I remember I was scared to death
the first time I had a girl alone with me
I remember thinking
do I just pull it out and present it
Or do I wait for her to ask to see it
or do I just sit here and talk untill she says "are we gonna do this"
Or do I go "are we gonna do this"
instead we watched like 2 hours of random tv, talked, I showed my Tattoos
she Showed me ones that she will be getting someday on her body.
And then it Happened the sign
The flip of the hair
The little Flutter of the eyes
I knew I had to make my move
So I said "I've been looking at you since I first saw you and wondered what'd be like to kiss you"
she says "well are you gonna keep wondering or do it"
We begin to make out in the back of my head im praying she doesnt start using tounge
because im horrible at french kissing. Luckily it didn't happen
As I begin to rub her back I unsnap her braw with one hand
which I never did before that.
The shirt came off smoothly and I looked at a set of amazing little perky *******.
I tasted her flesh surrounding this tender area
and took my shirt off
revealing my skrany tatted up body.
She began to push down on me and soon as  was on my back and she was Hovered over me.
I remember thinking to myself THIS IS AWESOME.
just as she thought she was in controll I flipped her over brushed my hands down her hips.
AND IT HAPPENED the moment you know your getting laid (my brother told me this before)
The slight arch of her back just enough for me to remove her pants in a swift motion.
The rest is history
or should I say Herstory.
I remember the next day going to school
and later on seeing her at parties
and eventually I never seen her again
somehow or another she just vanished
to this day I dont Know where she is
but **** can I remember everything about that night
her outfit down to her ear rings
what song I had playing (Tupac How do You Want It)
the nervous tick  I do with my thumb nails clicking them haha.
she asked me if This was my first time ( I replied yes)
She told me that I was her first also (not like first)
but first time actaully being made love too.
she said I knew exactly what to do
and that she never had a man actaully take his time with her.
I brushed her hair back
and whispered in her ear ( in all the seas and all the lakes I found  mermaid by mistake)
my little way of saying she was speacil.
I've never found another mermaid is what im getting at
and honestly after all the girls past present a future
I'll never have another night like that
so if your out there Aubrey
this writings for you

blood red romance
take me away
the razor hath slain
blood did stain
dripping emotions
seeping out of skin
old scars broken
new ones begin
if you look close
you can see
the dark mark on my jeans
hides blood underneath
put down pile up
makes me feel ****** up
i realize i messed up
and thats when i cut up
mental relief
that feels so sweet
the pressure is off
for a little cost
just a sharp razor
that i keep close
the mini rush i feel
cannot be matched
my mental stability
is not what it seems
casue it feels so good
having blood ooze in streams
hiding the pain
thats actaully inside
let my have my metal
so i can go and hide

.metallica, manchester 2019... master to whos mastery: whos puppets to whos puppeteering... i have to admire the fact that you have to play the standards... its not like even plagiarism comes into the play, but it must be tiresome to have to continue to play the crowd favorites... no compensation for what's expected as new.... if i were stuck in the rut of replica upon replica... regurgitation upon regurgitation... doesn't this art form tire so easily... who was that poet, who went to bed crying after listening to liszt play? matthew arnold... god i'm freed... all the fame and fortune and also not enough time to make your shadow a friend... one inherited temptation is enough to succumb to facing the subsequent ones... come playing a guitar staged before a horde... or fiddling with my beard in the background without malicious intention... but the poverty of lyricism... sure... blues players and their incessant rhymes... but these modern lyrics? to hell with it: i'm no better... but how can you fathom the stamina to replay, to replay, to replay the horde's echoing boom boom mantra fantaticism? i couldn't do music... rememebering words, contonuing a course for replay of the greatest hits... even if expanding into unwritten new territory was a farce... so what... come the bad with the good and the tabloid quality... but having to "love" your work in order to erode your memory like your standard pedagogy manual... i don't want or would't want to remember my words: half if not a third is hardly worth remembering... to a verbatim suited & booted closure and an opening for poet turned entertainer... i don't see how these people cling onto their nostalgia performances... well: to please the crowd is to please the crowd... ilona (former russian "gif") reminded me when james hetfield opened his mouth: he's such a redneck with that accent... god, this russian loved how i appropriated the english shropshire accent... what was that word she called me? ah.... i was a.... yuppie! then the moscow crowd took out their cigarette lighters and we snogged... god i miss relationships, being in that state of vulnerability... i really miss being vowed to a woman and free-falling into a grace of competent trust without question... now here's me calling out the lost trill surrounding the R in both the snake-bitten english numb "R" (without the trill) and the hark of the Francians... i miss being vulnerable... which is what love feels like... being assured a safety when staging a dangerous theatre scene of... say... free-falling before the parachute... that's love: the ability to feel vulnerable... love is and never was some ******* poetic ideal... of perfecting the "art" of loving... to love was always to feel vulnerable... i really miss that... to love was to trust, it wasn't ever about spewing out amour cliché after another amour cliché... sad news being, i will (probably) ever experience that softness of the heart, always the anchor of the weight of a marble slab... never the emotions derived from the heart, forever bound to the bowels... gut-sensations and the reflexes... never a mind to compensate incompassing reflections and the expansion of time to a fixed space... i once loved... is it better to have loved than to have no loved at all? that's questionable, riddle with... is it better to have lived and died, without the knowledge of pain associated to a brain haemorrhage or with: said knowledge? any man can claim the same: it's horrifying to have to live the rest of your life without the cushion, the bed, the feathers of love where you throw yourself icarus-esque, head-first, as a vulnerable babe... shedding the wolf's mane and softening your heart to escape the rational, reflexive array of emotions derived from the bowels.

guess who's diacritical abstaining from the prose...
      kurwy codzienne
czy te kuchenne... a raczej
               zbyt?
no churrah w mnie i horongiew
       wapnia i kurczu -
i tyle to, by gadać tchu!
pięć łatwych utworów -
you made my mind up to counter...
    i said no to the niqab,
so i said yo- to the -gurt...
and let me franchise it babe....
because when i do i won't be
the Franklin as the heavy heave to a scutter
and rat bound
smartease of a Jefferson's lighbulb...
you get boring
more so with the season...
***** and the farthing: quick-change
to quicken your step,
spelled Tokyo... takes two with reminders:
now pay and wait and pastry-size to
concubine the shadow....
                        of hiding cassette and
the lung to breathe through to gorgon enterprise
of the three-headed alcatraz.
i said score ***** harry
     i said i said it twice... 7070 film...
                  i said it thrice...
i said it a fourth time...
the fifth time i was left the overs,
and america r.i.p.,
and i said: god: just let me be!
you were the 20st century fake in the project act
and it was named kevin spacey....
           and you said drive-by
bygone shoot-out... and i said: hamburger
        tattoo and other things worth
the same idea of gluing **** together...
                         and then the toad's hiccup...
rhapsody of burps...
and then that...
  and then i want to be: martin luther king jr.
and a national holiday icon,
and when i want it... and i gag for it....
and then i die for it...
   and then i hate dying for it.... and
so i earn my living as a plumber....
    and then the nation goes for iraq...
and then i am president and face a q & a...
and i'm like: happy are those
who come with applause...
    because i'm the sole one battered with
with the qualm that might translate
as america bound...
well ye-ha! aren't we the lucky living *******!
then i'm about to pludge-****-and-poach-the-*******-yankees
into a question of: a horn brigade to toll the folding bridge;
scatter skew the next new coercion for a parade...
infantile french be the said: long gone...
germanic kinder less a rhyme,
and more a gas... just gaß... or governor:
that should have been gaś or gaš... but then you're
so ******* boring, it makes sense that you're rič...
because you didn't actually get that part...
to be: clint the runner in western and not
***** 'arry...
say you laugh, you don't say clint eastwood
when you actaully watch al pacino in
dog day afternoon... and 1970s america makes
sense...
             and you won't be able to replay
1960s america... because you can't... and it makes
sense why it all feels filthy and dry these days....
that you believe in recitation as you might
believe in the word regurgitate....
and all you want is horror and a.i.,
    and you will never wake from that dream again...
because there were those not lazing in learning
english, that you were left, so glutton coerced
into learning more anagram of english than french
wasn't...
and sure: you created these games of a language
for the sole reason that you wanted to avoid learning
french or german...
you created games from language
because you felt superior... and you created
these games from language because you said
it wasn't worth saying anything in french...
LAZY, OBSOLETE, MOTHER... *******!
but i say: it would have been easier to learn
german than to invoke the game of anagram...
   but then again... who am i to judge?
              who cares, when there are over a billion
chinese and we are but a case of ****
in asking for the perfumed number?
             i say thank god for the indus and the chinese
with their billionth marking...
    it makes no matter if i'm white
and speak english or german or swede or *******...
     it took just one of us to be as lazy as we were
to leave the rest of us happy in tuning toward
becoming extinct. ha ha... ha ha ha ha ha ha!
well, d'uh! you ******* dodo!

i saw him on a- actaully i dont know when i saw him first. probably late on the second or third day. we missed each other the first day. but i know, when i saw him, he stole away my breath. its such a cliche thing, but just this once i can say im not lying. i watched him on his bike. wide shoulders tan. snapback placed perciaously on his head. i spent the next two days staring at him. watching him leave his campsite each time and watching him return each time for reasons unknown by me. then she came, the third night. we went to the playground. i didnt expect anything to come out of it. but he was there. and my brother, oh wonderful brother, was friends with him. my heart welled. i talked to him for hours that night. i went to bed happy; happier than i've been in awhile. i had talked to him. the campground boy. the boy who stole away my breath. the next day, he came to the field right after us. i know why now; he wanted to get away from his family, i understand where hes coming from. unfortunately. but we spent the day together. then we went in the pool. this is the time my heart sank into the middle of the earth and hasnt come back yet. she flirted. and the worst part, he flirted back. my heart sank even more that night. i watched from the sidelines as they messed around with each other. him finding excuses to touch her. her giggling her boy-attracting giggle. ******* giggle. i went to bed that night, heart sank, never coming back. i will probably never see him again, but i can tell i will probably never be able to let him go fully. he was special. my age. different than the boys i know from school. i just know i will never forget his face, i will try not too. he was the last thing i saw as the car left the campground

I wonder what it was like to be the first humans
I wonder what it was like to see the world so clean, wild,and free.
before skyscrapers and cars
before lights and freight trains.
I bet the first humans listened better
and understood more.
Now we have a robot(siri) conversating with us telling us what to do.
When before we listened to the wind and the stars to tell us our way.
The first humans made there way without a GPS and we get lost in our own
city streets now.
The first humans traveled on foot, drank water from streaming river bends,
and ate whatever they could hunt up on the way.
That life would be great
too be able to  be the first person to name a bird or a snake
OH and what a sight it would be to watch the world as it  grows
and forms like seeing The Grand Canyon when water was actaully all the way to the top of it.
Or seeing the Pyramids Form.
I think that If I was the first human
we would be in a hell of alot better situation then we are now.
The first human could've made the decision for peace and not war
the first person we had was a bad seed
he made the wrong decision that day
and look what that decision has led too
Billions of years
of living with one person
mistake.

You argued
you shouted
I fought back
and you call me the coward?

why do we choose to hurt
when we can decide to heal
why do you have to break my smile
with that mocking laugh

what affects me
actaully affects you more
you choose painful words
when you could choose happy ones

you say you can't help it
give up on yourself
give up on me
before you even tried

words can help
words can hurt
words can heal
words can break

you know I'm not good at using words
the words you so much adore
the one you used to write story's with
the ones which made you happy

That pure smile you once had
that enery who knows from where
it is now locked deep
locked deep and tortured

we hurt each other
I tried my best to stop
maybe you did too
but we were both too stubborn.

our words won't reach
so there are only gestures left
but we are both too far
to be able to reach