wrapper awoke and enraged the butterflies. Fluttering around Miller with nail guns cocked, the butterflies salivated and began to dive bomb Miller. He swatted them away as quickly as he could. Trying to be a barricade to protect his new octopus flower friend. Miller grew into a giant. Muscles protruding from muscles. Each nail from the guns inciting more rage in Miller. He wasn't going to fall victim. He wasn't going to bear the thought of his family opening up a parcel with his eyes glued to a piece of brown construction paper. He grew even more massive and began slaughtering the butterflies by the thousands. Winged corpses strewn across the last stretch of maze when the universe shook. Trees and brush were uprooted as the grounds opened up to a 7000 foot butterfly with gold medallions dripping from his wings, and spears for eyes as he gazed at Miller. It seemed to be over as the winged deity took flight and aimed his eyes towards the defenseless horse. The gold medallions were tokens from hell used to send unruly horses to the ashes of the earth's core. Burning for eternity.
Miller heard a familiar voice and felt soft tentacles shift his petrified body out of the first strikes way. It was the octopus on the stem. It could move. The octopus on the stem was Jeremy Irons and his tentacles were the 8 points of the universe. Closing in around the Butterfly god and squeezing it so tightly with the suffocating grip of our polluted atmosphere, that the Winged Deity exploded like a piñata. Blood and intestines pranced throughout the maze as if they were excited to be free from captivity. They donned hula skirts and did a celebratory dance for Miller and Jeremy Irons before escorting them to the wading pool filled with sugar cubes and a 73lb carrot. There was a moment of silence for all the horses who fell victim to the butterfly maze's curse in dreams prior. The curse was broken, and so was day. Miller awoke and headed to the meadow to pee.
The end.
As dusk settled so did Miller. Atop the softest bale of hay he rested his eyes and muscles, and let out a content snort before drifting away to the gentle annunciations of Jeremy Irons. At peace with his conscious state Miller was now free like the night. To wander the landscapes of the imagination through dimensions of suspended gravity and reality.
Miller found himself in a maze of caterpillars. At the exit was a 73 pound carrot in a wading pool filled with sugar cubes. Miller had to navigate the maze successfully before the caterpillars morphed into butterflies with giant nail guns. These blood thirsty Lepidoptera will make a soup with a horse's kidneys and serve it to him before he dies. They bore no soul and Miller knew it. He had to reach the end of the maze before it was too late. He trotted lightly, but the sound of snapping twigs under his hooves stirred the beasts in their cocoons. His strides were careful as to not further disturb their slumber. For once awakened they would turn Miller to glue and send just his eyes back to his family, stuck to a piece of brown construction paper.
Miller was nearing the half way point through the maze. An octopus on a stem stopped him and asked if he could open his lollipop. The wrapper was way too goddamn tight, but Miller's teeth could pierce through rhino flesh if you let em'. Miller obliged because he is a Christian horse and that is what they do. The loud tearing and rustling of the lollipop wrapper awoke and enraged the butterflies. Fluttering around Miller with nail guns cocked, the butterflies salivated and began to dive bomb Miller. He swatted them away as quickly as he could. Trying to be a barricade to protect his new octopus flower friend. Miller grew into a giant. Muscles protruding from muscles. Each nail from the guns inciting more rage in Miller. He wasn't going to fall victim. He wasn't going to bear the thought of his family opening up a parcel with his eyes glued to a piece of brown construction paper. He grew even more massive and began slaughtering the butterflies by the thousands. Winged corpses strewn across the last stretch of maze when the universe shook. Trees and brush were uprooted as the grounds opened up to a 7000 foot butterfly with gold medallions dripping from his wings, and spears for eyes as he gazed at Miller. It seemed to be over as the winged deity took flight and aimed his eyes towards the defenseless horse. The gold medallions were tokens from hell used to send unruly horses to the ashes of the earth's core. Burning for eternity.
Miller heard a familiar voice and felt soft tentacles shift his petrified body out of the first strikes way. It was the octopus on the stem. It could move. The octopus on the stem was Jeremy Irons and his tentacles were the 8 points of the universe. Closing in around the Butterfly god and squeezing it so tightly with the suffocating grip of our polluted atmosphere, that the Winged Deity exploded like a piñata. Blood and intestines pranced throughout the maze as if they were excited to be free from captivity. They donned hula skirts and did a celebratory dance for Miller and Jeremy Irons before escorting them to the wading pool filled with sugar cubes and a 73lb carrot. There was a moment of silence for all the horses who fell victim to the butterfly maze's curse in dreams prior. The curse was broken, and so was day. Miller awoke and headed to the meadow to pee.
The end.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
junk
Their god is the junk, and they take the lord's name in vain.
Their god, their god, your god. Not my anything. Not my refrain.
Numb your senses. Yes the violence is senseless, we all feel defenseless, but to feel is strength, to live should be relentless.
Your eyes frozen sand dollars, your bones protrude. Your soul lives in squalor and you're stuck in a mood. Between a rock and a quiet afternoon.
Silence is deadly, but it can also be friendly, when staring at your reflection through the back of a spoon, your blood dancing a medley. You can close your eyes in a hurricane, but you'll still get knocked down. Out of sight, but in mind, you can't mask the world spinning round.
Your god is just junk. Your holy temple's rotted. A fix will not fix what was never meant to be solid.
Their god, their god, your god. Not my anything. Not my refrain.
Numb your senses. Yes the violence is senseless, we all feel defenseless, but to feel is strength, to live should be relentless.
Your eyes frozen sand dollars, your bones protrude. Your soul lives in squalor and you're stuck in a mood. Between a rock and a quiet afternoon.
Silence is deadly, but it can also be friendly, when staring at your reflection through the back of a spoon, your blood dancing a medley. You can close your eyes in a hurricane, but you'll still get knocked down. Out of sight, but in mind, you can't mask the world spinning round.
Your god is just junk. Your holy temple's rotted. A fix will not fix what was never meant to be solid.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
I'm An Avoider: The Anti-Stalker.
I never understood stalkers. All that effort. All that time. I just can't. That's too much. I am tired just thinking about the energy a stalker expends in pursuit of a restraining order. Why go through all that? In the history of stalking has there ever been a case where the person falls in love with the masturbating guy in the bushes below her bedroom window? I am not cold hearted. I know what it's like to love, be in love and yearn. But the effort these stalkers go through is like a bottle of Xanax to me. A fucking hammock full of Ambien. With the internet stalking has been made that much easier too. But even doing all that research on someone is way too daunting. I would prefer to the internet for what it was meant to be used for: Wrestling websites, and buying things that don't involve me having to leave my apartment. I am not a recluse though. I'm just writing this so that every one knows that i am not a stalker. I am an AVOIDER.
If I'm in love with you, you will never hear from me, or see me. I am so lacking in effort that you may not even exist. I don't like heights so there's no goddamn way I am climbing a ladder to watch you brush your hair through your bedroom window. You probably have something shitty on the t.v. that would distract me from watching you brush your hair anyways and I would have wasted a courageous effort on Montel Williams selling life insurance.
I won't send you weird love shit in the mail either. Mainly because postage is expensive and i hate going to the post office because they always look at me like i ate their puppy, but I'm not even Vietnamese. Since I don't follow you online i don't even know what you like anyway. So i could send you something that you'd completely hate, or possibly be allergic too. You could die. I don't wanna kill though. I just wanna copulate with you and talk about X-Men. I love you, I just don't care. So I'm keeping my stamps to myself.
If you are a musician, or other artist that i love don't be alarmed. As much as I'm a fan of yours and know all your work front to back, I'm an avoider. To show you how much i love you I won't die for you. I will not make a video from an empty apartment proposing to you with a ring I stole off my dead grandmother while i plan out our future. I don't want a future with you. That would require disillusion.That's not who I am. Yes, if you ever wanted to copulate on your tour bus I would be ok with that, but it would require all your effort and none of mine. Basically you'd have to be Bill Cosby to get me to have sex with you. To further show i love you, when you're playing a show in town i go the bar next door and listen through the muffled walls just so i don't have to see you. Hell, you may be dead right now and I would have no idea because i don't search your name on Google every 18 seconds. If that isn't real love and dedication, then i don't what is. So please stop thinking that I'm thinking about you.
If I'm in love with you, you will never hear from me, or see me. I am so lacking in effort that you may not even exist. I don't like heights so there's no goddamn way I am climbing a ladder to watch you brush your hair through your bedroom window. You probably have something shitty on the t.v. that would distract me from watching you brush your hair anyways and I would have wasted a courageous effort on Montel Williams selling life insurance.
I won't send you weird love shit in the mail either. Mainly because postage is expensive and i hate going to the post office because they always look at me like i ate their puppy, but I'm not even Vietnamese. Since I don't follow you online i don't even know what you like anyway. So i could send you something that you'd completely hate, or possibly be allergic too. You could die. I don't wanna kill though. I just wanna copulate with you and talk about X-Men. I love you, I just don't care. So I'm keeping my stamps to myself.
If you are a musician, or other artist that i love don't be alarmed. As much as I'm a fan of yours and know all your work front to back, I'm an avoider. To show you how much i love you I won't die for you. I will not make a video from an empty apartment proposing to you with a ring I stole off my dead grandmother while i plan out our future. I don't want a future with you. That would require disillusion.That's not who I am. Yes, if you ever wanted to copulate on your tour bus I would be ok with that, but it would require all your effort and none of mine. Basically you'd have to be Bill Cosby to get me to have sex with you. To further show i love you, when you're playing a show in town i go the bar next door and listen through the muffled walls just so i don't have to see you. Hell, you may be dead right now and I would have no idea because i don't search your name on Google every 18 seconds. If that isn't real love and dedication, then i don't what is. So please stop thinking that I'm thinking about you.
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Future Dead Person.
The cat is on the bed. There's muffled sounds coming from the television downstairs. The wind is hitting the wood frames on the windows like a softly thrown bowling ball putting down the alley. I'm overthinking tonight because I'm feeling sort of lost. Not in a dismal way, but more of a reflective thought. The kind of thought that isn't analyzed before materializing. One that just appears and is immediately transcribed into word. I gave up being addicted to depression, but I don't deny myself the pleasure of looking inward. A healthy cleanse is all it is. I guess I'm a little tired as well. I'm at a massive peak of creativity and drive so my brain is gasping. I gotta embrace these peaks and milk them for all they offer since one never knows how long the muse visits. Being more levelheaded is huge for creativity both for art and other purpose. I've utilized it lots in building myself up. Working on aspects of my character that i felt needed growth and development. There is a long way to go, but i am enjoying this quiet thinking because it doesn't involve thoughts of harming myself, despair or a broken heart. I think when you secretly enjoy being depressed because it's a built in excuse for not succeeding or even trying at life you're doing just as much harm as you would by cutting your wrists.
I like that i can be alone with my thoughts and they can just be random. It's a good kind of somber because I truly love my life. I love everyone in and around my life. And once i let go of my addiction to being depressed I truly began to appreciate everyone and thing around me. Especially myself. I'm stuck with me forever so i gotta learn to love me.
I love the freedom my mind brings me now too. There's all these branches sprouting up. It's a slow, but fun process because I'm seeing and feeling the change every day. I am becoming life. I can sit back and reflect without falling into an unnecessary sadness. I allow other perspectives to cross paths in my mind. It is so quiet right now and i LOVE it. I can hear the smallest humming on my screens from the wind and fans blowing toward them. It doesn't take me to a dark place anymore. It's not scary, or hopeless. It's now. I love now.
I love that i can be lost in thought, swatting at butterflies in my mind as I'm smiling at my cat trying to fight the dust particles floating above my lampshade. I love that i can look deep inside my soul and realize that it found me. I love that i can flick my finger on my cheek and it sounds like a water drop. I love gum drops. There's trials in life that may make me angry or frustrated, but i love that i can turn those emotions into a creative expression where no one gets hurt. I love that my bathroom is 5 feet from my bed because i pee so often.
Even as I'm lost in thought, I'm here. The wind blowing through the leaves makes it sound like rain. This isn't a phase either. I checked. There are no more passing strangers. Just life in unison. I am Dan and I'm a future dead person.
I like that i can be alone with my thoughts and they can just be random. It's a good kind of somber because I truly love my life. I love everyone in and around my life. And once i let go of my addiction to being depressed I truly began to appreciate everyone and thing around me. Especially myself. I'm stuck with me forever so i gotta learn to love me.
I love the freedom my mind brings me now too. There's all these branches sprouting up. It's a slow, but fun process because I'm seeing and feeling the change every day. I am becoming life. I can sit back and reflect without falling into an unnecessary sadness. I allow other perspectives to cross paths in my mind. It is so quiet right now and i LOVE it. I can hear the smallest humming on my screens from the wind and fans blowing toward them. It doesn't take me to a dark place anymore. It's not scary, or hopeless. It's now. I love now.
I love that i can be lost in thought, swatting at butterflies in my mind as I'm smiling at my cat trying to fight the dust particles floating above my lampshade. I love that i can look deep inside my soul and realize that it found me. I love that i can flick my finger on my cheek and it sounds like a water drop. I love gum drops. There's trials in life that may make me angry or frustrated, but i love that i can turn those emotions into a creative expression where no one gets hurt. I love that my bathroom is 5 feet from my bed because i pee so often.
Even as I'm lost in thought, I'm here. The wind blowing through the leaves makes it sound like rain. This isn't a phase either. I checked. There are no more passing strangers. Just life in unison. I am Dan and I'm a future dead person.
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