The draw of your body deprived me of my will and better judgment. Your eyes and ambivalence called me back two days and $ 280 later.

You weren't happy when I met you at first and I realized a pain in your heart and head that wanted to work its way out in words/gestures that were superficially meaningless but painfully loud to anyone with nothing to gain.

And I stood slouching with a childlike nervousness and feigned ignorance to your world that was unspoken yet obviously evident despite the fog of compulsion draped over my awareness.

I wanted what you were given. My behavior was already condemned the minute I picked up the phone to dial your number. I might as well finish the act so that I can continue beating my head against the wall to finally resemble the dark mass of human mess I strive so vigilantly to become.

You gave in with all my effort and the only thing I could say was that I'm sorry for taking advantage of the situation "I hope you have a good day".

Handled in a manner if care. Legions rising and falling with the tides. A mean and standard deviation of 0.07% calculated for access to the colored butterfly bones.

No longer allowed access to greater plains, the majestic overview became a barren landscape. Gravity became non-existent and the field  collapsed into the skies every night until it no longer resembled itself.

In memory, the sad clown traded in his wig for a hat, his nose for a map, and his shoes for boots. He kept the jacket as a reminder. Greater laws existed that were at once unknown/unseen. The laughter he heard no longer included him, instead it was generated by the sorry figure he had become.

Grim outlook and cave outreach for shelter needed. This man walked among the many backdrops in a dogged manner hanging on to the last bit of survival instinct that remained.

It:::::just:::::::so:::::::happens

-that a door to another world opened today. I caught a glimpse but my attention is so consistently drawn to the weight of what I carry; it is gently cradled while I rearrange the tattered wraps that keep it bundled. 



-Such a man as this committed to remain stuck in this world while crying for a change; the royal cynic shadow king, lazily draped upon a throne of ***** matter.

-If not the others who make up this world, who can I look to for the feeling of worth that I cannot find?

-I've decided to sit this one out a long time ago, you know? I keep the expectations low enough to match the efforts but my thoughts are too many to regard this as victory. 



-It just so happens that I live my life in a constant state of grief. I mourn the naïveté that once provided escape. I mourn the loss of hope, no longer comforted by the story of a distant day feeling worthy of life and just being enough.

-What I seek cannot be provided from the world I see outside. This feeling of worth is not attached or enhanced by lovers, friends, or family. No experience, accomplishment, object, or victory will satisfy my soul.

-In the end, I can only rely on myself.



-This realization is a new door and the first steps wandering through begin the path of holding oneself accountable for decision and action.

-Empty, unapologetic, and all consuming

-A discovery that all days painted in an unfavorable way have been set to the theme I've created.

-This path is not chosen by everyone, some never meet this realization. I run only to end up right where I started. Others deny and hide from the ugliness that resides within. The once empty pleasures of activity without substance will no longer do, but the rewards along the way are many.


-Some days I really can’t find my value. Some days all that I create turns out like sh*t. Some days I cry about my imperfections and those reflected by my family. Some days I don't want to wake. Most days I crave more connection while hiding away. Some days just don't seem worth the effort it takes to make it through to the next. 



Still sad – partly mad
Am I worthy of this life? 

If I wasn’t this would not exist.

Peculiarly different in the way of bad connection. The ease of bonding was compromised with the temperament that was borne upon me. Aren't we all worthy of love? Ive found the new love of my life, once so lost and directionless; I have finally found the life's work that is meant for me - by accident.

TRAGIC COMEDY
Driving lost and slowly, no - only a certain speed tears muscle from bone and sinew; the most morbid memory of death and the lead taste of blood from a crushed skull splattered with a hammer over and over again.

It finally happened. A dear crossed the road in slow motion. The entire mass was split into 3 sections as my vehicle plowed through.

Exhilaration!!!

At last, the meaning is discovered. The loneliest connection to life is death.

5 hours driving in preparation of new pleasure. The target must not be rushed. The life of an older person is ideal; they've experienced more of it.

Down the road again. Someone walking on the shoulder of a long stretching road; this is meant to be. Make a quick stop: ask for directions to something, somewhere. After disappearing around the bend, my 10 and 2 calmly exchanged positions over and over again to complete a u-turn.

Heart beating fast - Fire eyes... The walker recognized the vehicle and tried to step out of the way. I put the pedal to the floor board and ****** the wheel at the precise moment we met eyes for the last time.
Terror...

POW!!!!!!
No longer the flight of fancy that stayed my waking state with images and cravings; the storm has truly begun. Wind blown laundry on the line, caught in the flying droplets descending slowly at the end of a horizontal trajectory as the strength of wind died down once its range was finally met. The laundry - like me - care free and clean, soaked by the drizzle of an impending storm without the guidance of caring hands. I have heard about what is described as the calm before the storm. For me, the calm was only a foreshadowing of what I have become.

Setting: Black and white landscape, grayscale populace. Dull droning frequency progressively inaudible, machine type quartz operated movement from birds eye view.                •••••••• READ•THE•MESSAGE••••••••

Way -  too - much.

You're not spending enough.
You need a car like this.
You don't look like them.

Next Setting: The brain. Synapses and dendrites/stalactites and stalagmites.

••••••••IN•ANOTHER•PLACE••••••••

Reading angels write hymns of summer sight, snowflake moonlight; life to no end, broken door still shut with moist eyes and dry lips. Sing to me from fallen skies and invade my prison mind.

Fever clutch shadow craving collapsed oxygen bandages soaked red with blood and organized by decomposition rate.

Capsized ship sunk mentality, leveled from the tarnished mirror. Scoop hand down for packaging cassette tapes neatly. No kneel working while busy foraging the soft shore for answers to the newer questions yesterday. Grains and globular surface melting molten and traveling through the path of least resistance.

••••••••OLD•NEWS•NEW•ESCAPE••••••••

Commence the countdown!

Shed light beam - scattered amidst shadowing December and shallow compliment of gathered mass.

Bright moonlight stills the whispering vapors where you once left beaten sneakers, football cards, and smelly socks.

This view from there where you once played your guitar; the hole in the screen remains where filtered smoke poured out the window from the bubbling drag of natures antiquity.

Science was only existent in an ancient alchemy.

Laughter came easiest while dreams remained bountiful and attainably tucked in the future projects folder before collecting thick layers of dust beneath well wishing and inaction; just feed now for the annoying perpetual adolescence that holds me down with regret.

Weighty concerns finally crept up slow and sneakily like a strong dose  of LSD on a
school night.

Laughter becomes tears. This weight is mine and can only be carried by me. Why do those that I sought for direction seem so lost? Who am I if not the one who walked in the room?

No one but me. Only I can answer that. The answer comes and goes. Heartbreak can shatter an ego like nothing else.
I still love you all.
Thank you.
Forgive me.

Laughter at the pirate ship wreck
Incarcerated alibi.
Self-doubt and enemy envy.

Post neurosis mental chariot waiting patient set to test and task the palatial steel ballast.

Starting to startle itself awake according to twilight reporting recognized first and focused lazily to be remembered later for the first half percent.

Decent decline descending darkness ascending atoms attending arson. Gallant grey nose for cold weather bubbling wound **** streak pillow.
Plain sight eyes glazing reminiscent veteran folded over beer bottle drunk at home the unknown soldier.

Spirit spear piercing glowing nexus weightless flying high shadows vacant samurai clutch in an adjacent basement.
Bleeding bone fractured paper homes manufactured homeless jeering platelet picked and cast like a rune on your first born baby blanket.

Hallow, heated, grave displayed, and looped backwards.  

Happy fishing!