School was always humuorous to a degree in my opinion because of the underlying idea
that the more damaged you were, the cooler you were in the eyes of the rest of the school.
I have heard numerous conversations that began with something along the lines of, "Oh, you
think YOU got it bad, well my dad blah blah and my best friend blah blah and my life is hell."

I decided to get a little personal and share with you guys something I have never actually
told anyone in entirety yet. I am pretty sure the whole story is still only here in my brain.
I will, out of respect for these people, change their names.

It's October 31, 2012. It's about noon, and all of us sixteen to twenty-two year olds are just waking up.
Brianne woke up probably a few hours ago already to tend to her son, Aaron. He is adorable, one
and a half, blond hair, blue eyes. I have been living here for nearly two months. I am supporting her,
Aaron, and myself with food stamps. I get two hundred dollars a month to basically smoke **** and drink
on the government's budget. Trust me, I'm not proud of it either, and if I could I would pay it back.
Since Brianne is a single mother and an adopted child, she has a single-digit monthly rent (I was *******
baffled to hear this) and receives support from her foster parents. Basically, if I want to stay here forever
with absolutely no consequences save to miss out on a life of my own, I can.

Brandon is putting on clown make-up so he can troll the streets as a juggalo. I find this amusing as I always
liked to mess around with ICP fans, but he's a really cool kid so I let it go and I even help him perfect it.
I notice he has a bottle of Stolichnaya in his backpack and it's practically full. That, to me, is temptation.
I ask if he would mind me taking a few drinks here and there from the bottle and he says it's fine, so I proceed
to get a nice one p.m. buzz. It was always my favorite drunk, very light, and airy, almost like you're still asleep.
Something bogs you down, but it doesn't bother you, somehow it makes you lighter.

For the rest of the day, we hook up with a few friends, go out and trick or treat in the pouring rain, get soaked
and wait for two hours under an overpass while Brianne goes and gets her car. From there, we proceed home.

At this point, everyone is over at Breanne's and we're all making dinner and drinking beer and having a good time
(Aaron is with the grandparents tonight). I guess I started getting angry about the recent events (for about a month,
everyone in our group with the exception of Brandon have been slowly losing items...but they're obviously being stolen.
At a point, a few of us did some research and determined the only person who could possibly have stolen
a good deal of these things has to be Brandon) and I decided I was tired of sitting on the news waiting for no one to make
a move after a solid two weeks of being certain that we had our guy. So I called him out... and proceeded
to begin burning bridges slowly and very surely for the next few days. I am pretty sure a fight would have broken out
if Bri hadn't taken me into her room to relax. When I finally do, it turns out I woke up the upstairs neighbor,
her baby, and everyone in the house has left save for my friend Jeff and his girlfriend Marissa. This concludes night one.

I later learned that Brandon was not actually the person who was stealing from us (unless of course
he just happened to not get caught when we found out who had done most of it) and I feel bad for bringing the whole
thing up because I would have liked to stay in touch with him. We got along swimmingly and he actually did have
a lot of interesting things to talk about. Smart, nice, hilarious... Well, maybe he'll turn up one day.

The next morning, I woke up to find the house empty save for Jeff and Marissa in the next room, but where I am,
it simply appears empty. I don't know what happened but I intuit that I have been sleeping all night without
my girlfriend. This upsets me and I begin to weep like a confused child, which is exactly what you do when you're
helpless and too drunk in the brain to figure out how to pull yourself out of a helpless situation (trust me,
I own the handbook). Marissa walks in and begins to explain to me that I had scared her too much and she slept
on the couch and that she had left to go pick up her son. So I realize I need to calm down, but I can feel
Jeff is not happy with me in the slightest, considering he will not come and talk to me (this is extremely painful
because he is probably one of the best friends I have ever had, with a mind that vastly exceeds that of everyone
I have met save one other, and he's a different story). They leave and I decide to stay in the house all day.

This is a very bad idea. I stay home, watch re-runs of a show I have seen billions of times, and considering
that Brandon and I are no longer on good terms, like a complete *******, I drink the rest of his *****.

In walks Bri, it's around 7. She's not happy. She proceeds to tell me that the night before I asked out a friend of mine
and she said yes. And I was a bit shocked because I couldn't remember it at first. Then it all hit me.

A few days before, Aaron called me "dad." Now remember, this is not my child. I am dark, dark, dark, and she had this kid
about two years after we had any past relationship. I am extremely worried in my mind and I realize I am headed toward nothing.
That I am stagnant and can not even afford to go back to school. This scares me, so I drunkenly asked out Tanya.

Tanya...we had been friends for about five years, and I had tried to get with her so many **** times... she was like
one of those girls you see and you're instantly reminded of an anime character. Tall, thin, beautiful hips, perfect
proportions, lovely hair, eyes, voice, and a personality I can liken to a Disney princess/black metal lumberjack.
The kind of girl who has a tough exterior, but inside, she just wants someone to tell her everything is going to be ok.

After about two hours of pleading with Bri to let me stay, I finally send Tanya a message, and we hang out for the next
two days, whence I whisper in her ear that everything is going to be okay and we proceed to have quite passionate ***
for those nights, where I discovered the secret to making a woman ****** with my tongue (tip: if the underside of your
tongue isn't completely torn apart, you're doing something wrong). But alas, I could not stay.

This is the part I dreaded, because I know I have to go back to Jeff's house and ask him if I can stay there for a while.
And I got the answer I expected.

The words he used...

"I'm *******...extremely ******* at you, and disappointed." It was like a father saying it to you. And him and I
have a very interesting friendship built on such an extreme understanding that I knew exactly how badly I had been spiraling.
I began to leave and he gave me a slice of pizza, with that slight smile that told me "just go find yourself, we'll be fine."

I hobbled off into the night drunk, with one piece of pizza and all my food at Bri's, which could have lasted me another few days,
easing the transition into homeless. And it could have prevented a horrible occurance that took place the following afternoon. I
was crying, because I knew I was dying, but I didn't want to ask either of my parents for help, because this was the first time
I was out on my own and I was far too proud to give up and let the world make me its victim. So I walked...

Sixteen ******* miles...

To the next town. Took me all night because I was dodging traffic, easing into trees, avoiding on and off ramps, trying to stay
away from any police that may exist on the road. When I finally arrived in the next town (where I knew I may have one contact)
I decided to sleep until the morning came so I could have the energy to find my next venture.

It was five thirty am. I had 3 hours until sun-up, I had just walked enough to be burning, and there was plenty of whiskey in my veins.
I had left my sleeping bag with Tanya hours earlier, wishing in the park that I had not been so naiive as to think I would be allowed
back in the house. So I pulled out a pile of ***** clothes and put them over me like blankets, in some random corner of the local
park, under some bushes, hidden from cold and sight, with great hope...

Fifteen minutes pass. My eyes shoot open. I am freezing. The sweat has dried and frozen to my body. This is hell.

I grab my things and with the worst effort I can ever remember myself mustering, I drag myself to the toilet.
When I open it, the first thing I check for is cleanliness. It's spotless. I am so relieved. I sit in the corner of the room,
which my knees to my chest, head in my hands, wrapped in a leather jacket I had gotten from Jeff (ha, he really is my
guardian angel, though he would laugh to hear it).

I catch winks, occasionally looking up to check if the sun is rising. When it finally is, I get up, change my clothes (I had
ONE clean set of clothing and it had been rotting with the rest in the backpack) and immediately head to a thrift store where
a family friend is working.

On my way there, I notice in a little parking lot near the store a sight I had never actually come across but I always thought
would be the most amazing luck, and it was timed in such a spot in my life that it was the ultimate miracle...and a curse in
disguise.

In front of my eyes (this miracle appeared in my path as I was walking looking down, so it startled me) was the worst possible thing
for me: A half finished fifth of Smirnoff, and a half smoked pack of Marlboro 100 Reds. I open the pack and sure enough, the celophane
protected every cigarette inside from any water damage. I am ecstatic. This is not only amazing, but highly unlikely.

So I down the bottle in one go and take the rest of the smokes with me.

When I arrive at the thrift shop, it turns out I am there on a day when my potential savior is not working, so I get her number from the clerk
and head over to a payphone and realize... I have no money. So I decide to go on a quest for dropped pocket change.

Before I even leave the parking lot, I see a young man, no older than 23, sitting on a nice red classic-style Corvette and he's
reading William S. Burroughs. So naturally, I decide to strike up a conversation with the young man. Turns out he's the nicest guy
and his name is Jordan. So him and I got together and decided to go out for a game of disc golf (some may not know what this is;
Imagine frisbee but with a golf theme, so you need to get from a tee pad into a basket. Really fun, centering, and extremely popular
with potheads, Californians, beer-drinkers, and hippies) and before we go, he asks if I would like to snag a few beers first.

I tell him a piece of my story and he can tell I am down on my luck and broke so he decides to help me out. He buys us both some beer
and we proceed to disk.

Turns out he's an ex-****** and has been through quite a bit of hell himself, so we find that we're in a good position to help each
other make some better decisions in life. After the game, we go over to a payphone and he gives me money to call my friend.

Buzz (this the only name I am not changing because her name is ******* badass) answers the phone and unfortunately informs me that
though she would take me in any day of the year, she just moved in to a house with one older lady she takes care of, and its a single
bedroom apartment, so there is just no way it can work.

So I go back to his car and tell him the news, and he says he thinks he may be able to put me up for a few days until I can sort
everything out. We go back out to the store and grab ourselves a fifth of *****.

We end up in the park playing music, talking, performing standup for one another, and I begin to realize I am drinking too fast,
so I try to ease back a little. He was playing a version of a Radiohead song I had never heard before

"Everyone this way. Okay, get your hands against the wall. Spread your legs. Don't move."
The doors clanking, some ******* won't shut up in the next cell over.
More slamming of doors, someone rubbing my body all over trying to find my knives, no doubt.
And my AK 47 I conceal, and my ****, and my ... oh ****, I really did have **** on me.

"Move forward. Turn around. Alright, go to bed."

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------

"Get up. Come on, slowly... There you go. There's a few more coming in so we got to get you to another cell."

Clank, clank...

"Pick a bed."

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------

Something is wrong. This bed is not covered. There is no comfort. It's just a mat. And I have no pillow. This is not a house
of any sort, my bag isnt what I am sleeping on. Something is very wrong here.

I am in jail. Oh of course.

I know the answer before I hear it, but I ask anyway: "What are my charges, ma'am?"

"Drunk in public."

-------------------------------------------------------­------------------------

I'm about thirty miles or so North of inner Seattle. Not a bad place to be. I'm working for a Safeway. It's somewhere around
the first of June. I receive word that Bri has been on ******. And I may have left at a crucial time in her life thinking
only of myself, but I needed to go somewhere I could be productive. Yet my decision left her in a position where she turned
to hard drugs...

I can't help but feel I am to blame. I am listening to the dull, stupid words of my ex boss, Rod, who is telling me
that even though I may feel like I need to help her, there is nothing I can do for her, so I should bury myself in my work
instead. He tells me this in about six hundred different ways before I leave the room after twenty minutes. Well great.
I may have no focus here at work today, but at least I killed almost a half hour of the day just listening to someone
*******.

I am at a loss of what to do here, but I eventually get a hold of her, and after a long time not talking, we come to
somewhat of a closure, and she is beginning to sober up herself. I realize we were both in incredibly hard times, and I still
wish with all my heart there could have been some way I could have helped her raise that boy and stayed and been her
love, and at the same time, still go to college, and progress and get a good job...but I was in a small Northern California
town. There was nothing left, all the old shops were out of business. It was time for me to move on then, and we have
all seen better days for it. She looks incredible these days by the way. She lost an insane amount of weight, and I know
a lot of it had to do with the drugs, but if she truly is sober like she says she is, she'll be getting much better.

A few weeks ago 3 people I used to know and hang out with died in the span of a week. It was a terrible tragedy, and I have been
thinking back on all the names of people I used to love very, very much before they got lost in some way.

There's Lorne Holly, who killed himself after a few weeks of detoxing from crank.

Layla Harmon, who died in a car crash, blunt head trauma, with a drunk driver (I have a tattoo for this, I will never drive drunk).

Heavy Eagle, who killed himself after years of drug problems.

Chaz Lipman, who died in a car crash as well.

Ren Rain, who I am still not sure about...

And of course, Tray Beraldi, who was my closest friend's cousin... I wish I were there to mourne with him...

Last night I got a text from my best friend, who said he couldn't sleep and he barely eats anything anymore, and he feels like his throat
is going to explode, and he cant swallow and his neck is killing him constantly. He has been this way for a year, and he is talking constantly
about getting a gun and blowing his head off. And no one believes him because he constantly talks about it because he is in so much pain.
No doctor can diagnose him so far, he has no idea what's wrong with him, he's been tested all over the place, he has no hope, he's barely
cligning and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold on.

All I really want to say is

Lord? What I have done? I don't pray, I never pray, I don't even know who I would pray to. But WHAT ELSE DO I HAVE TO DO?!

I bring myself across hell and I pull myself from the worst depression I h

Dear Bri,

My therapist asked me if
I thought I should
Write you a letter for closure
I was confused and said no
I was done with us
Over it
That was a few months ago
I can see now
What she might have seen then
I am carrying a lot of anger
A lot of pain and resentment
Because of the way you treated me
And how victimized you painted yourself
As you shamed me publicly
All over social media
For "cheating" on you when
We definitely have different understandings
Of what constitutes cheating
And then you took it a step further
To spread your delusions about me
When we could've had a conversation

You shamed me so hard at the end
Because "you didn't even know me anymore"
When you clearly didn't know me at all
I told you when we first met
I do not want kids and
I never want to get married
And you were surprised
After year and a half
When you bring it up
And I tell you again
I do not want that life
You cried and said we would be nothing then
So I bought you a ring
I figured, whatever
If we were going to be forever
I might as will compromise
Something you didn't understand much at all
Especially when it came to ***

After we broke up
You wrote me a letter
In it you attacked me for
Never having *** when you wanted
Since you'd have it with me
When you didn't want to
(Something I was very unaware of
And extremely not ok with)
Apparently I should've done the same
But I didn't want *** if you didn't
I could've ******* myself if that were the case
I didn't ask you to do that for me
I wish you didn't
Because love isn't about *** frequency
It's more about communication
And honesty
And I'm not perfect at that
But I tried

When I sent you an article
About why I avoid ***
Due to a ****** assault
You got mad at me
"What am I supposed to do,
Just wait until you're ready?"
Yes.
If you respected me
Then you would

And when I talked to you about
My interest in polyamory
You didn't give me a chance
To even discuss it more
You immediately said no
And that was that
You said you wouldn't change your mind
Which I should have known since
When I became friends with
A member of the church do you dragged me to
(Even though I'm an atheist)
You were mad because they were poly
And you didn't want me "getting any ideas"
And when that approach didn't work
You claimed that my being friends with them
Conflicted with your friendship with another member
Because they were connected negatively through an ex
Because we can't have our own friends?

But that's exactly what I needed
Because you shamed me so hard
For the things I care about most
That I lost myself in us
I no longer existed
Because I was "too radical"

So you didn't really love me
Because you didn't know me
You loved who you made me
Or whoever you saw in your mind
And somehow you were surprised
When I decided to leave
Because of course you did nothing wrong
But I was suffocating
So I left to explore myself
And my potential polyamorous identity

But then you were willing to try it
You didn't want to lose me
So you said you'd try an open relationship
But
Only under strict guidelines
And if I didn't agree to them
You wouldn't try
You called it "compromise"
But there's a huge difference
Between boundaries
And rules
That's not how polyamory thrives
So I left.

And a few months later
We talked about it again
You gave me more rules
"No other romantic partners "
Which would've required me
To leave who I was presently seeing
Just to have *** with randoms
And commit emotionally
Only to you
But I also had to agree
To eventually move up north with you
Regardless of my own life aspirations
Because I never really mattered to you
Only the fake picture you had of me

And all of those rules
Occurred while you simultaneously
Shamed polyamory
And me for wanting it
Because "I just didn't want to commit"
It is "an abomination"
"Disgusting"
Just because you didn't understand it
Because you were afraid of it

You didn't understand me
But you "loved" me
And you were the victim
Right?
I'm not saying I'm not at fault
But you are too

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fathandsbangrag

The fun I had at my new school




You see as I entered my new school, I was given the red carpet
By a friend who grabbed me by the neck and gave me tickle torture
And some of the older girls were saying keep away from me Brian Allan
And just muck with the boys, and then after that I listened to the 70s and 80s
Music on the boom box and I really wanted to hear it, he played songs from
AC/DC, and also from the red hot chilli peppers, and even the best from Billy
Ray Cyrus, and then some of the other boys spoke to me about going bowling
And others spoke to me about getting playboys, and also after that the girls
Were teasing me because I went to bed early, but I wanted to function
Well, so I can feel good and also some of the other families picked on me
Just because I was playing outside with my brother, especially when I was having fun
Playing football, you see back in my previous life, I played in the SANFL and
I don't have to worry about not playing footy in this life and I hear everybody treating
Me like an old fucken fogie, just because I want to go to bed abd get ready for work,
You see my friends are saying to me, through houses, things like, imagine what I would say
If I,,,, and he was so determined to treat me like a koomarri man,,even if I am still cool
And I know if he is still trying to tease me like that, he is living in 1987, where he is looking like a total ****** fucken ******, even if he ain't really saying it, but if he is, it just goes to show, that he is still living back in 1987, where he was actually very hip, but as a natural
Fact, dudes, I don't ever see him out, so I don't want to worry about lasers like him anymore, because, really, yes we had fun times, but, I mean, I have to move on, and if I don't see him again, well, dudes, so be it, he was fun, but I ain't jittering for him, no fucken way, I see visions of him trying to contact my brother through houses, and saying the kinds of things he said to me, he said, mate, don't be like Brian lately, I don't want to teaee Brian really, it just that he is unaware of the kind of old fogie, we treated him like, and also, I ain't a yeah mate yeah kid either, cause if he doesn't answer the phone, which I won't, it's his choice, you see, sometimes when he was young, he was too shy, and I wouldn't mind him hanging with me, but, he seemed to enjoy the family life better, but I never realised he didn't like Lyle, but, no, I don't think he is like Lyle, I want him to go to bed, because, if he works, he needs to sleep, to get rid of any sign of tiredness to face the day at work, you see, sometimes I hear my father and mother teasing me, because I am obsessed with evercise, and also I am obsessed with arty things, and I know dad isn't into art, but also Pat wasn't into art either, but I only want to muck with adults with an interest in art and not the rich ones, I am very interested in having art exhibitions showing off al, my art, and also I know what all my art is about, and a lot if it, is the fun times I had with my friends at school, I love art and I love to put on an art exhibition, and I want people to understand me for the artist I am now, and not the ****** I was in the past. I am aware that people are teasing me, but you can teaee me all you like, but who gives a flying ****, oh yeah, dudes, get ******, mate, get ****** mate yeah man, as you go down the dunny can, and that girl says, we're not mucking with you Brian Allan, no Brian Allan, we're not mucking with you, and the Canberra crowd says, your still like the kids, man,,don't try and be like us, I don't wanna do that again, neh, your still like us, ya ****** buddy, Bri,  urn, so sit there Bri,    Urn and do your stories, you see mate, your still not like us, mate, you are still an old fogie, cause you keep leaving me on my lonesome , and I will say, come on, you poor little baby, I am leaving you on your own, what's wrong little Patty, are you worried that I am not mucking with you, I went to pubs and danced with the chicks, I am still a ******, dude but I don't care, come on Patty, call me a loser, come on mate, call me a loser, come on mate, call me a loser, and then Pat says, I might kidnap him in a minute, but It was only Pats voice, in fact, it was Steven Bradley, who
Noticed my last life, Graham Thorne, jittering for his sister like a boy, and Steven Bradley has kept me in, so I wouldn't be a young dude, you see he went, trying to be a young dude, trying to be a young dude,,trying to be a young dude, cause you are still a ****** man,
So sit there, Bri.   Urn and don't move a muscle, you ain't a young dude anymore, so u don't want to tease you Bri. Urn, I just want you to lighten up a bit, because, get ****** buddy, yeah yer mate, your like us, but I might yell out get ****** Brian every time he jitters from now on, especially at work, but he is allowed to have music on, but, you know, mate, we ain't really teasing him, and  don't want to tease him, by ringing him up, cause I have a hunch that he gathers it might have been me, who rang him up, but, mate he wasn't like Lyle then,,but I was treating him like a mummys boy, because he is too shy to leave him home, but I heard that he might've moved out when I rang him up,,  I the hell would I know, we don't see much of each other much, you see, jt's nice to live on our own, but you should still go to bed when your tired, and you should make new friends,, and yes, you should talk about cooler things than just about people, but really, we just don't really want you to tell us your life story, but if you a creative keep it up, we're adults now, your cool


Sent from my iPhone

MY GRANNY IS HAYLEY FROM THE BRATAYLEY YOUTUBE SITE

YOU SEE, IVY GIMBERT WHO WAS MY GRANNY, LEFT HER LIFE

IN JANUARY 2004, WHEN I WAS SICK, AND RE ENTERED THE WORLD

AS ANNA IN BRATAYLEY, YOU SEE WHAT MY GRAN IS HOPING

TO ACHIEVE, IS HER GRANDSONS ALL OVER AUSTRALIA

WILL WATCH HER VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE, YOU SEE YOUTUBE STARTED

IN 2004, AND BUDDHA MADE IVY ANNA BECAUSE, THIS IS A WAY

TO REFORM MY EVIL JINGLES LIKE OOPS PLEASE KIDNAP CHRIS

YA KNOW TAKE HIM HOSTAGE TIE HIM UP AND, ANOTHER THING TOO

BUDDHA, WANTED FOR MY GRAN TO BE A HIT IN CYBER SPACE

SO GRAN AND NAN, CAN BE TWO INTERNET SENSATIONS, YOU

SEE NAN IS JOHN ROBERT RIMEL, GRAN IS ANNE, AND ANNE

IS THE OLDEST SISTER, I AM SURE, GRAN IS TRYING TO SHOW

HOW SHE ACTUALLY WAS, BECAUSE, A LOT OF PEOPLE REMEMBER

HER BRI URN, AND ME TRYING TO SHOWSHE IS LIKE  LIKE THE BIG KIDS, BUT BUDDHA REALLY

THOUGHT, IT’LL BE HEAPS BETTER TO PUT IVY INTO ANOTHER GIRL

YEAH, THIS WILL BE FUN SAID IVY, AND IVY WAS PLAYING AROUND IN CYBER SPACE

WITH NAN AND GRAN, AND THEY STARTED UP THESE CLUBS UP IS SPACE

WHERE I CAN PLAY AND HAVE FUN, YOU SEE GRAN IS A BIT DIFFERENT AS SHE

IS GOOFING AROUND AND NAN, IS A 14 YEAR OLD SINGER, SHOWING OFF HER

CREATIVITY WITH THE GUITAR, THROUGH JOHN ROBERT RIMEL, AND, AT PRESENT

HAYLEY IS ENJOYING BEING THE CENTRE OF ATTENTION WITH HER SISTER ANNIE,WHO IS GRAN

AND BROTHER CALEB WHO IS PETER SARGENT, A FORMER KEANE PLACE KID WHO KILLED HIMSELF

WHO DIED IN A CAR ACCIDENT, AND THESE 3 KIDS ARE KNOWN AS THE BRATS, WHILE JOHN

ROBERT RIMEL IS WORKING ON BEING A MUSICIAN, AND THE REASON WHY I KNOW THIS IS

BRIAN ALLAN IN CANBERRA IS CRONUS, AND WATCHES EVERY LIFE, GO FROM DEATH OF LAST LIFE

TO BIRTH OF NEW LIFE, CURRENTLY I AM KEEPING OUR FAMILY TOGETHER, THROUGH BUDDHISM

YA SEE, I HAVE A SPECIAL GIFT, OF BEING THERE IN PREVIOUS LIVES, MY VOICES ARE THE AFTERLIFE

I CAN’T HELP IT, IF I AM CRONUS, DUDES, AND IN 2003 I WAS SICK, WHEN I WISHED GRAN DEAD, I DIDN’T MEAN TO

BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU, BUDDHA TOOK CRONUS OFF ME, SO I CAN THINK ABOUT MY SPECIAL GIFT OF LIFE

BUT I MUST BE CAREFUL, THE INTERNET AND SOCIAL MEDIA, ARE THE BEST WAYS OF GETTING YOUR STORY OUT

MY GRAN IS ANNE FROM BRATAYLEY NAN IS JOHN ROBERT RIMEL, DAD IS ELIZABETH CAMPBELL,

MARK JONES IS SUPERSONIC 3 YEAR OLD LIAM, AND THERE ARE HEAPS MORE TO NAME

MY GRAN REALLY ENJOYS BEING HAYLEY, YA SEE IT’S HER FAVOURITE

THE PARTY IN THE AFTERLIFE, WITH IVY GIMBERT, MAKING THE WIGS AN IN THING, AND A CHEAP WAY

FOR BRIAN TO BE CREATIVE, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH BRIAN’S TAPESTRIES

AND IVY’S NEXT LIFE ANNE'S FAMILY HAD A PINK HAIR WIG, JUST LIKE MY SUSIE WIG

AND MY GRANDMA WHEN SHE SAYS BRIAN’S LIKE US, COULD SHE MEANS ONE OF THE CREATIVE FAMILIES

I AM PARANORMAL, I CAN’T HELP IT’S A BELIEF

Dear Bri,

I've put this letter off the longest
Because it doesn't come from anger
And although it may resemble it
It does not come from regret either
This letter just comes from my soul
From me
From a place I can finally trust

This letter differs from the rest
Because I want it to be a mix
Between explanation and closure
And the others I didn't want them to read
But part of me hopes you do see this
I just finally think I understand
Why I had to leave

First of all
I never used you
Not one time
You learned that I'm fiercely independent
And I hope you know it was never
Ever
Ever
About money for me
Or about your home town
Or your fathers property
No that relationship was about love
I loved you

See, the thing about love
The thing I didn't know about
Was that it changes over time
There are not always sparks
Even so, those fade eventually
And from there you must create deeper ties
Connect to one another on a new level
That is the point at which I failed

I know you hated how
I always explained my behavior by my past
And for that I am not sorry
What I am sorry for is the fact that
I did not step up
I did not know how to grow with life
How to let go of the pain
How to move forward
Instead I hid the pain behind drugs
Legal and prescribed
And behind other people's affection
I pushed away the pain
Because it hurt way too much
I was not ready to face it
I had no idea how to do that
And by not accepting my real feelings
I not only blunted the unhelpful ones
But the pleasant ones as well

By not dealing with my past
By not allowing myself to heal
I could not have allowed myself
To love you

It's been over a week since
I wrote the first half of this
It's hard to find the right words
It's hard to open my heart
On something so sensitive
As a love that I ended prematurely
I want to let you go though
We both deserve to be happy again
And I am, most days
But I need to acknowledge my heart
Allow myself to be sad one last time
I want to be entirely honest with you

You've been the hardest person
For me to let go of recently
Now that you live in town again
I think about you a lot
When I'm driving through campus
Past the engineering building
When I'm walking back to my car
Memories constantly surface of us
Like when you left that phone number
On the windshield of my car
And it was to some Pizza Hut in DC
Or driving through the town where we lived
Surrounded by white snow
Singing different parts to Pentatonix
Or when we spent Christmas with your family
And we connected through the calm of a place
So far from the city
As we chopped down a tree and
Played video games under warm blankets
Or even when we sat on the edge of a cliff in St. Francis
And I told you I felt nothing when we kissed
So so many memories
Of love
Of pain
Of a connection
Of my best friend

And it's not that I want to be together again
We are very different people and
I really am happy again
And I don't want to make you sad
Or make you feel anything bad
Because no matter what I care about you
I just need to reprocess everything
With the recognition that
That relationship would have lasted
If, back then,
I were the person I am now

See,
We may have been entirely different
And we definitely had our issues
But you were right when you said
That I couldn't commit
Because I couldn't commit to myself either

I couldn't love myself
I couldn't believe in myself
I couldn't process the trauma
I had no idea how to
I didn't know what to do
I felt only pain all of the time
Underneath everything else
I always had a sadness hanging onto me
I was emotionally unavailable
I didn't know how to love
I didn't know what love meant
Because I never loved myself
And I don't believe that line
That you can't love someone else
Until you love yourself first
But it sure makes it easier

Back then,
I didn't trust myself
So I let everyone else lead my life
I never questioned the path either
I just accepted life as it was
Because I didn't believe that I could change it
Which leaked into our relationship
Because if there was something I needed
Or something I was unhappy with
I could have tried to talk about it
I made the choice not to

I used to self-sabotage a lot
Before I realized that I didn't have to
I could feel those urges anytime
But that did not mean I had to carry them out
I lived entirely by my emotions at that time
When I was sad, nothing could be positive
When I was angry, I had to let it out
I did not even consider that
My actions and my emotions
Are two entirely different things

I have grown so much since then
I'd like to hope you'd be proud
Because despite anything I've said or done
I still care about how you feel
And how you see me
I'm always tempted to check your writing
But now I can distinguish between
My helpful and unhelpful urges
So I do not allow myself to try
You deserve your privacy
And I deserve to not let these residual feelings
Interfere with my life now

I just want you to know that
I messed up when I hurt you
I made a choice for us both
Instead of sitting down together
To talk and figure out how we both felt
I don't think I could have figured myself out
If I hadn't left when I did

Because since then
I went through a toxic relationship
That empowered me almost as much as it broke me
And I hurt some people along the way too
I thought I loved people I really didn't
I did acid and developed positive habits as a result
I actually take care of myself now
And most of the time I like myself
Often I even love myself
I stopped doing drugs
I finally trust myself and
I listened to myself for once
And I'm changing my career path now
I learned to be mindful of my feelings
And to not take them out on those I love
I learned what love means
I developed more compassion
I learned to be assertive
And entirely honest and real
I learned who I am

And now I'm here
An entirely different person
Writing a final letter to you
A person who I loved
Who's also entirely different now
But someone who could have been my forever
Once upon a time

But I'd like to believe in fate
And trust that all of this
Is exactly what needed to happen
For both of us to grow into ourselves
And I can't speak for you
But you will always be in my heart
Thank you for the years we spent together
Thank you for teaching me that life isn't all bad
Thank you for being there for me
For being patient and kind and for loving me
Thank you for being you
I truly hope that you find happiness
I wish you peace and love
And everything good
And I wish the same for me

Stevieg and Karen you could feel the heat, of
the fire that is. Looking in to each others
eyes as both recited soppy love poetry. I'll
write you a song let us walk in the woods
suggested Stevie.G.  

As they entered a deserted
hotel  Stevieg did change from who he used to
be as a piano could be heard by Karen  is that
the shining in G major?  As Stevieg  grabbed a
fire axe ******* screamed Karen as he came
running, in a room she did hide kneeling down
nervously, then the axe hit the door repeatedly,
as it began to splinter the final blow and through
a head came screaming HERE'S STEVIEG.. with
.a final scream the axe was buried deep, Stevieg  
ran to the camp Tadpole asking whats that on
your shirt, corn syrup he said nervously.

Lolly was talking to tadpole about the Sons of Anarchy,
I was biker once said tadpole would you like to see
how I ride? blushing Lolly said sorry Charlie Hunnam
is the only ride I want on me. Tadpole and Stevieg
followed by Bri Mar a little too drunk now went
skinny dipping as it was a lake and free. All laughed
as they hadn’t done anything like this since there
teens asking Lolly to join in but Charlie Hunnam
turned up and said you ready for that ride? A
smile from Lolly could be seen.

Swimming
drunkenly around but in the distance could be
heard a song. The jaws music this could not be.
It grew louder they swam for the shore as Tadpole
sank beneath the water now red as the two
thrashed fiercely but then Bri Mar disappeared
as he screamed ******* FISHY.. Stevieg was
about to climb ashore thinking he’d survived but
there was one more surprise as he was kicked
in to the water by Jambo the last words he heard
that’s what happens when you disagree with
me, then jaws opened wide the shark swallowed
him whole never again to be seen.



**TUNE IN FOR THE FINALE TOMORROW

...and then she hugs me closer to her
where her scents intoxicate me,
fate decrees and I agree
its been a lovely
day.

THE SUDDEN MOMENT OF BEING KIDNAPPED BY THE DEAD



YOU SEE OSAMA BIN LADEN AND RONNIE BIGGS, SACKED TED BUNDY, BECAUSE HIS EARTH BODY

WAS TRYING TO BE NICE, SO OSAMA AND RONNIE GRABBED PAUL BERENYI AND BRIAN ALLAN

AND FLEW THEM AROUND THE PLANET JUPITER *******, AND BROUGHT ON WILD WEATHER

IN NSW, AND TRAP SO MANY PEOPLE, YOU SEE OSAMA AND RONNIE STRAPPED PAUL AND BRIAN

TO A ROBOTIC DEVICE, AND MOVING 5000 MILE PER HOUR, BRIAN AND PAUL SCREAMED CAUSE

NEITHER OF THEM WANTED TO BE KIDNAPPED TOGETHER, LET ALONE AT ALL, AND THEN, RONNIE BIGGS

GOT HIS TRAIN WHISTLE, HOWDY PARTNER, HOWDY PARTNER, I HAVE BRIAN ALLAN AND PAUL BERENYI

BOTH *******, NEVER TO ESCAPE, AND PAUL, TRIED TO DO A MIGHTY LEAP, OVER TO TWO MOONS, BUT

FAILED AS HIS LEGS ARE SO TIGHT ON HIS STRETCHER, AS ADAM WALSH, IS STILL STRAPPED TO THE SUN

THIS IS SWEET REVENGE FOR BRIAN AND PAUL, AS THEY ARE TRYING TO GET OUT OF THERE, YOU SEE

OSAMA SAID, YOUR KIDNAPPER IS DYING SLOWLY BUT SURELY, YA SEE BRIAN ALLAN HEH HEH HEH

YOU WILL NEVER GET OUT OF HERE, AND BRIAN AND PAUL WERE SCREAMING, AND THIS IS GOING TO

BE HARD AS *******, CAUSE BRIAN IS DETERMINED TO RID THESE EVIL VOICES, AND STOP ERECTIONS

IN HIS ****, WHEN HE SEES A KID, OSAMA SAYS, BRIAN ALLAN AND PAUL BERENYI AE WITH ME, THEY ARE WITH

US, WE’LL NEVER LET THEM GO, PAUL SAID, I WANT YOU REFORM OUR WAY BRI=URN AND THEN BRIAN SAID, MY MATE

PAT FROWNED AT MY GRANDMOTHER, BUT IT WAS IN GOOD CONVERSATION, HE WAS A NICE GUY, AND WHETHER OPEOPLE TEASE ME OR NOT

I SAY, TO MY VOICES, TEASE ME ALL YA WANT, AND OSAMA SAYS, NEH, KEEP BRIAN ALLAN AND PAUL BERENYI

FLYING AROUND JUPITER, ABOUT 400 TIMES, AND BRIAN ALLAN, WHO BELIEVES IN THE PARANORMAL, BELIEVES

HIS SPIRIT CAN BE BROKEN UP IN 23 PIECES, IN ORDER TO NOT DIE FROM UNLEASHING THE KIDNAPPER FROM WITHIN,

BRIAN ALLAN THOUGHT, WELL, OK, I NEVER KILLED A KID, OR BRUTALLY BASHED SOMEBODY, BUT I COULD’VE HAVE KIDS

OF MY OWN, IF I WAS TO GET PAST, MY **** GETTING AN *******, FROM LOOKING AT LEGS OF YOUNG KIDS, I FIND

THIS HARD, AS, I AM BEING TEASED, AS I WRITE, YOU SEE, AS I TYPE, THE PARANORMAL FEEL, OF ME, GETTING WEIRD DELLUSIONS

OF MY OLD MATES HAND PUSHING ME AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER, EVEN THOUGH I LIKE COMPUTERS, A LOT

YOU SEE, YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL, OF OSAMA BIN LADEN, HE COULD WRECK, ALL POSITIVE PARANORMAL ACTIVITY

AND IF HE HAS HIS WAY, NOBODY WILL BE SAVED, AND AS BRIAN IS TRYING TO GET FREE, BUT OSAMA SAID, WE WANT YOU TO STOP

YOUR ERECTED ****, I HAVE AMAJOR PLAN, TO CHOP IT OFF, BUT THEN BRIAN SCREAMED SO LOUDLY, ******* ******* OSAMA

YOU SEE, AT PRESENT, BRIAN ALLAN, IS FORCED TO BE A SHY OLD FOGIE, AS HIS CRACKED FEET ARE REALLY HURTING, AND BRIAN

IS GETTING SILLY DELLUSIONS, OF THE PARANORMAL, TAKING HIM FROM THE SIMPLE LIFE, AND REALLY MAKING BRIAN ALLAN STRUGGLE ON EARTH,

GIVING BRIAN ALLAN NO ENERGY, FORCING OLD MATES SAY, I AM NOT YA DADDY, I AM NOT YA FUCKEN LITTLE DADDY, BRIANY

AND, THE WAY OSAMA MADE BRIAN ALLAN STRUGGLE, BY TAKING HIS HAPPY BODY, BUT BRIAN ALLAN, SAID, DO THIS, TAKE ME

I WILL PREFER YOU TO DO ALL PARANORMAL THINGS WITH ME, I CAN TAKE IT, DUDES, YOU SEE, I USED TO ASK PEOPLE ON THE STREET

TO KIDNAP ME, MEANING I HATED MY DAD TREATING NE LIKE A LITTLE SHY BOY, AND BECAUSE OF THAT, I BECAME MORE RELUCTANT

TO TALK LIKE A SILLY KID, BUT I HATED MY DAD LAUGHING AT ME,  I TOLD HIM TO SHUT UP, LIKE AN ANGRY ROBBER, DAD AND MUM WERE

SICK OF ME, THEY CALLED IN A POLICEMAN, TO STAND OVER ME, AND IT WAS CLEAR FROM THAT DAY, THEY THOUGHT I WAS NEVER

CUT OUT TO BE LIKE THEM, I KNOW, I AM A MESSY KID AN ADULT, I TRIED TO BE NICE TO MUM AND DAD, BY WRITING STORIES OUT OF MY HEAD

AND I STARTED WRITING STORIES OF DESTRUCTION, DAD NEVER LIKED THOSE STORIES, AND TOLD ME, THESE STORIES AIN’T NICE, BUT, ME

I WAS WRITING STUFF OUT OF ME, THE CANBERRA CROWD, EVEN THE YOBBOS, ARE MORE SUPPORTIVE THAN MUM AND DAD, MUM HATED ME USING NAMES

DAD HATED DUDE USED IN STORIES, YOU SEE I CAN’T BE THE (QUOTEY FINGERS) SORT OF MAN, THAT THEY WANT ME TO BE, SURE I NEVER HAD ***

BUT IT WASN’T MUM AND IT WASN’T DAD, IT WAS I WAS GETTING A BAZ FROM KIDS, I AM NO PHEADPHILE OR MEN MY OWN AGE, I AM NOT GAY

I DO GET ERECTED ***** ON WOMEN, BUT MAINLY WITH KIDNAPPING THOUGHTS, AND I AM NO KIDNAPPER, AND BRIAN WAS SAYING ALL THIS STRAPPED TO A ROLLERCOASTER

GOING UP AND DOWN UP AND DOWN JUPITER, AND PAUL BERENYI, WAS ALSO SCARED, BUT SEEING HE WAS DEAD, HE DIDN’T HAVE TO REPASY HIS DEBT

YOU SEE PAUL BERENYI, KEPT TRYING TO GET THE POSTER FROM MY TV WEEK, AND ALSO HE PUT HIS HAND ON MY SHOULDER, ON AN AREA WHERE IT HURTS LIKE ANYTHING

AND HE SHOWED INTEREST IN A SCHOOL PROJECT, JUST TO PUT A DRAWING PIN UP MY ***, AND I HATED THAT, MIND YOU, IT DID STOP, BUT I DON’T WANT TO

START IT UP AGAIN, SO WHAT I AM DOING IS HELPING THE HOMELESS GET INTO HOMES, LIKE THE CANBERRA REX HOTEL AND TURN IT INTO HOMELESS HOTEL

AND PUT A BAR AND BISTRO, AS WELL AS DOCTORS AND DENTISTS AND LAUNDRY ROOMS ROUND THE CLOCK CLEANING CARE AND CHEAP ROOM SERVICE

AND AS OSAMA BIN LADEN AND RONNIE BIGGS, TOOK PAUL BERENYI AND BRIAN ALLAN TO SYDNEY, AND CAUSE THOSE VIOLENT STORMS, THE WORST OF IT IS OVER

AND BRIAN’S KIDNAPPER IS DYING, AND PAUL BERENYI AND BRIAN ALLAN WENT BACK TO THE SUN, WILL THEY BE SAVED BY THE POWERS OF ATHENA

.and very much so:
the royal albert hall... is not where you'd go
to watch ballet...
      unless you were going to watch...
an enlarged centipede pretend to stampede
on a treadmill...

high-brow my ***...
         because iron maiden's phantom
of the opera... did... does... predate...
andrew webber's stab...
                 hard rock 'ammer...
       as in... a paul di'anno bitchboy
                 scant-gimpwhore fan... etc.
the castrato operatics... later...
n'ah...               but that's oh so much
an origins story...
                    and hardly the evolution...

- that the phantom of the opera stands on
a skeleton of three songs...
revised...                morphing...

perhaps not, not that they are songs...
i'd have to sharpen my scalpel for
attempting the smithy deeds on words...

a skeleton of three themes...
       thus noted:

               "angel of music"
            "phantom of the opera"
    and... last but not least:
                     "masquerade"...

what a day... or what wasn't expected...
no one ever told me that:
a musical per se... differs so much from
a musical: for the stage...

by musical...
                 i'd be shaking to conjure up...
the screen musicals of a west side story...
etc. -

            and one can easily so tire of
this trap...

  and what of the internal jokes?
jokes at the expense of the opera...
              - poor fool, he makes me laugh
       - hannibal...
quite the jokes...
   having to draw the blood from
the mundane talk elevated to an operatic
context of song...

that a musical is... somehow...
when opera can be reduced to talk...
and can be thus reduced to:
the joker in a hand of poker...
   a whimsical little card...

the 25th anniversery of the phantom
at the royal opera house...
one can somehow forgive the electronic
attaches of the overture...
whether the electric guitar of the drum
machine...

   like one can forgive:
                 nirvana's unplugged...
at the end though...
   even andrew webber looks perplexed /
nervous... how did we get away with this?
i don't know:
the only style of genre that...
actually requires a stage and props...
and ample volume of space!
a theatre: since otherwise...
opera: pure technique...
                and prop minimalism...

and...

because can a musical: not require a stage?
does it indeed feed too many images
that need to be attired with quacks...
with feathers... with leather boots and chandeliers?!

now i'll toast! i'll toast to a new reason
to go down the alleys of ah bit tipsy:
itsy bitsy sniffing a bottle neck...
bloated from a champagne cork pop!

truly... if only the stage...
   that allowance to perform a performance
a need to perfect: always never:
the editor in charge...
   all those out-takes left to what life is
left behind the curtain...

     the musical of the movies of h'america...
whatever they might be...
to name but a few would be best...
           and if i didn't first see the phatom
on a television screen...
but in its natural environment:
with the volume of required air...
     i wouldn't have been able to choke
my tears...

and i have seen the theatre
and i have seen the opera
and the ballet...
                            i sometimes...
"sometimes": wearisome...
try to forget the maggot pit of phelgm,
sweat and ***** of a rock concert...
        of all the mediums...
         this jumbled up swedish table platter...
what a cocktail of a rollercoaster!

i could forever take off my garments
of jealousy: of which there's that pitiable
affair of a beard-envy...
                well...
                           well well...

how pristine: they even had a music-box!
in that crude relief of finding
"revisions" and alt. interpretations
of... perhaps it's only a matter of
two themes and that overture?

             and if it's song and dance...
       it's not a candy-smiles and tap-dancing buffet...
it's opera and ballet...
because... it's opera:
                 ha! empty these cupboards!
no one needs to attend an opera
like a foreign language movie:
with subtitles running on a FTSE100
reel above the stage...

                      the musical: is the reinvention
of the opera... a musical is an opera...
with mild added animation of theatre...
and there's a pinch of ballet!

          this will most certainly not translate
into me liking cats... or les misérables...
       this will do...
                   sing-along / sing-through?
and everyone is, suddenly... equipped with
a deciphering ear to translate the over-infuated
vowels of an operatic breath?!

- and very much so:
the royal albert hall... is not where you'd go
to watch ballet...
      unless you were going to watch...
an enlarged centipede pretend to stampede
on a treadmill...

- but if someone would tell you...
a musical... west side story? yes?
     i'm pretty sure it would be all about:
singin' in the rain... fair enough...
             but all for that popcorn entertainment...
and the tap-dancing...
and chewing-gum advert smiles...
and all that technicolour dabbling...
and all those heavily bothersome editing
processes... like... the plumbers
most associated with veins and arteries?
sorry: the romanians are picking the fruit
and veg for the next: x-factor star...
the next youtube vlogger breakthrough chart
topper...

blunt and ******* obvious...
      and how has english changed since Dickens?
i made a note of...
because i will not make notes
of what's already passed...
a direct etymological association with a loan,
word...
  not from dutch, german or french...

       SA-LU-BRI-OUS
            (healthy...)

                   PER-EM-PTO-RILY...
         (not being permitted a denial)

that 19th century victorian english that...
just had to loan words directly from
latin... this much of reading Dickens remains
in me... after having just experienced
a blitzkrieg of a musical: proper...

there are still the same old nooks 'n' crannies
for me to find shadows and moths
in...

    because: i am most certainly the one
about to cite: they took away my circuses!
and m'ah bread!
there's no football! well... no football?
goodness me! what are, what are...
the alternatives?!

         opera you can... disregard...
theatre if... movies are your...
ahem... sartre's curiosity with the keyhole...
voyeurism: to exist is to be seen...
but only through a keyhole...
                     which movies aren't, of course!
the editor comes in...
even in the golden age of cinema...
the panoramic view... resembled a stage...
and in the old movies you could
time... the editor taking charge...
and how long it would take for
the actors to forget their lines...

            not that that matters... given...
there's no stage... but the red carpet
of postures and toothpaste adverts...
and paparazzi *** epilepsy from the strobe
glitter ball of the leeches congregating!
not even vultures make such a spectacle!
i saw the same...
then the concrete was layered with enough
frost at night...
the crevices would become impregnated
with diamonds of ice...
every twist of the head would
agitate these sparkles toward imitation
of a flash!

there's a "musical": in the advent of the h'american
sense... and there's: a musical...

- and if you happen to hear a subtle joke
by evelyn waugh in the meantime:
at the better for you...
              what is an encyclopedic "ogling"
within the confines of scrutiny:
that man may forever be attired...
and the genitals just dangling like
champagne flutes without any,
any sort of, scrutiny of...
not having to play the Oedipus!

               here's a fork... here's a donkey...
here's a spoon... here's the Schleswig-Holstein
and its siege of Westerplatte!
here!
   the Schleswig-Holstein tenor of
                           the opera: Westerplatte...
oh joy: a "my" in a "history"...
and none of it an affair that might...
disturb the peaceful lives
of those lived: under the splendour
of a charles II and a handel firework's music
to have to somehow: "put out"!

clearly: i'll be dying from the ******
of all the collective forces of the universe
and gambling and... oopsies...
i am here... and it's not that sort of grey...
pistons assured!
- had i the face of beauty...
beside starring as a tadpole of potential...
a voice with a stage to make outlet with...

- what could ever become of this...
jigsaw puzzling overdue do...
                         the narrative in the classical sense:
hardly what, and what not:
this vector and the in-between
from some mythical (a) toward a journalism,
and weekend opinion pieces...
and all that insomnia riddled "journalism"
of the current year of crux denoted with
a (b)...

               all true: from darwin and the "big bang"...
and of course... time shrinking...
in between... beside carbon dating...
and let us not hear of things speak
for themselves: but ourselves!
untrue! hercules!
untrue! prometheus!
untrue untrue untrue!
but darwin and the ape: nod! gentlemen!
we have proof!
myth or no myth: but a journalistic integrity!
that's enough proof! for today and tomorrow!
and... what's not the fiction that's already
memory?

and what is... this imagination that's...
not a single street witnessed of Paris
in the circa of the year that was... 2004...
or 2006 or 2007...
                      
for the art... and this detail of science that
once upon a time shocked...
now... only comes... burdensome...
a ballet on ice... a shaking of hands with
a shadow... something beside this:
base revision of culture and civilization:
this bogus lopsided quest for:
re-inventing... nothing more... than a zoo!

so little must have happened in the case
of english history...
this hannibal and the mountains...
but what curtain: the great wall of china:
built among the mountains...
ingenious: doubling-up?
  xerxes whipping the waves of the aegean...
the great wall of *****-chewing-wall'ah...
i dare become the new albino...
i dare... and i the next japanese porcelain
frailty...
               many thanks: for the <caugh caugh>...
hooray!

              oh my mother:
the cindarella of nations of europe...
         i seriously can't do much worse than
that cocktail and carboot sale of tchaikovsky's
1812 overture...
   it's an overture!
              
really? the phantom of the opera is because...
of the overture?
last time i heard... prokofiev's lieutenant kijé
(kij - stick... kije... sticks)...
romance... was all a rave! "rave"...
              a nibbling at a crescendo...
    but hardly: then again: a nomad chorus...
a reminiscence... a memory lost: yet foretold...

and if... the anonymous provider...
of the full extent of the carmina burana...
      what if?
        i play... this cliche... this... my most
democratic oath: for the bettering of the voice
that could allow the congregation of
the many! my democratic oath: my quasi:
civic duty... me joining the club of the most
sober bottom's-up! pick'ld-week!

                 such are the affairs... hardly a worthiness
of a frenchman of pander...
or of being so blessed by an island...
when being neighbour of europe...
and easily bound to be found because:
france never too interest in the robot antics
of the scandinavians or what
was ever to be assured by iceland!

thus came the crude: skeleton waiting
to be refined... a peter schteele interlude of:
fancying a giant to a tumble...
i will not satisfy myself with a biography
outside of the realm of immediacy...
how do people write a biography without
the peacock of whim and of what's readily
available? a biography with a past...
automated: futurism... n'est ce pas?

         - i escape for the transcendental relief in
beauty... my own lack...
therefore better neglected: rather than denied...
it's my own that Belzeebub should
****** with maggots and acne synonyms onto
my face...

          i escape for beauty... not... sorry...
pardon my fwench: a ******* conversation
of the paupering sociopathic sort of
a job trotter sordid kin'!
                  if only crocodiles could cry...
they'd be warm-blooded...
and i would be year after year
an oscar nominee for a toast
of best actor at the oscars!

          pity... pity and the subsequent
dumbdrum!
                no! i do not want to guillotine this
affair with the autobiographic as long
as i am drinking and not any champagne
in sight... or... schnapps...
              
i best be off... this is enough frivolity
of the heart for a day's worth!

I doubled up my wake up
just to clear the cob webs away.
Attempted to numb my mind
before it had a chance to
start thinking again.

Waited for the *****
to come before
I brushed my teeth.
What I gave up was
clear mostly air
with a trace of
Orange juice and
stale Bar Peanuts.

I felt less as I
pressed my only good shirt
with too much steam
and not enough starch.

I keep remembering the
last time we talked
but can't seem to
recall how it ended.

I can't help but
be angry.
No saying good bye.
No invite.
No real reason why.

We're all on own when
it comes to our Demons.
There's no second chance
when you play with the
Serpents.

The pain is from knowing
I'm now much more alone.

The tears I released were
those of true sorrow.

You won't see them again.
I cry only once for a friend.

you wear your ulterior motives around your neck like a no
ose or a beaded choker you know you have weird style yo
u don't need reminding its not supposed to hurt when ****
boys with high libidos take and break but you've got eyes
that remind them who's in control they think you're *****
y and whatever you totally are it's okay to howl at the mo
on every once in awhile they'll make you want to slide into
a sinkhole or be swallowed in the soft wet soil but you've
got a hidden agenda for when you smile the sun shines bri
ght no one can deny a witch like you when you sing for ma
ma earth your soft skin makes plants grow what's a minor
heartbreak when a tsunami could wash away an entire vill
age at least you have patience

The King stood tall



                                 mountain top
                         .....                           .....
                    ....                                   ­   ....
upon his....                                                 .....


                                        
                     ­                    many
And stood in awe of his many many beautiful things              
                                               many



He s                     l           o      w  l  y   waltzed across his marble bri-----dge



                                                  ­                     l
                                                       f                         a
                                               n                                       t
(Subconciously) Seeking to i                                            e  his mind
                                               n                                       t
                                                       f                        a
                                      ­                                l        

                                                               ­         
                                                                ­
                                                                ­       i                           s
Vivacious v                          and roaring r            v            r            
                    a  l ­           y  s                                            e     ­       
                            l   e


                                              .  high
       ­                                       .
                        ­                      .
Puffed his chest up well and.


                    
His       al-     zi-     g.-  continued slow in pace
         w        t      n  



Until he  dnuora denrut  and beheld his castle



Stepping  b...a. . . . c  .  .  .  .  .  k  for a better look



Acc e  l  l   e       r         a             t               i              n                 g towards the led
                                                             ­                                                                 ­  g
                                                             ­                                                                 ­ e


          

And just before The King could see such greatness


          over
He  stepped and had his f
                                          a
                   ­         
                                              l
                

                                               l.

My heart is now in so much pain.
My tears are falling like pouring rain.

I can no longer sleep a full night.
I can no longer fight.

We broke each other's hearts.
We were torn apart.

We are no longer together.
What happened to forever?

No one can save me from the dark's might.
This time there will be no light.
I'm not going to fight.

There's no reason to.
When I did fight, it was for you.

I know I never did show how I felt.
Just believe me,
every time I saw you,
my heart would melt.

Just know...
I loved you then,
I love you still.
I promise
I always will.

I don't know why
we had to say our goodbyes...
but I'll love you till the day I die.

My heart is broken,
but I still have hope.

One day
we might get back together.
Maybe next time will be forever.

written by:
© Bri

I'm here now alone in the oblivion once more, alone in my world of desolation, a particularly similar scenario. Can your remember my first day? I woke you from what I thought was a nap so that you could go to 6th period, I didn't know you were already in the class. Oops, sorry, but you know I only meant the best.
Can you remember my confusion in the halls, you smiling at me, saying hi, and me believing it was to someone else? I remember, and, no lie, I kind of miss it.
Do you remember me acting tough when dude snatched my papers, or being cool enough to do his guy's ISS letter so that he was credited a leave of it? I do, can I have that again?
But though this place is bigger, though there are more people, all I see is more steps to take, and more strange gazes to avoid. Fair enough, I guess.
I can't expect to find what we had, Bri, can't expect to find a crush like you, Daja. But what I do hope to see is a phase of the continuation of the poetic chronicles, expect to keep going.
I'm not stuck in the past, I'm just reminiscent, I remember you both in ways that forced my creativity.
Baby bri, my poetic queen and dancing goddess, though pretty not many found you, you were beautiful to me, poem after response, making my brain steam. Thank you for being there.
And, Daja, the silent vigil, seeing through the soul by piercing through your eyes, you made me feel things I had long forgotten. You made me feel infatuation, you made me feel want. For the first time in my life, I grew up. You did this, and for that I thank you too.
Brianna, I can't explain it anymore, I may have a poem, but you have a name to me, something that even I lack to myself. Do you wonder what I'm up to? I sometimes question why it happened the way it did, but I think an answer has become apparent.
Daja, did you know how sassy you really were? You were my definition of a jazzy subconscious, jamming old music that was classic and quietly contemplating what I believe were personal issues. I don't know what you thought, but I have a confession, that poem I gave you? That was the wrong one. In reality, I had a personal one, but I was too scared to give it to you. So I switched it, hoping that the picture christian drew  for you would fit with it. But I realize now what was to honestly happen, I now see why I saw you in the first place, why i knew you.
The two of you, the Angelz of Autaugaville, misunderstood at times but completely understandable to all. One passing through "Love"  like a tunnel, switching positions continuously, but a romantic at heart. And the other, an invisible, what are you thinking? What are you feeling? what are you seeing? Sweeter than soft grapes and a voice as smooth as honey. A spirit I could read and a reason I couldn't find. You two were my wisdom angels, you helped me grow to be who I am at this very moment, and for that I'm continually grateful.
I love you both, though I'm probably forgotten, in any context you'll accept.

Depression- Deb
Suicidal- Sue
Anorexia- Ana
Bulimia- Mia
Self- Harm- Cat
Schizophrenia- Sophie
Bipolar-Bri
ADD/ ADHD- Addie
Ednos- Ellie
OCD- Olive
Borderline- Bella
Paranoia- Perry
Insomnia- Izzy
Maybe, Just maybe our worst nightmares are real.

As they all sat around the camp fire reading to
each other poetic rhyme, there were many who
would not last the night at camp forward what
or who would meet there demise?

Sue was writing ***** things  you could see it
in her eyes. The others around the camp fire
was Brother Newton, Orchidee, & Karen, they
were talking philosophy… Bri mar & Grandma
were talking rather intensely about meanings
of life & religion agreeing to disagree.  

Lolly was laughing with Ant, Poetic T &
Tadpole about his latest creation in stiches for
all to see. Jambo didn’t laugh he just quite
abruptly disagreed.

It was late, the fire once fierce now red embers
could all only see. Good night  Sue said it’s
getting late for me, she needed the toilet but
full were all three so in to the woods she was
shown a good spot to ***.

As she squatted a bear trap went off cutting
Sue in to three. Her scream unheard as only
things that go bump in the night could be
heard aloud in the trees.

Brother Newton went off to sleep only to be
awoken as someone carried him off trapped
in his sleeping bag was he, In the background
Alice cooper could be heard, the man behind the
mask as he was violently smashed against the tree.

Brother Newton now left as all that could be seen
was a red soaked sleeping bag sinking in to the
lake near camp never again to be seen.

Grandma went off with Orchidee to pray, but
as they approached the alter tubular bells could
be heard as the cross fell or was it pushed?
And nailed under the cross were both. We forgive  
they both said as there life left for another less
blood soaked place..

*To Be Continued

Anyone who knew her last name knew the fire she set in the heart of the expresser. I called her Bri, girl wonder, the original poetic queen by her own words. She called me her poetic god when I was first getting off of my feet in expressive poetry.
I took it slow, like a freeze-frame of which I’m not too proud of. If I may, I’d like to sort of explain what was happening in my position.  A beautiful day, cirrus clouds, December Alabamian weather. I was leaving, never to return or try my hand at our love again and all I wanted to do was show love to the one who’d declared she would desire it from me.
Insane.
Insane for thinking that a request of which as simple as it is can rearrange the very fabric of time would be accepted into the universe and granted to me as a blessing and a step forward in lively progress. My last wish was a simple kiss.
But it wasn’t meant to be.
Why? Why something so harmless as a that would put so many barriers before itself in an effort to avoid it is beyond me, but what I do know is that it haunts me to know that I missed my opportunity and let out an emotion of neglection, and I hope she didn’t create a feel of aggravated rejection In her heart, for that wasn’t my intention.
She, my dancing queen, right? Shier than the sun at two A.M, too self-conscious about the smallest detail yet still flawless, true poet by accident yet a poet all the same.
This woman’s worth, like Maxwell. The worst like Jhene Aiko. But my ribbon in the sky like Stevie Wonder, basically a symphony of emotion that I played a part in. I, a master of ceremonies in her play of life as she expressed herself and wrapped me in layer upon layer of unknowing intimacy.
Why? Why do I always fall for your type?
Why did I fall for you?
I can’t explain without uprising the controversy in my heart, the controversy growing in my soul,
Love.
What I believe we were trying to achieve before the divide, the main reason I sit on the couch listening to love songs and counting my losses as they compare to my blessings and curse the time that brings turns in events, buildings to the ground, men to their knees in submission to the will of it.
Love
What I would’ve said if I’d had time to show more of it. You are the ocean to my sea creature, the grasslands to my herbivore, the nature to my nature, a perfect fit through connection.
Thick lips, wide hips, dark chocolate skin with a clueless soul, I was the gateway in progress, the channel for the guided ship. You made me find myself better, closer, more accurately, and I will never forget you for it.
Not everyone is meant to keep in contact, but our souls are entwined within a universe all their own, a dance floor to you, a laptop and forum for me, completely customizable, and a warm embrace where our worlds collide and create the aftermath, the afterlife, of which all shall witness the greatness of such a creation.
The abdication of a king, the separation of a natural pair, the things that we must live through, so if you remember me, When you remember me, think of the possibilities, the unknown realm that we never explored.
Brianna
The heat of the fire I kindled in my heart, the girl who left the mark of possibility and opened my mind.
My first queen, my billionth girlfriend, but first pending love. I gave her her credits and accolades once more.

Congratulations!
You are now the proud owner of a girl...
You have successfully made her into the mechanical, fun- loving, intelligent, perfect, only spoken when spoken to, gracefu, lovi, wonde, beau, bri, fa, a,
p
     e            
                r
                         f
                                  e  
                          ­                  c
                                                       t
daughter.

This isn't a poem, this is written from the heart of a hurting girl...

I am that girl, the pure title, and definition of fearing commitment. The funny thing, it’s the farthest thing I ever want to be.

Deep down I see marriage, 2.5 kids, white picket fences, and all the dogs you’ll let me have. Oh yes, it’s a beautiful future there, yet my so-called “relationships” last maybe a few months, because you throw words out there like love, and moving in together, being my rock and everything I long for. Yeah, I might say those words back, I may play along with what our wedding will look like, and that gorgeous ring that adds a beautiful symbol of commitment on my scrawny little finger and its beautiful because deeply that is what my poor beaten-up heart is yearning for. But instead, those feelings of bliss I so wistfully yearn for are replaced with panic and pure distaste for wanting stick it out and stay by your side.

So, what do I do? I run. I am the star of “Runaway from Stability”. Why? If you could answer that for me and fix me, you would probably be a millionaire and sell lots of books on it. And speaking of books, my shelves are littered with self-help books that only exist to make you think that I read them, but I don’t… I collect literature that fuels my fantasy that there is nothing wrong with me.

I can dig deep down and do the years of therapy for you and blame my father that never wanted me in his life, who constantly let me down... I can blame the fact I am a serial dater due to walking away time and time again... I can blame my mother, who by the way shares the same fear I do, and you could say the apple falls right next to the **** tree. (Love you so much, mom)... You could blame the men (more like “boys”) that promised me the world and broke my heart after all I saw was them in my future.

Yeah, sure the list goes on with who I could “blame”. But the problem still exists that I can’t change, I can’t get attached, I can’t get hurt. Yeah yeah yeah…. Can’t means you won’t, but maybe that is it. Maybe I won’t budge. Maybe I absolutely won't stick it out despite all the right words I know I need to consistently hear.

And you come along, you’re sweet, you’re understanding, you’re that list my best friend told me to make of qualities we've all made throughout our lives after each heartbreak, after each "I am done dating" of qualifications a man must have before you date them.

And you know what?... I like you... So much, I could even say every ounce of me has fallen for you. But that my inner fear comes up like ***** and that's it! There is no chance holding it down…

I don’t think I can ever be the girl with hearts in her eyes that doodles your name all over my notes at work. No, I won’t be… I used to be that girl that was lovesick with an unrealistic crush on someone.

That little girl won’t come back. I miss her, but she’s not there...

Yeah, I am sure you’ve Googled all the articles that tell you how to deal with a “Commitment Phobic Girlfriend” and yeah, I’ve read them too which spiral my mind out of control how to fix myself. My friends all say the same thing, “You’ve got to be happy with yourself before you can be happy with anyone else Bri!” ---insert eye roll--- So far that’s all I got because this really doesn’t make me happy, and maybe that’s it?

Life keeps crumpling me up and spitting me out and I deem myself a pool of chaos, that I am not really wanted if people knew the truth of how broken I am inside, how much I don’t respect myself anymore because of my commitment-phobia-self-proclaimed-title…

I don’t know why I chose to write this article, maybe because I am not the only one? A cry for help? The attention YOU THINK I am wanting... Ha, no...

At least I can hope I am not the only one who struggles with this battle, and I am sure I am not... But why? Why is it that way?

(Heck, maybe a therapist wouldn’t be a bad idea at this point. YAY! Progress! ---insert another eye roll---)

I do know this, despite everything, I have learned the true meaning of love, (Crazy right?!) Because some of you I have run away from, love me, and always will... You've shown it, you've proven it even. And yet STILL, I believe in my heart I am truly unlovable.

To my friends who know the phobia, the constant relationship hopping, you all love me still, and that's hard for me to wrap my head around. You all are my rock, I love you all so very much. And thank you, thank you for not giving up on me in my train-wreck of a life because I could never do this without you.

The second that the inanimate vehicle
was no longer mine to control
and I fish tailed out
like I often fantasize about doing among the sea
wheels, bumper, lights
battled
median, gravity, and hope
As the same air that I ****** in
flew my mobile above the median
I caught a glimpse of that beautiful mountain
of where I accepted I would roll and be at the bottom of
no longer a mermaid swimming in air
all I could hold was my hope in salvation
"Please let there be a heaven, and please let me in."

As a little girl I was told I was "saved"
and I remember so specifically dunking my body under water
and no longer did heaven allude me
I made the choice with  myfather
hoping that as he was submerged in that "holy water"
that he would no longer be addicted to the "devil's drink"
I made the choice to be renewed
Clean.
Reborn into new skin and better more brilliant choices

As the snow reflected off of the mountain innocently
I prayed that the holy water, my prayers, my altruism, my heart would allow all of it to be true, for me
Bouncing back off of the median
another thought snapped into my cortex
"I hope Alex will be okay. I hope this doesn't ruin his life."
I spun exactly 4 times, crossing exactly four lanes

On the other side of the freeway
I felt the vibration of the vehicles flying past me
shaking my damaged car
I was in fact "saved."

What would I regret?
Who would I have wronged that would celebrate my passing?
Would there be anyone?
Who did I right?
Who would have regrets in the time they made for me, or the conflicts that always arise in relation with others?
Who did I change? What have I done with this life?

At least I would be dying at a time that I started turning my life around
and at least I would be dying at a time that I sat with a woman alone in the hospital trying to make the decision to keep her baby or put him up for adoption.
At least I got to hold him, and hold her heart in that space. At least I did that.
At least I loved Alex the way I always should have in the last two weeks. At least I gave him that.
At least I finished that painting for one of my closest, dearest friends.
At least I spent a weekend with my family, truly listening, truly being present.
At least I got to connect with my brother in a way I never have before.
At least I was a good friend to the people important to me.
At least I went to Europe and traveled.
At least I stopped drinking so much, and started giving more.

I didn't get to finish that really good book
and I didn't get to bring life into this world
and I didn't get to enjoy my relationship deeper
or my incredible friendships longer
I didn't get to go back to Paris
or learn French
or do that water color workshop inFebruary
and I didn't get to swim in the ocean one last time
I didn't get to master healthy boundaries
or get work published
or recite slam poetry
or say "I'm sorry" to all those men I wronged.
I didn't get to heal and repair from how far my ego took me
I didn't get to meditate or do hot yoga one last time

Humbling.
I hated the whole experience, because it was so **** humbling
I'm not invincible
I am mortal
And I cannot be the fearless strong woman
I try to be
every second of the day.
I will die,
but it won't be my corpse on that day
at the bottom of the mountain
in those mustard cords
and messy locks
listening to Heart "Crazy On You."
two minutes after a conversation with Bri
about silly childish plans and
how she was doing better,
even after I had gone
how much she wanted to hug me
and loved me.

Not that day.
but someday
death will undo me.

Oo I'm too stubborn
So just tell me your love me
One more time before i go
Let me get a bit closer
I know I don't show it often
But all I think of is you
Never want to leave your side
Forget studying
I rather get to know your favorite
Rave memories
Wasn't around much before
So let me spend the night
To make up for lost time
Don't ever think there's better for me
No lie bri, you're a blessing
Coming to save me from wasting my
Time being lonely
Let me explain
How I really feel when I see you
Over candle lights and trap music
I'm so down for you, I just might
Put a...
Nothing is getting in the way of my happiness
So give me time to get used to
Going out and holding hands
Spending the weekend with your family
Took a while for you to fully trust me
So let me make some announcements
To the world that it's no longer complicated
I'm no longer afraid of losing you
Cause everything you put up with
Shows me you're the really down for me
No more wasting time,
I'm so in love with you, I just might put
A ring on it before I leave

"We are sort of best friends I guess."
"Yeah, we totally are."
"Totally."
"This is all happening really fast."
"You're ******."
"No, I never am."

A brief summary of
every conversation
we ever stammered through.
Besides the awkward first
I love you's
and the last good byes of the evening.
No preference or preconceived ideas.
Always as honest as we were brave enough to be.
Tirelessly battling the quirks that piggyback
a friendship in fast forward.
A terminal one at that.

"Do you think I'm weird?"
"You are what you are."
And somehow there are a million
stories I want to tell.
******* Boonville,
and Demon Bri,
and getting dishes with Minnie Mouse.
How did all of this happen?
We never even had the time.

"I'm going to be alone here."
"You'll find someone."
"I want you."

I would love if people would send me the story about the first time they fell in love. It doesn't have to be about a person. Please please please leave me stories to wake up to.

~Bri

“you having a bad week bri?”
hilary peers over the glass partition
between me and reality
“me? a bad week?
how can it be a bad week
when it’s only monday?”

but the truth is
it’s usually not
a great week
here for me
when my life is how it is
their lives are how they are

kayla had her baby
before christmas
haven’t seen sam
in forever
jennifer still doesn’t like
dressings or sauces
but she doesn’t call in her
usual every day anymore

still getting calls every morning
what’s the soup special?
barb drinks the same
cappuccinos as always
still can’t see properly but
she’s still trying
jim and dorothy like it when
i make their sandwich
because they say i’m the only
one who gets the chips right
nicadamus just didn’t
show up one day and
nobody quite knows
where he went

now mckenna walks
around the counter and
puts his arms around me
because i’m his girl
and him?
he’s my whole world

i bring mint brownies to the
brewery for the older couple
i smile when children smear
their grubby fingers across
the bake case that was just
cleaned and pretend it doesn’t
bother me to fish uneaten
coleslaw shards out of the drain

ray passed away
in july and nobody
told me because they
thought i knew
last week i find out rita
has gone on too
and the feeling in my
stomach sinks
into relief that she’s not
without him anymore

susan stops by sometimes
for lunch on her way to
see janice who is now
in the nursing home for good
and it’s better for her
but she doesn’t understand

the same faces come through
but a little tickle in the back
of my brain tells me some
of them haven’t been in
i can’t help myself from hoping
they’re all okay

new faces appear
i tell myself not to get
attached to them but after
weeks of making the same
items over and over just
the way they want
it gets hard not to see others
as an extension of my routine

the world is spinning
at an alarming rate
my heart is still running
at a declined pace

“well, breezer
between me and you”
maureen says
(she calls me breezer
and i call her a salve
to my cold 7am soul)
“i don’t blame you
you can’t stay here forever
and it’s a hard job
i couldn’t do it”

my mother tells me i’m not
going anywhere
maureen tells me there are
better things out there for me

and i tell myself i can
steep fulfillment into
complete strangers’
cups of tea

what i was saying to hilary
was that past a certain age
nobody tells you you’re
doing a good job
“we do in my office”
she says with a
who-hurt-you
expression

maybe in offices it works that way
but maybe i couldn’t force myself
into a plate glass cage where
telephones never stop
ringing and “coffee”
comes out of a k-cup

indecision
grinds its teeth
and i find myself clapping my
hands over the register and saying

“you’re doing your best!
you got this, c’mon
let’s get some espresso in you
and you’ll feel better
you can do anything
even get through today”

when i look in the mirror
i hear myself screaming
that all i have to do
is get through today
words echo through my
brain that i will get
through this
that i am smart
and beautiful and change
begins by knowing i am
worthy of better things

but i also realize it’s easier
to drown out the doubt
when you hear it from
someone else
so whoever and
wherever you are
if you need this affirmation, take it
pass it on, even

keep grinding, girl
you’re doing a great job

sleep this most and Spring to lie
with tired tress and awkward thigh
apart that bit where winter slept
but now where stock and petals kept

a garden small and fragile sleeps
a'tween the hull and meadows deep
tha' bumbles bri' wi' nettled buzz
an' blooms with light an' shocks o' fuzz

a little rill there constant speaks
of need to want for constant peaks
(as like the bee that tends to pistil
the water feels to drink of thistle)

and feel the full when sharply stuck
by root and stem of urgent pluck

~ Bri ~

Short and light skinned
Oh b, those photos you send me
Have me feeling a certain type of way
Wish I could lay with you just to
Give you a kiss in the mornin'
Oh yeah I need to say that I've fallen since that
One day I finally got to see you in person
We may have our problems
Let call this a Boomarang
We always find each other
When i realize it's been too
Long since I sent you an blush face emoji
B can't you see I'm still digging you
Couple years later
Remember dancing at my cousins party
Man I wish you have never left that day
Not interested in investing more time
With anyone else
There just isn't replacing the crazy b
I'm deep in love with
You like to rave
And I like to dance all night
Let's get together and dance to some dope mellow music
Can we make it official so I can
Go scream in the street
"I finally got bri back"