im so relieved.... im so confused..... i just wish i was dead

growed

hit over the head by flying tempered glass.... to reunite is shattering.... almost.
aged to perfection, whiskey breath blessed us thou join our father in heaven and sentenced.

to be restless

destined to be distanced


by wandering saints, my armor as candle smoke....( just judge )
led away if not to ever stray.  she watches blooming brown roses from
moving camera lens hands. smoking time in both our heads our nightstands.
dead sheep rot. dead dear doe. dead wolf is forest as snow is the snow.
everybody dies homeless tomb. webbed branches braided like plastic covered furniture drapes down,
like bodies decay dipping in and out and down on the ground.   whiskey dick.
my heart hurt cause my chest was there to keep it from the sky.
so high nothin could pull me down.
i got over my addictions  like old baseball card covers,
kept in drawers hidden, not traded anymore
but kept in mint condition.
i kicked it weeks before you came.
like soccer ball at soccer game.
untrained, unglued, peeling the sheets off myself and putting them over you.
it's my funeral so everyone else gets to plan it.
just say i was a horrible man and a good liar,
and that i'll get what I want.

i am...

i am done writing for now.  because there is nothing to write about that makes me feel better.

waitin on an ok next four days for 140 bucks....or whatever....my ending of patterned leg sports/ spans... blood sport, expand....
out the ends of beds sit bedpans. my wildness ensues in passionate complasence, the dairy
component of my hands empty spaces, my shoes fitting on with untied laces. how you can
float on most cases, how my skin is coffin and still spacious
i saw baby dolls on shelves hooked on walls, that sprawled the length of young mexican girls daydreams.
clenched in the fingers of natural pulls, in CVS past shitty magazines to hardware tools, from revolutions of declarations of passions to school.  murdered inhibitions, fist fights, fucked. strung across skin carpets
after bar and street close down.  i still wish i got a magazine....could sleep....eat...not feel insane

i like when celebrities die

  I like when celebrities die by convict gypsy

you watch tv (couch)
you watch me(sunshine)
you like wen celerities die(siamese twins)
and fancy things (toys)
you never had (fuckup)
just your dreams (animals at windows)
ur fathers old hat (ugly)
why youd steal at school (pretty)
some girls kit caboodle (rich)
dont blame this child (childhood)
dont blame me child (regret)
and do u think we’ll survive (no)
i mean u and i (especially)
wen ur lonley beauty makes u cry (always)
like when celebrities die (princess diana)
in a fire  (meltin plastic fuckin skin)
or wreckin the cars (texting)
slit their throats( betrayel)
fallin off of boats (sharks )
we grew up to fast (done done done)
just like ur father had (dead)
to far in to hell to fast (heroin)
when he came home from work u wdnt speak(babies)
u watched me (infatuation)
when i watched tv (nothingness)
angled skin captured in light (fame)
my veins fall asleep (collapsed)
now when ur givin head (nice)
to ur new boyfriend (who cares)
he cant see ur haunted eyes( beautiful)
ur smile wen celebrites die(future)
hell isnt down its up( 666)

depakote

 Depakote by convict gypsy

what's sleep, what's bein awake?
i found a bunch of purple hair under my bed. what the fuck is that?
i hate how i have to go outside to smoke.  thanks for breakfast, thanks for everything.  shit changes.
i was joking about you gettin me heroin, it made you cry, i laughed but then when there were other problems I dont know.... you listened, gave me encouragement to do better and alot of the time I am... well, i have been.  i can keep fake smilin at you or if you go somewhere else i can smile for real.  i ran over a dead cat on my bike and almost wrecked.  i think ive been outside maybe twice in the last week.  so that's the good news and bad news.  something, i don't know what but it's floatin around the air, it makes me feel like death.
what's death.  Belphegor is playin at the troc
April 24th.  and i want to go and I will if i can afford it
or if someone wants to buy me a ticket.  It smells good outside right now,
it smells like grass and decay/thawing so spring is almost here.
to much has happened and changed this past week so i'm usually either
screamin at nothing or keepin my mouth shut.  i dont like how hostile ive gotten.
i dont like how i have nothin to write about anythin.  i like how i stay up and just shake
 and not think of anythin until the damn sun comes up. goddamn the sun. shoot me.

get it