Thursday, January 27, 2011

i either ate to much last night or drank to much.  I guess you cant drink to much when youre tryin to kill yourself.  i was gonna say "I'll go sober if you go sober".  building roofs for over your head, I could do it my whole life.  I dont even understand my logic, Ive never loved somethin like that.  Always without a heart, my god...  In sixth grade I saved up my money and bought you a silver cross from t.j.maxx, in 8th grade i smoked crack for the first time.  dropped off, fuck you.  I remember kids called you 'boobless Bobbi' and I chased them down and kicked them onto the ground,  I crushed ones head in with the ball bin,  I did it again later to him cause he was throwin rocks at a bat but that was a year later.  The second time I got in so much trouble, they had my mom pick me up from school.  It's funny though because you have fake tits now and I used to like you- before that.  I never would now,  I won't date blondes.   from here on out I will ruin peoples lives if they cross me.  it is a threat.  i don't care anymore.  my blood is blood, that's about it.

i hate myself.  i tried making pumpkin bread earlier yesterday and it didn't work, it stayed liquid even bein in the oven for over three hours.  I cant feed myself or make myself shit that'd make me happy, it's pathetic.  shadows pulled me toward the walls, they got taller as i got closer.  i dont need nothin, i just wanna be beat to mauve and black spotted dog heals, heal.  i'm extremely fuc.....
I told my little sister she was born with a sacral tail but that my mom never told her.  I met a bartender from south street a couple days ago, she's fuckin hot.  I dont like her.  I dont like blondes... she does work at one of my favorite bars though.  guess I was made for one woman?  I sewed my jeans by hand the other day and the first pair i put on ripped again.  i was at a bar with my friends.  i like them cause honestly they give me free drugs.  any other reason would be a lie.  well except (Tanya) smells good.
i gotta smoke a cig.  um...  i'm not writin in this shit anymore.  It's stupid.  it's tryin to prove a point that doesnt mean anythin.  I just have nothin to say or write.


Did you know a star called Betelgeuse is supposed to explode/implode/super nova bullshit in 2012...  ?  It's supposed to light up the sky like a second sun for over a week.  I'll die before I see that shit.  Pray to me, tell me how it is.  I aint gettin a pizza on 2012 with noone but you and I actually hope i'm dead before then anyway.


reason one is- i started hearin voices the other day again.  It actually scares the shit out of me.  I have noone to tell who will understand.  except the doctor I go to sometimes... and I dont care enough about him or me to afford him; you know cause I do everythin myself now, have been.  My mom dont help me with nothin.  I got no social worker or healthcare.  WOE is me huh, fuck that.  At least when I d....  Sometimes I think that's why I might die or be a fuckin good husband.  pollinate up in that shit and have a devil baby.  raise it in the catacombs and shit.  that's all i fuckin wanna do and shit.  just cum up in your shit.  i need a cigarette...   Noones ever been there for me and I sure as shit dont need noone now, unless I want pumpkin bread I guess, I cant cook at all.  ill probably stab anyone who comes near me today.  I'm not writin in this thing anymore.  I dont respect you because you've always had someone there and I don't, I don't have noone.  I'm gonna read my book about the Bermuda Triangle and sleep forever.  I'll do some traveling,  I'll lay in the woods with you, plot out where to build a glass house.  Look out through pourin rain under the cover of owls sittin in hangin trees.  Raccoons picking off the lacquer that's chipping off the corners of the house, hear the wind come in through the window.  I was never given a real chance.  what's fucked up is record executives have contacted me, want me to play with a group of trained musicians from Nashville that Ive never even met.  what the fuck is that?  These people probably amazin with no vision of their own to play for me.  I dont even know how to approach shit like that.  set up for failure man.  turned dumb. cause that's what i want,  in a house in the woods.  Not leavin eachothers sides for nothin.  pure.  sick.  disgusting.  Sleep forever.  I'm not writing in this shit anymore.    I gotta walk in 10 ft snow now.  na i'm goin back to bed.  i hate god.  fuck u. bye.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

I'm fuckin hearin voices again.  I was checkin behind bushes in my mom's backyard last time I heard them like this.  My leg is hurtin more and more and they told me I might need to use a cane in two-five years.  This past summer I ran through the woods, climbed on top of rocks and cliff jumped into the susquehanna then winter came and my leg hurts like shit.

not even god can hurt us there.  beneath stairs.  at least two days a week I've been hopin.  I don't really know.


kiss kiss kiss yourself to death
never wanted it to end like this
the corners of my walls they all do insist 
i want your swingin shadow to blanket my blankness
your whiskey is the perfume ive slept with lately
and heaven is the place hes in when he is rapin
under the buststop theres plenty of love,
wipe off the stovetop drips of my blood
cause that's how we are

sick beneath trees that lined the fence next to the park
people can tell youre wounded when youre touched
if im a bad person why do u love me so much?
...cause thats now how u are

attend church wit michael on the outskirts of st. marks
locked in the bathroom u pissed a plus sign, thru the door he said
you're not the one goin to hell so why are u da one lookn so dead?

Monday, January 17, 2011

toag deirdtsirch

      A few years back I made my way   across the northern plane.   I was traveling with a couple I knew the girl she had long brown hair  and the boy also   did.
From Oregon we passed through Twin Falls Idaho and continued north through Wyoming.  On back roads we happened upon a van  parked in a field underneath a set of trees and the limbs looked like someone's arms broken into a thousand ways after mangled with a sledge hammer maybe and then       hung with clothes pins from a an old metal clothing line.  under these branches a group of nomadic kids yelled to us, all in their twenties maybe all a little older than me.  They offered and we   drank homemade moonshine with them and I traded my shoes to one of the kids for some really good speed.

        The couple left without me and the van of these hippies were headed the opposite direction from where I needed to be, I persuaded them to drop me off at the nearest highway.  A man picked me up and took me home where his wife was and I showered there and I had to    kick the mud off that was on my feet.  I argued with the man as we ate stew and cornbread he ccalled me a communist.  Remembering old Pasolini films I've watched I began to identify with his constant references.  He was a fascist libertine who's wife reassured that I stay the night.  The soup bowls were the fancy ones from those dinnerware sets in department stores and I threw the bowl at the window farthest but directly in front of me breaking it.  
He fell in love with the idea of prostitution as I beckoned with God.  His thoughts conceived my own and so my attempts at freedom had to manifest in somethin other   than a     physical ideal.  
           Waking up tied to a chair with dirty cloth in the kitchen I remembered Bertolucci films and how the women were glorified in a pragmatic light, to me anyhow.  If it made sense when I undid myself from t  he cloths I heard the man waking up at the sound of my consciousness.  His wife was in the kitchen and ignored me as I picked through the cupboards.  wrapping tinfoil around my head would hide me for sure.     I saw 3 gutted fish on the counter and crucified and bleeding roe out onto the floor, they still twitched and breathed.  the wife sat on the floor, she had blonde hair that was graying.  From under the sink where she sat in front of I pushed her to the side and she was lifeless in body except her head which kept sayin 

"i aint afraid of no devil, i aint      afraid of the d evil     , i aint afrid of the devil cause , I aint afrain of the dev il....."


                Drinking a glass of bleach my throat kept inside  secrets    and so  the invader not able to hear me think I showered again.  Both the man and the wife said I could borrow the truck if I abandon it somewhere off highway 463 by Old Crows.  I must have walked a whole day before I was picked up again this time by another old ma  n who told me about a Thai girl he used to love and I had something like that I was thinking of an the old Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton movie "golf antics" and that was maybe one of my    favorites and how I   couldn't stop laughing at the groundhog who steals all of the golf balls until Buster Keaton shoots the groundhog, I did that too sometimes.  I had this friend and her name wasn't important but she'd laugh alot.  The man said "did she have big titties" and I don't know if she died but I made my way across the northern plane.  the man said "I'm not afraid of the devil , I'm not afraid of the devil, I' not afraid of no devil" and he always smelled like sawdust.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Stalin dressed in girls' clothes

 stray stray stray (demo) by convict gypsy



u scratched marks into your legs
ripped skin like a colorin book maze
eat grass until u dont shake
sang devil children from they cave

stalin dressed in girl clothes
fetal in fetu a ghost u name cole

told me thing you didnt tell ur mom
other things u wouldnt tell noone
i do things i never talk about
we both know how bad that sounds

sounds like ice gainst glass in spring
gota spread spread like legs or wings
heavens somwhere between ur thighs
the sky in my dead eyes

that saw right through you
when ur on the couch and cant move
i could stray stray stray

under under an overpass we make
fire , every burnt bible page
god help me escape and blow away

well today i have to go to group
but i promise ill talk about you
my lifeline stopped on my palm
but i never told noone

Sunday, January 9, 2011

chrival trujest

the cop cars out my window bustled past like the cavalier.
my dreams sped past and out my head, but my stomach still hurt 
until i knew i was finally looking at heaven, written across my wall in pen.  not you and your sister.
while you're here waiting to die, rest your hand on your crotch, trail your other hand across the hairs on your arm until they raise and you feel the cold hold onto you.
i never stopped looking for your face in every taxi that passed by the iron rot gates.
particular alleyways between Penelope's veins that still remain darkened in darkened retreat as the last to purge bible pages from your arms, eyes, and feet.  would you stop for a baby?
mammary induced intuition abuse, a new flower to replace the dead ones from every season over, swollen n therefor lacking of plan; you hear the rain fall outside, you hear the rain fall outside, you hear the rainfall outside.
i wanna kill everything that has a soul.  all the trees are dead, from down here, you held my head and you touched my hair and said to me "Jady, it's sick that that's the only thing that ever makes you smile."

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

pissed cvs is out of marb lights, that's why it caught on fire
pissed i cant eat
pissed i cant move
birds are dyin everywhere
shit
try to start writin somethin?