Filed under: pain
hate the self
times nine out of ten
huh, a coincidence
the thinking of you or me
stfu street freak crashing
the couch is not my head
i guess i’ll leave my love behind
tomorrow morning you may find tonight was
is nothing but sorrow
my dears…
……………………………………….
fuck it.
how can i hide my broken heart
when i can neither get over it nor
nor nor nor nor nor nor
deal with it
and i know how annoying it is
babe, i do
but i think, so do you
how easy it is for me to say
i am over you
and mishear it as
i enamour you
FUCK BABE. just hold me in my bed
Filed under: pain
“I am Jack Kerouac”
On Tuesdays
Jack and I
we share quite the same mind
seeing the world but through a different eye
50 some years apart
wandering walks replaced with focused flicking screens
i spend the nights with a blasted plaster
and Jackie boy nurses the hangover
from the week long bender
that i draw out for 7 months
but months pass and 52 Twosdays
make up a year
28 tuesdays since i saw straight
a cycle –
which way to coherency?
when we write, it’s only because there’s a pen
in our hand
where is desire? want? lust?
in a God we refuse to see?
You, me, him, let’s deny
ask questions whose replies
we ignore
what a stupid question
who should ask such a thing?
I forgot (did i?)
there are no stupid questions,
only inquisitive morons
ask a question, receive a lie
the Bible a story written
because my stupid ancestor
asked a fool holding a pen
why must we write?
why not ask a man with an axe (a differet tool)
he’d've done right by us
and chopped off the head –
kill(ed) the stupid before it eats (ate?)
my child
–Jackie, I’m leaning with you
but you’ve gone from here now
Tuesday ended two hours ago
it’s Wednesday and you’ve got to mend
just watch this
Filed under: pain
Fuck this. I’mma do this on my own. Taking “on my own” loosely. Hey look I’m just avoiding more by not even saying what this is. Whatever. Whether I get by writing here or one of the many other places I could, talking to people when they can stand to listen, whatever, I can do this on my own. On my own isn’t always so internal. I don’t expect anyone to read this, but it’s an act of expression not retention.
Had to take off for the weekend. Couldn’t stand to be around an incompetent selfish slob. Sucks that I let that control my actions so much. I should just say: Fuck you, bitch. Instead of taking off. Whatever. I hope you think my disappearance = my death. Cos you don’t have any right to any part of my life, least of all my mind in these times of change.
Necessity vs. necessity v.
Judgment vs. assessment
Not exactly a good time to take off. Got no money. Only had a ticket left on prepaid VIA card. Fill a bag with a tshirt and cutoffs and laptop and an old notebook. Is the internet not a dependency too huh? Writing in here? HA HA HA you are so fucking wrong about me.
WHATEVER
I hit the road. I don’t know if I’ll make it back after the weekend. It seems VIA rail is going to strike this weekend and since I have no money it’s my only way back. At least I’ve got good cause to bail on Monday. Should make a phone call tonight. Got to. Not should.
Bitter, eh?
Take off, detox, let one of the supressed personalities rule for a bit. Shit. When I’m back I’ll be exhausted. But recharged. Get high by being low so I can be high.
Skate a new park, observe. Let ‘em go talk shit.
“A mute is someone who chooses not to speak”
Stereotype meeeeeeeeeeeeee
whatever you say
just wanna feel exotic
not exhausted
wanna jump
straight into your pictures
fuck it’s all wrong
the picture it seems consumed me
failed to be a dropout, blow out
the burn out
but ahh ideals, immeasurable
short the circuit
no more ac
up the furnace
time to burn
and so this isn’t a completely selfabsorbed diary blog entry:
Across the Universe
“music’s the only thing that makes sense any more, man… play it loud enough, keeps the demons at bay”
