Worthless Sack of Flesh and Shit

^ That is me.

Dammit all. I am pretty drunk. And I have a lot of remorse under my belt. You see, focus is a foreign affair in this state, and in these days alive. I'm so angry angry angry at what could have been, should have been, had human kindness been a priority still in this world, and if I would put myself first and additionally, take some motherfucking initiative.

I am so fucking worthless. But that may never change. I remain a vessel of teleported wisdom, fever, hype, and such as inactive. Since youth, devoid of the basic calamity to triumph. Jesus fuck, I wish I had smoked instead of drank. This is pretty horrific, those thoughts that enter my mind. Instead of wondering why my prayers for a plane crash, first in Sept 07, then in Mar 08 didn't take place, I'm now wondering why that night, in New Orleans, when I wandered around the streets late at night, alone, while the love of my life was probably masturbating on the phone with her hunk of hell lover--- I thought, "why couldn't I have been mugged, killed/slaughtered?" Why did this misfortune have to continue? Why was I granted further access into life, when all it has proven to me since has been a trial of deceit, injustice, treachery, malclaim, abolishment of all human rights, more and more lies, lustlustlustandabottleofvoid


I am losingg my mind. It isn't always clear and truthfully apparent, because my love, though lack of respect, for others is so abundant even now. I go into work each day ready to feed off the boundless energy of circumstance, moments wonder and mischief, and all already fun... only to be spiralled into an apathetic warzone of slavery, abuse, and false appeal.

Damn son. This is not me. This is what happens when the world is on the way out, and nature and nurture are servants to the cluttered mess we feel inside our bellies.

I need to piss out the alcohol. Approx. 10 shots of rum is not recommended on a slightly empty stomach. Fuck.

I never learn.


I just keep adoring.

quip

Title dreams for when she's abandoned herself
Establishing reason as a prefix to discovery
Sensory motors crave the unseen, untouched, unknown
And vacuum receptors are knocking out the competition
Therefore there was no chance for I
Disembarked on that which was a can without a label
In true form, in attestation to the sake of purity
Boundlessly loved, day after day

Ah Tom

The horoscope is pretty much right on. Today was one of those times where my words actually meant something to people. Good vibrations...

Chris, wish you could have made it tonight. I'll just be lit to pop without ya. Today was one of the strangest days of my life, hands down. Didn't sleep until 3:50 pm, woke at 10:30 pm... we'll see when I next sleep. Busy ass 5 days coming up. Working 12-Cl (split shifts) Friday, Saturday, Sunday. That's at least 33 hours. So right at 40 for the week, in 4 days, as I work tonight. Nice.

Stadium Arcadium really is something great. It's almost too obvious, and this is why I spent the better portion of 2 years not listening to it, though I somehow know it inside out regardless. Music is the largest force in my life at this point. More so than ever. 2009 will unquestionable be the biggest year in music thus far in my lifetime. Exciting shit.

The best, only truly fantastic aspect of my employment at the Olive Garden is the occasional desserts I will acquire during a week. For instance, last month, I once took 4 slices of pumpkin cheesecake home. This past weekend, it was 4 slices of white chocolate raspberry cheesecake. That's about $25 a box, people.

Jane's Addiction's cover of Ripple is incredible.

Beyond the Salvage

As dangerous as light assisting from the inside
Illuminating your temptress weave
An eclectic moment in her eyes
Were breaching all sighs of relief on your heart
Evading this way and that, avoiding all clutter and deficiency
The moment the starkness of brew spoke, I knew I needed a bigger knife
Than I had on hand, in anywhere within arms reach
And the dagger was coming too soon and scuttle out from under the weight
And the accuracy of that pending stream was unquestionable
Target selected, timeline skewed, utter chaos ensues...

Everyone has met someone
And I'm detained at best
The furthest shot at dynasty
Withdrawals in timid whisper
As a snarl waiting to be hatched
On an unknowing crowd
Those both that tremble bits
They shook again with pride
In humble clips of fervent past
Envelopes wholly inside lapse
Renewal from a golden age
The pond deferred this given
Sorry for the prospect waste
Indifferent to the swollen cheeks
Blood clambered on the rocks
I fulfill that promised state
An emergency to the task at hand
Evident and fallen ill to mess
Crumbling pillars of our hope
Pressed against the time we spoke
Of openly proposed commands
And deviant tokens paid
Before the collected sand
We'll dispel winter for a breeze
And again pray and hope
No one's ever gonna leave you
Just to close another book
And in concern of the planted seed
You only need attest to me

Fear of Fives

A boost into your youth
Where the quandary is misplaced
We gather and spark those plugs that needed rewire
And instigate those thoughts that pop into recession
Global union and a forest of the dollar
Splash the bridges, it's obscene
The marrow is hope stricken
The pathway the membrane
We organize the pope in depth casket

Series of Remorse

prelim:
The smell of warmth
The feel of home
Oh, how complimentary you are to me
It's a stretch now, but we tingle with the cursory urge
And if any a day is to come with our proximity being tested
I forfeit the memory of having it any other way
Though it may deserve a mention, the clutter that has shriveled

chapterone:
I'm so happy to be rekindled
I want us to be us
We were delivered, hand-wrapped in veil
Just wanting to be friends
We were as new again
Foresight to the new age of dancing/antics

chaptertwo:
past-time preferences, illuminated by force
any patterns set were dividing the stage
and the symmetry is a falling block
when the pilgrims etch past the future
any devices since inch past the suture
we witness ill perception to the void at last

onwards:
what alternatives are there now?
we are running low
as science narrates nature
and all divinity is sculpted by virtue
meek brays decipher the common code
by which the marking admits defeat
of a global union incited by reclaim to speech
what follows suit should be left to the memory therein

drifted back and forth in the truck bed
and then opened my eyes skyward, in defense I fought a mechanism
and before the shutters closed gave glimpse of better faring men
I am lying down, on a soft resort for rest, after which begins my journey

here's the thought:
How would that feel?
Being told, "I'm writing this book about you and I."
Fear-gripped, or melted by pure flattery?
You see, it's drenched with distraction

a problem with his public displays of affection?
more for you to have on display?
"well yes, but men and women see things differently."


I lost ya, start with "before I begin."

Cornerstone Rituals

I’m so very tired of religious and political affiliations justifying what has since become adequate procedure for Constitutional abandonment. These globally downcast men contradict that which bred their freedom, their beliefs, detest any opposition to their ulterior leads, and above all, continually act inhumanely towards any other facet of society, be it due to riches, lack thereof, in some eyes; ethnicity, status, gender—what be it. The white man still takes what is wrongfully his own, blessing the path with a kiss and repentance, eager to trudge more slowly and deviate the scheme from a foreign branch of interdependent wealth.

None is as it should be. Let tomorrow breathe down the backs of those aforementioned with frigid grip. All remaining in this lush interval will seek the higher understanding of what it is to roam the woods.

Fancy Sprint

We'll soon again follow my lead
And convince any details to stay and believe in the conviction
Though it's thus far unorganized, scrambled, and latent
Sometimes its marbled at a moments notice
See, there is little craft in the courtroom
Your summoning some humble hollow pleas
And the showmanship appointed is a burial before sea
So much in my earshot;
These foreseen goals glimpse the shape of triumph
Moping around the stiff social scene


I was going to frolic In Rainbows, but wound up in Joe's Garage.