I will never know this man
This Single Serving Friend
To quote Fight Club
He is the same.
They are all the same
"Fabriano," he tells me his name
I raise my orange juice to him
"Cheers,"
We are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world.
Hovering thousands of feet in the air
In this aluminum tube
Oops, I broke the first two rules

Legs shake
Jitters, excitement, anxiety
"I've moved heaven and earth to get this,"
Festive for Rome
"Group one," she announces
"In the beginning," I think.
Let the story commence.
Flock goes the sheep
What is foreign to some
Is native to others
Airport fun

I see it in your eyes.
Your fear.
A fear of the unknown.
A fear of taking risks.
A lack of success.
A lack of effort.
A lack of motivation.
A lack of going for your dreams.
A frustration.
The dry threats.
"I'm gonna come down there and kick your ***," you say.
Like dry heaves.
It's wretching.
The nectar of youth slithering away.
Your trying to grasp, clamp so tight.
You are lost.
Taking your frustrations out on others.
"You are such a **** up," you snap.
You've given up on yourself.
You're drowning.  
I love you.  But I can't help you.

Who are my characters? John Prat or Marvin Prat. John Ector or Marvin Ector. Then there is Mrs. Valdez and Autumn. Who are they in relation to John and Marvin? What do you want your characters to show? Who are they? Are they funny? Comical? Tragic? What? What do they want? I want them showing me. I want them as extensions of me. I want to take everything I have learned and put them into my characters. They are facets of my imagination combined into one giant ball, clusterfuck and **** of people that is my life. I want them to display my hatred. My disheveled hair. My looks. I want them to be oddly reminiscent of my family and my personal life. I want them to ignore their own feelings and not be happy. I want them to be happy. I want them to love and cry and weep and feel pain. I want the world to hate them and I want them to hate themselves, I want the world to love them and I want them to love themselves. I want them to fall from grace. I want them to fall down so many times and be on the verge of not picking themselves up. To say **** this  I'm done with it all. I want them rejected and rejected and rejected and keep losing. I want them to win. I want them to destroy themselves. I want them to create themselves. I want them to create their own world filled with imagination. I want to **** them. I want them bleeding and bruised. I want them to end up homeless on the street with nowhere to go with needles sticking out of their veins. I want them to find god. I want them crawling through a river of **** and coming out clean on the other side. I want them to enjoy the little things and hate the little things. I want them to come to life. But ultimately I want them to make me cry. I want them to touch something inside of me that laid dormant for years. I want them to understand and feel my pain and empathize with me like no one has. I want myself in these pages. These sticky pages that combine to make a story.

Dear Prudence, Julia, Michelle, Mr. Moonlight, Eleanor Rigby, Dizzy Miss Lizzy, Lady Madonna, Lovely Rita, Rocky Racoon, Lucille, **** Sadie, Clarabella, Her Majesty, Nowhere Man, Penny Lane, Carol, Long Tall Sally, Maggie Mae, Johnny B. Goode, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, Moonlight Boy, Martha My Dear,

You Like Me Too Much. It’s All Too Much. I’m So Tired. The Night Before Yesterday Memphis, Tennessee, I Saw Her Standing There. Polythene Pam.
Not A Second Time She Said She Said “Hey Bulldog. I Want To Hold Your Hand. Why Don’t We Do It In The Road. Here, There and Everywhere. Something.”
I Want To Tell You I Should Have Known Better.  “Wait. Slow Down. I Just Don’t Understand. Tell Me Why.”
“Because I’m Down. I’m Happy Just To Dance With You. Hold Me Tight”
“I’ll Be On My Way”
“Please Please Me”
“Get Back. Help!”


And I Love Her
All My Loving,
Mean Mr. Mustard
P.S I Love You

We don’t take in the best parts.
Never satisfied,
Never being enough.

We don’t take time to observe.
Pausing
Only for a moment.

We don’t spend time enjoying,
Little things.

We don’t allow them to consume us.
Fill us up.
Breathe them in.
Take us over.
Control over every move.

I know,
Because I’m the worst offender.

Today the rain is falling,
It looks so dark and bad.
For today the clouds are calling.

I think that God is bawling
It really is quiet sad
Today the rain is falling

Lighting outside is striking
Nature seems real mad
For today the clouds are calling

It couldn't be more boring
Stuck inside in bed
Today the rain is falling.

The birds have stopped their chriping
I should probably add
For today the clouds are calling

So as I sit here watching
It isn't a new fad
Today the rain is falling