I'm drunk and I just
want to let you know
my head hurts when I see you
because I like you
and I am scared
because I get intense
and clingy
and you don't like that.
So sitting next to you
makes my bones ache
and my muscles scream
like I just ran a marathon. 

When you're sad
which seems all the time now
it gets worse
because now
I want to hold you
rub your back
kiss your head
and tell you it'll be okay, 
but you won't believe me
and I don't wanna be clingy.
I know you like it when I'm not
but I like you
so I have to scream
in my head that I can't
that sitting next to you is fine
but not TOO close
can't text him all day
can't show him this poem
can't constantly kiss him
on the shoulder or cheek
can't make him think
I'm clingy.

My body aches 
head hurts
eyes sink in
pale red lips
cuts in my thighs like
Swiss cheese
and all I want
is to feel those lips
and hear your voice
and see that smile.
I want to text all day
and know you're okay.
Call you when I get 
off work
and hear about your day
and how you feel.
Hear that laugh
that makes my old bones
vibrate as if I'm at a concert.

I am a crazy
clingy boy
and you want someone
that can sit alone
in a house
in quiet
and not feel
a thousand hands
clawing at his skin
and voices screeching and
calling him names.
You want someone that
can fend for himself
but I can't do either
and
I don't wanna lose you.

SHE KEEPS ME AWAKE, TILL WAY PAST ELEVEN,
BUT SHE'S THE REASON I GET UP, JUST BEFORE SEVEN.
SHE USES HER VOICE, TO TRY AND LIGHTEN,
EVEN THE DARKEST DAYS, SHE CAN BRIGHTEN.

SHE'S MY CLINGY BABY, AND I DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT,
THOU SOMETIMES SHE GETS MAD, WITH I DON'T KNOW WHAT.
SHE'S MY CLINGY BABY, THERE'S NO PROBLEM WITH THAT,
SHE MAKES ME FALL ASLEEP, SMILING LIKE A BRAT.

AND WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS, HER SMILE IS MY SAFE PLACE.
AND HER LAUGHTER IS LIKE, HEAVEN TO MY EARS.
THERE'S A FEW THINGS IN THIS WORLD THAT I FEAR,
THAT MY BABY FORGETS, MY NAME IN A MAZE.

SHE CHECKS ON ME, HAVE I ATE OR HAVE I NOT.
SHE SINGS TO ME, KEEPS TELLING ME SHE'S FAT.
SAYS SHE'S OUT OF TUNE, I TELL HER SHE'S NOT.
SHE MAKES MY HEART BEAT, DANCING LIKE A RAT.

SHE'S MY CLINGY BABY, AND I DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT,
THOU SOMETIMES SHE GETS MAD WITH I DON'T KNOW WHAT.
SHE'S MY CLINGY BABY, THERE'S NO PROBLEM WITH THAT,
SHE MAKES ME FALL ASLEEP, SMILING LIKE A BRAT.

.you can never really write any poetry by not covering the "heartbreak" the loss of your own "printed" words: how much different is the internet, from "real" life? just asking... since: internet banking & internet shopping... to lose a poem / pre-scriptum is not exactly the same as losing a person to mind: father's day... i cooked the dinner, i took out the trash, i wrote an invoice... i guess that's much better than leaving a card of greetings... and, come to think of it? why are we the sort of people subjugated to nostalgia, with but also "without" a history? aren't we subjugated to nostalgia and a history as a "fiction"? the beginning of the 21st century, the end of the 20th century... the 19th century germans associated themselves with a nostalgia for ancient greece, we're the only people who have an inbuilt nostalgia "safety-mechanism"... the only people in time who are nostalgic about the life surrounding their own existence slot, which doesn't have a trans-temporal dynamic... i remember times when we would be teenagers... spitting on people from car-parks on imaginary tonsures, buying *****-magazines from indian cornershops, or belgian freebies of non-insinuations, white lightning cider while sleeping over at youth centers playing snooker throughout the night... even at school: attending a catholic school with the irish east enders... uniforms, sure... a chequered shirt: blue, red, white... tag? made in canada... and if only capitalism worked as it once did, made in canada? lifetime of a shirt? 20 years... now? made in china... not exactly real cotton, is it? 2 years... before ironing the shirt *****... once upon in gants hill, st. valentine's park, and the pub, recently closed, decent karaoke... in the park? golf, basketball, rowing boats in the large ponds... when the jews were there... gants hill roundabout... the hanukkah torches... jews scuttling wearing trainers come rosh hashanah: jews can't wear leather on rosh hashanah (judgement day)... shy like rats... when the jews were there (gants hill, ilford)... the park looked great... tennis courts... now, when neo-Bangladesh moved in? ****** place. what else do i remember from my original pre-scriptum that i lost? oh, that once time in gants hill... walking into a kosher bakery with ****** knuckles, having tested them on a canvas of a brick wall, buying some dough-fused-sweets? with the girl selling the sweets bewildered by fear? i like the look of fear in people when tested by uncertainty, and bleeding knuckles? later? climbing over the park fence, taking a **** while squatting in the darkened palace of the park, walking into a brothel, having my wallet stolen, not reacting in what would have been justified... high school... we wore uniforms... so no high school h'american culture trap / culture... school uniforms are the best idea, there's no chance to "shine" in telling apart the rich kids from the poor kids... there's only the standard... walking to a supermarket, past a thai surprise... sports bra, short hair... walking back... she's still there pretending to talk on her mobile to someone... you take her home with a few beers... play her some jazz... take her into the garden, the moon is a beauty... you **** her... hand in her underwear and you're still gambling... before the emergence of the nag hammadi library and the whole androgynous vogue, the thai were already readied with the lady-boys... when i reached in and found nothing but oyster... would i have stopped finding a wink-wink slouching worm? slap a trans in the face? no, not really... a thai surprise is, a thai surprise... i would have considered doing my first ****... "lucky" for me she was a she... a girl... ****** her in the garden under the moonlight... gave her my hoodie, which she drowned in... finally... the level of interaction where the female is not a mantis, i.e. a female larger than the male... she drowned into my hoodie as i walked her home... i like the familiarity with the mammalian, not resorting to insect superiority of females... these days... i find that males are strictly mammalian... while females? they are borrowing insect-esque ontologies... well, darwinism allowed the time-frame... males are mammals... females are insects, behaviour-wise... two time frame i do not appreciate the english for... darwinism is prime.... cultural-marxism my ***... what about cultural-darwinism?! no?! that doesn't exist?! cultural-darwinism is as real as cultural-marxism, and, in the former sense? it really does belong to the conservative right-wing politico spectrum! might i add? isn't psychology merely pop philosophy? i find psychology riddled with rubric cohesion, it's all oh so "self"-evident! i abhor psychologists... these gypsy philosophers... medicine-men with no pharmacological shadow of power... to prescribe drugs... arguments, persuasions, but no dialectics... psychology will forever be, for me, a philosophy primer, short-cut... pop philosophy... psychologists can treat people who have never read a philosophy book... r. d. laing... i remember this one instace... me and a fwend of mine travelled into central london, went into a bookshop shy of trafalgar sq., i spotted an edition of: the scarlet and the black by stendhal... i told him: i will trade you linkin park's debut album, if you buy me this... the transaction was made... the one book i read after seeing a film adaptation starring rachel (rakhel) weisz and ewan mcgregor... ra-kh-el: not ray-chel... we used to be humans once... at high school getting bullied back... putting pins on chairs once we got up, sitting on them... playing bulldog in primary school, slap-ball, tag, playing cards at lunchtime... 16 fatty boy... one summer in poland, comes back aged 17... the irish girls take an interest while eating a pomegranate... what was the success of your diet? don't go to the gym... excess skin, an aesthetic surgeon is not what you need... there are only two ways to lose weight... either via swimming or by cycling... cycling is the best... lose weight by also toning your body... gym is a bad idea... by going to the gym you are straining exclusive parts of your body, either the torso, your hands, etc., jogging? unless on soft ground, bad idea on concrete, arthritis... cycling or swimming... lose weight... tone at the same time, the skin is allowed the required time to adapt to shrink, and forget what propped it up in plump form with all that excess flab... ugh... i hated being attractive to the opposite ***, i never used it to my advantage! imagine... an irish lad comes up to me, on behalf of some girl while i'm donning a french braid: you look just like johnny depp in blow, impersonating george jung... 14 year old girls walk up to you asking what shampoo you're using... herbal essences... i never used my looks... *******... now i'm a heavy drinker... so much for looks... first girlfriend? a fwend had to call me telling me she called him that she felt butterflies when i dropped her at the train platform after a day's worth of dating: tate modern, edward hopper exhibitions, cinema: troy, starring rose byrne (briseis) - honestly, a man can go crazy over curly hair... and then a restaurant date... that **** just flew over my head... i wouldn't have noticed... honestly though... i missed the whole h'american cultural excavation genesis in high school... catholic... uniforms... jesuit army-esque formation... now, i'm ageing... i'm starting to find the company of cats to be: clingy... my shadow included... i once thought that dogs were needy... i'm starting to think that cats are worse, esp. the maine **** breed... "lonely" or "loneliness" doesn't really resonate with me, esp. when thinking something "feels" like a variation of claustrophobia: hence i write... without a dialectic in place, ever since plato wrote his dialogues... what is philosophy, primarily? isn't it an off-shoot of "claustrophobia"? we write because we are seeking escape from congested thinking, a variation of "claustrophobia"... now imagine a schizoid character... having to focus on an imaginary dialectic, actually... having dialectics enforced on him, with no clarifying exodus to posit a gensis with! now, a clingy dog i could understand, given the overpowering status of the leash... but a clingy cat, when there's no leash involved?! shoom! right over my head... gone, somewhere into the distance!

what, this is the part...
were i cite...
   the weimar ******
critical condition...
       a daft punk troop
of a song,
  end of line....
blow-up a hot air balloon...
worth of blaire whire...
play the tambourine
like a ******* video...
there are,
quiet, simply,
no nazis coming...
fashionista faux pas
examples...
i'm alive,
but i'm dead,
i just forget to don
a strap-on...
  "oops"?
   that **** go down well
with
the "in"-crowd...
usual... metropolitan...
verbiage surge of answers....
   many a fetish after...
we arrive at the sensible
aspect,
"toxic masculinity"...
when guns n roses wasn't,
and nirvana was just plain
gay...
              and then...
whatever that happened,
happened..
                 and people were like:
come to the "new" tomorrow,
there's always a yesterday,
in a dream,
in some phil collins
wannabe
studio...
or... some other random ****
that
excluded peter gabriel.

                 i died:
and just about right:
my harvest had come.

great book reviews...
"toxic masculinity"...
so all masculinity is
about a clockwork orange?
   if it is?
can i be pro abortion
anti mongolian horde?
yes? no?
  which is it?!
neither...
   **** me... that's just bad
luck...

                               sundbeds,
sunflowers,
tulips,
sunglasses,
    plenty of staged
eager nights...
boring political affairs...
and...
         when gaming was
more about the narrative...
and never,
ever, about the microtransactions...

point being...
it's a game within a game...
time, is the prime concern...
you play a game,
by waiting...
you wait: by playing a game...

  microtransactions
are...
you ever move a sim3 avatar
to a computer,
and make it play a computer game?
what's on the macrocosmos spectrum?
you....

               "back in the day"...
you'd spend a saturday morning
engrossed in a gaming narrative...
metal gear solid,
tenchu, final fantasy solid...
20 quid...
and you played the narrative...
and a game became equivalent
to the worth of a book,
resident evil,

            you paid for a month's worth
of gaming,
you exchanged tips,
you sometimes bought a cheat book
because of the homework,
and that was your saturday morning
before hitting the shopping mall
or, whatever...

the current dynamic of
microtransactions in gaming?
i never, ever, do...
i'm an old gamer type...
i see the potential of extending
the life-expectancy
of a game...

   as long as you don't buy into
the microtransactions gambling habit?
as long as you play the "game"
within the game?
the game is an assured classic,
akin to chess...

              you have to play
the waiting "game"...
             time...
                           that's all it is...
whether war robots,
    or dawn of titans...
        comparison...
  you know that the best fruit,
is fruit, allocated
to the geography of it being sourced
seasonally...
you can't actually get better
strawberries,
than english strawberries...
from england, come june / july...
no ******* point sourcing them
from spain in late march / april....

    same thing with gaming...
the modern games haven't made any
elaboration...
apart from dislodging the player
from the concept of narrative...
**** me... that's almost an improvement...
given that now: time is the counter
measure, and the gamer...
   is having to invest,
in a narrative, outside of the confines
of the game,
once upon a time,
games had time-narrative
constraints...
     now: there's time,
and there are gamer narratives,
excluding them from time-narratives,
of a game...
         it's almost a faux pas...
more like a wet-*****...
****** pinky lodged into an ear,
an april fools' day scant...

        if you hacked passed
the microtransactions hype...
and didn't?
and instead took to patience?
it's free...
   where once,
a game would cost you 20 quid,
and a month's worth
of narrative,
back then, when games
resembled books,
when the gaming industry
was heavily influenced
by literature...
and now?
   the game's free...
sure...
it's "unfair", it's biased...
when you don't engage
in imported gambling
of succumbing to what, this is the part...
were i cite...
   the weimar ******
critical condition...
       a daft punk troop
of a song,
  end of line....
blow-up a hot air balloon...
worth of blaire whire...
play the tambourine
like a ******* video...
there are,
quiet, simply,
no nazis coming...
fashionista faux pas
examples...
i'm alive,
but i'm dead,
i just forget to don
a strap-on...
  "oops"?
   that **** go down well
with
the "in"-crowd...
usual... metropolitan...
verbiage surge of answers....
   many a fetish after...
we arrive at the sensible
aspect,
"toxic masculinity"...
when guns n roses wasn't,
and nirvana was just plain
gay...
              and then...
whatever that happened,
happened..
                 and people were like:
come to the "new" tomorrow,
there's always a yesterday,
in a dream,
in some phil collins
wannabe
studio...
or... some other random ****
that
excluded peter gabriel.

                 i died:
and just about right:
my harvest had come.

great book reviews...
"toxic masculinity"...
so all masculinity is
about a clockwork orange?
   if it is?
can i be pro abortion
anti mongolian horde?
yes? no?
  which is it?!
neither...
   **** me... that's just bad
luck...

                               sundbeds,
sunflowers,
tulips,
sunglasses,
    plenty of staged
eager nights...
boring political affairs...
and...
         when gaming was
more about the narrative...
and never,
ever, about the microtransactions...

point being...
it's a game within a game...
time, is the prime concern...
you play a game,
by waiting...
you wait: by playing a game...

  microtransactions
are...
you ever move a sim3 avatar
to a computer,
and make it play a computer game?
what's on the macrocosmos spectrum?
you....

               "back in the day"...
you'd spend a saturday morning
engrossed in a gaming narrative...
metal gear solid,
tenchu, final fantasy solid...
20 quid...
and you played the narrative...
and a game became equivalent
to the worth of a book,
resident evil,

            you paid for a month's worth
of gaming,
you exchanged tips,
you sometimes bought a cheat book
because of the homework,
and that was your saturday morning
before hitting the shopping mall
or, whatever...

the current dynamic of
microtransactions in gaming?
i never, ever, do...
i'm an old gamer type...
i see the potential of extending
the life-expectancy
of a game...

   as long as you don't buy into
the microtransactions gambling habit?
as long as you play the "game"
within the game?
the game is an assured classic,
akin to chess...

              you have to play
the waiting "game"...
             time...
                           that's all it is...
whether war robots,
    or dawn of titans...
        comparison...
  you know that the best fruit,
is fruit, allocated
to the geography of it being sourced
seasonally...
you can't actually get better
strawberries,
than english strawberries...
from england, come june / july...
no ******* point sourcing them
from spain in late march / april....

    same thing with gaming...
the modern games haven't made any
elaboration...
apart from dislodging the player
from the concept of narrative...
**** me... that's almost an improvement...
given that now: time is the counter
measure, and the gamer...
   is having to invest,
in a narrative, outside of the confines
of the game,
once upon a time,
games had time-narrative
constraints...
     now: there's time,
and there are gamer narratives,
excluding them from time-narratives,
of a game...
         it's almost a faux pas...
more like a wet-*****...
****** pinky lodged into an ear,
an april fools' day scant...

        if you hacked passed
the microtransactions...
       and didn't have the chance...
microtransactions are like
the old school cheat hacks...
but not quiet, but somehow quasi-,
       a modern microtransactions,
would be a cheat magazine
thorough-through
a game like final fantasy VII...
you have homework,
but you still want to complete the game...
modern games...
modern games...
there's an "end gole"?
  what modern game is worth
"completing"?
    
   again: tron, ready player one,
back to the future...
star wars just became dead
to me...
   sick people will plague hard-working
people, with a quasi-gambling
addiction,
needing to make microtransactions...
and they will,
my father was plagued by
an impostor, claiming to be a
tax office official:
and what if, that person had
an authentic position at the tax office?!

when gaming was for gamers,
the games were bought...
there was a narrative...
but now... now games don't have a narrative...
why would they?!
   who the hell plays games for
the narrative these days?
i know that on the crapper,
i need a game that allows me
to experience live-stream
interaction with non-bots...

       and these old gamers,
who still invest their money
in literature-esque-games?
so i was the sad one,
investing in vinyl?
   aren't the classic ******* gamers
just as bad,
investing in prepackaged
narrative gaming
experiences?
             a game with a narrative...
yeah... me buying vinyl
is: b'ah b'ah bad...
       what sort of game is alive and well...
when there isn't a crowd pushback
for the currency of microtransaction?

the narrative is time,
   the longer you endure the inadequacy...
the more you realise:
you're basically playing
the same game,
but in your scenario:
it's free...
   in some other ******'s scenario:
it cost him 70 hundred quid...

personally?
   i love this microtransaction dynamic...
concerning the people who
do not engage with it...
it's the perfect antithesis
   of what ruined the music industry
with genesis: napster...

you really are, playing the ultimate
game,
time...
         the one sort of commodity
that games,
without a clear narrative construct,
"forgot" to mention in terms
of them being exploited...
to their full capacity
of the one "commodity"
they "forgot", or rather,
couldn't "sell"...

              a tenchu PS1 game could
have lasted me a month...
now? a free game,
like war robots...
with absolutely no NPC?
hell... i'll be 90 and still be playing it;

what else? applause!

I say that I dont need clingy or like it but I'm kinda a sucker for clingy. I love being shown someone cares I love being constantly kissed and hugged and held and just have contact. I ou e being told you love me and I love being told I'm cute or attractive. I love when you grab my ****. I love clingy and I know you aren't one to be clingy but dang I'm so clingy. I like when you talk to me and I like being complimented. I love singing to you ****** songs that I make up while I go. I love loving you. You don't have to be clingy but I like that ****.

People say all the time that they like clingy,
They like knowing someone cares
Well then why is that I am hated,
Even though I love too deeply and quickly
I am a clingy person who gets attached,
Who starts to realize that I might be,
One of the only,
Actual clingy people who will just,
Just never be loved back,
Who will always be the second choice pal,
Who will always get replaced by the boy
I'm so incredibly lonely,
Just floating and looking for another soul

first step

when he looks at a woman he searches for qualities that attract him because he wants to desire her yet this tendency creates an imbalance or disadvantage he is rendered weak to a woman’s beauty or whatever traits he idealizes self-realizing this propensity he looks away from women years of disappointment neglect change him he becomes afraid of women gynophobic

2

when she looks at a man she searches for qualities she is critical of because she wants to be impervious to his power she is suspicious of all men their upper body strength penchant to be in control misperception of women as property misogyny emotional immaturity neediness to be mommyed selfishness insensitivity or over-sensitivity depending she wants to be treated with equal respect a loving nurturing relationship she is suspicious of all people their alternate realities passive aggressive behavior co-dependence craziness

3

he sees her then looks away she suspiciously notices nothing happens they go back to their separate homes alone always home alone grown calm in resignation yet disbelieving of this destiny saddened by this fate both worry about future she looks at her face naked body in mirror her stomach churns feels sad sickening remembers time when she was more carefree he puts one foot in front of other then walks tries to remember who taught him to walk how many times did he fall who taught him to laugh where did his sense of humor go

4

he sees her thinks she is lovely resists the urge to turn away he smiles says hello she notices nervously smiles her shaky voice articulates louder than a whisper hi

Tucson 2-step

they are standing in line at a café on 4th avenue he is directly behind her she is lanky wearing white background faded colors patterned summer dress thin straps over bare shoulders long brown hair few gray strands small unfinished tattoo on left calf leather slip-ons 1 inch heals he is at a complete loss for words thinks to make remark about the weather decides not to overhead fan stirs hot humid July air barista girl asks what she would like her eyes scan blackboard menu behind counter she hesitates remarks help him i need an extra moment to decide he steps up to counter money in hand orders small to go Arnold Palmer half black current lays $3 on counter mentions change goes in tip jar thank you barista girl moves fast he lifts cup from counter glances at woman still deciding then at barista girl says have a wonderful day turns walks out door dawns on him woman grows hair under her arms his 2nd most compelling female physique adornment fetish oh god he thinks to himself should i wait for her to make up her mind then approach try to craft conversation at least find out her name no i’m too weak in this moment she is so lovely let her go

2

she orders double Americana in small cup to go room for soy milk thinks to herself he did greet her perhaps their paths will cross on street why did he run off so fast she glances toward front of café notices window seat changes her mind instructs barista ******* 2nd thought make it for here digs through purse realizes she left wallet in truck explains to barista girl she needs to run out to her vehicle to retrieve wallet forgotten under front seat the air on the street is heavy dense she smells her own perspiration looks north then south does not see him walks to truck feels exhausted appetiteless almost nauseous wishes she did not order a drink thinks to get behind wheel drive home go to sleep

Tucson 3-step tango

she feels disappointment by her recent writings as if she is reaching a more sophisticated audience and setting a higher standard for her work yet she is not living up to her ambitions her recent writings smell of her past writings too emotional the damaged woman wounded child she wants to write more introspectively with detached humor that only comes from keener intelligence she slams her laptop shut decides to go to Club Congress for a ****** mary or margarita but Club Congress is haunted with small town cretins losers wannabes she considers Maynard’s decides Maynard’s is too safe suburban yuppyish finally gives in to thought of glass of pinot noir at Plush next comes what to wear jeans in mid-July desert heat is unacceptable perhaps loose fitting thin cotton white summer dress thin leather belt ankle high indian moccasins hair in ponytail no pigtail braids no ponytail no makeup maybe little ylang ylang oil no she thinks about her recent writings

2

i am one breath away from crying in every moment one breath away from flying m.i.a. in every moment one breath away from destroying everything there is beauty in ugliness beauty in decrepitude disease beauty in harm hurt suffering beauty in greed injustice betrayal beauty in corruption contamination pollution beauty in hate cruelty ignorance beauty in death we spend our whole lives searching for a good death we spend our whole lives searching for eternal love this modern world is too much for me over my head the horrors of this place are beyond words unspeakable voice inside maybe mom yells quit your whining or dad hollers stop complaining i am trying to smile through tears one breath away from giving in one breath away from becoming stranger to myself winter spring winter spring there is beauty in nothingness we spend our whole lives searching for ourselves learning who we are not finding grasping secrets from dark paths light trails winter spring winter spring i am one breath away

3

she sits alone at bar at Plush glass of pinot noir glass of ice water in front of her 2 bearded older men eye her from other end of bar she ignores them glances at her wristwatch tries to look like she is waiting for someone music from speakers antiquated rock standard it is early friday hours from dusk moderate middle aged crowd mingle wait for local jazz trio to begin she thinks about her recent writings wonders is it too late for love considers lesbian affair from 5 different perspectives 5 woman’s voices each describing same lesbian affair in 5 opposing accounts hmmm she sips dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water she considers a story about a gang of female bikers who ride south to Mexico

4

the Americans came through here last night crossing border illegally climbing over our fences digging tunnels beneath our barrier walls littering along their trail they travel in packs of every skin color carry guns knives explosives wear leather boots some are shirtless tattoos dyed hair mischievously smiling conceitedly stealing when in question murdering they rob our homes slaughter our chickens ransack gardens loot our harvest you can still smell the stink of their fast food breaths

5

she swallows the last dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water local jazz trio begins to play as bar fills with more people she decides to walk home one foot in front of other wonders who taught her how to walk how many times did she fall she laughs to herself

Tucson square dance

TPD 10-18 unconfirmed data report

7 post-University of Arizona female graduates go to Cactus Moon for several drinks and dancing then drive to Bashful Bandit for more drinks and dancing 2 women get into scuffle victim Brittany Garner female 23 years of age race #5 (Native American, Eskimo, Middle -Eastern, Other) 5’ 2” long black hair cut-off blue jean shorts clingy light blue top falls hits head on side of bar dies of fatal blow to skull forensics report crushed occipital lobe assailant Stacy Won female 31 years of age race #4 (Asian) 5’6” black jeans black leather jacket red helmet Honda motorcycle still at large

witness accounts

Jess Delaney female 33 years of age race #2 (White) 6’ tight black pencil skirt white sleeveless undershirt no bra 3” heels blond ponytail “that squirting little **** deserves everything she got she lied told Stacy i’m a ***** i never cheated on Brittany i don’t understand we were all having a good time getting buzzed and dancing we should never have left Cactus Moon **** Kerrie thought some biker dude might be hanging around the Bandit hell maybe the Bandit was a biker bar once but now it’s just a college sink hole full of drunken frat boys when Monique flashed a little *** they went crazy cheering and buying us shots it just got out of hand never should have happened the way it happened Stacy didn’t mean to **** Brittany it’s ****** up i want to go home please let me go home”

Sabrina Starn female 29 years of age race #2 (White) 5’8” trendy corporate gray suit black pumps red shoulder length hair “i have to be at work at 8 AM Stacy was drunk out of control she gets crazy when she drinks Brittany was trash talking pushing all Stacy’s buttons then Stacy accused Brittany of sleeping with Monique and all hell broke loose i didn’t see what happened i was in the powder room it’s a terrible tragedy unfortunate accident can i please be released i need to sleep this is madness”

Kerrie Angeles female 27 years of age race #1 (Hispanic) 5’ 6” black pants white shirt black hair cut stylishly short silver crucifix around neck red fingernails “when we got to the Bashful Bandit i was ***** soaking between my legs thinking about a cowgirl at Cactus Moon ready to **** anyone i saw fantasized pulling a train with those frat boys Monique had been kind of quiet at Cactus Moon but when we got to the Bashful Bandit she lit up dancing wild unbuttoning her top jacket Sabrina went to the ladies room to snort coke with biker dude Kerrie wanted but he wasn’t into her then Brittany started saying crazy stuff accusing Stacy of stealing Monique from Jess Jessie goes through women heartlessly she doesn’t give a **** about Monique Jessie knows if she wants Monique back she can simply fiddle a finger my guess is Stacy is half way to Argentina she never meant to **** Brittany i’m going to miss her real bad she was a good kid”

Ann Skyler female 28 years of age race  #2 (White) 4’ 11’’ green white red Mexican peasant skirt black t-shirt black high-tops hair in messy bun “i’m confused i saw them dancing laughing grinding up against each other Rage Against the Machine came on then Nine Inch Nails the room felt quaking dizzy claustrophobic then they were pushing each other shoving yelling frat boys cheering the next thing i knew Brittany was supine on the floor blood pouring out maybe she just slipped hit her head i don’t know what to think i feel real sad confused sick to my stomach scared”

Monique Smithson female 24 years of age race # 3 (Black) 5’ 9” blue jeans jean jacket cowboy boots nose ring braided pigtails “Stacy had it in for Brittany from the start i saw it in her eyes at Cactus Moon she made several clever toxic remarks they snapped at each other i never thought it would escalate to ****** poor sweet Brittany was always so susceptible i was looking down adjusting my jeans over my boots when it happened i heard felt a big thump glanced up Brittany was lying there lifeless blood spilling everywhere Stacy ran out fast i heard her bike engine take off in a hurry”

Rodeo Drive Tucson

matt’s hats tom’s tools & tobacco lou’s liquors fred’s beds frank’s planks bill’s drills jane’s drains & panes chuck’s check cashing cheryl’s barrels hank’s tanks tina’s trucks & tractors walt’s asphalt sean’s pawn rick’s rifles mom’s guns terry’s tires charlie’s harleys rhonda’s hondas jim’s rims art’s parts gus’s gasoline mike’s bikes frank’s feed gwen’s pens ann’s cans nancy’s nursery joes‘s clothes jess’s dresses bert’s skirts steve’s sleeves paul’s shawls michelle’s shells & bells al’s pails & snails sam’s hams & jams patty’s pancakes phil’s chili don’s donuts betty’s spaghetti bob’s burgers alycia’s quiches jean’s beans jerry’s berries anna’s bananas andy’s candies cathy’s taffies tony’s ponies roy’s toys kim’s whims marty’s parties jill’s pills rick’s tricks alice’s palace debbie’s disposal dave’s graves

Quinta Waltz de Tucson

she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary efforts she dreams aches to create deeper discourse higher insight more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration instead she writes paperback television trash stupid inadequate answers to solemn questions she wonders if she is too scratched dented to find love her ******* are definitely changing she is deeply disturbed not ready for menopause too young for menopause she wants to remain a fertile woman with smooth skin wet ******

2

her neighbor Leslie awoke to horrible morning Leslie’s 6 chickens were assaulted overnight precious Mabel dragged off feathers everywhere trail down the street other hens cowering slumped together with wilted necks 3 of them with puncture wounds Leslie carried them one by one inside washed their wounds hugged them cried who did this terrible act a neglected abusive neighborhood cat or some desert predator why didn’t Leslie wake to sounds of savage marauding now this creature knows hen’s whereabouts when will it return for more massacre what modifications need to be enforced to ensure their coup before nightfall

3

she wants to remain a hen keep producing eggs does not want is not ready to enter the next **** stage of this **** existence it was fun being pretty for men inspiring them to say do whacky things she wants to remain a hen she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary attempts “Tucson square dance” (self-referential) ****** bit about Americans came through here last night in “Tucson 3-step” ****** "Rodeo Drive" tepid perhaps the pinot noir lowered her standards everything is becoming nothing she cannot sleep tosses turns thrashes sheets in humid heat of her lonesome bed is she is too scratched dented to find love she worries for Leslie

4

tomorrow is another day they say the rain will come last year’s monsoon never came the baking sun smothered her garden died one by one sleepless she will miss tomorrow’s pilates class the infrequent delightful chatty breakfast afterwards she dreams aches of deeper discourse higher insight with detached humor that only comes from keener intelligence more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration she crossed the line tonight her ******* are definitely changing

Tucson 666

he decides to shave eighth to quarter inch length salt and pepper beard a.k.a. unshaven look he has worn for years and grow full mustache the whiskers on his upper lip are darker with sparse gray at first no one notices after weeks the mustache gradually fills evoking many contrasting remarks several women loath it several men admire it girl at grocery store suggests he grow Fu Manchu so she can tug on it shopgirl says he looks like Charlie Chaplin downstairs neighbor from Turkey explains most Turkish men traditionally wear mustaches he read mustaches masculinize and empower men especially men in authoritative positions he thinks back to the 1960’s when many hippie males grew mustaches then in the 70’s gay men fashioned mustaches then in the 80’s cops adopted mustaches he wonders why a swatch of hair beneath nose is so provoking examines his visage in mirror discerns the mustache confers a Pepé le Pew quality or European accent to his appearance he remembers when he was young hippie with many amorous episodes how his mustache preserved the scent of a woman but there are no women in his life for many years do post-menopausal women possess scent? he feels indecisive whether to retain it or be rid of it

2

she observes her figure in mirror thinks to herself maybe her ******* are not changing perhaps it’s all in her head she inspects the little lines forming near her eyelids studies her features for signs of aging hardly any silver strands in long brown hair she examines neck ******* arms elbows fingers tummy hips pelvic region thighs knees shins calves ankles feet detects subtle changes thinks to herself my ******* are possibly slightly changing turned 40 in March married briefly in late teens no children a 15 year old dog beginning to suffer veterinarian promises to warn her when the time comes she wonders why it is so difficult finding fitting mate men sleep with her several times then move on maybe she is not such a great lover perhaps she would be better if one of them stuck around perhaps she is a lesbian the whole ide

Being clingy to you
Feels so right
Yet so wrong
What could possibly happened
A better relationship
Or
A partner full of annoyance
When love has so much to give
We just stood there and watch
How love kills us all
For we don't know how to cherish it.

Dating & Relationships are Complete Madness.

where do you draw the line between clingy and genuine desire

of course I desire Your presence

if I didn’t then you wouldn’t have My time

does that make me clingy?

I believe If a man Wants a woman

the woman does not need to ever Ask

or suggest

or sit back and Wonder quietly

in fear of being “clingy” upon muttering

the words “I miss you”

"hello:

"how was your day"

or

”:)”

does “:)” even say too much

my god why isn’t there a way to read the mind

i feel like i’m regurgitating my own words

and thoughts of words

the way they come to me so easily and

then fester in my stomach tickling

the back of my tongue

pressing on my lips

they nearly spill

and just before they do

i swallow them right back up

and say nothing

leaving you hungry

in the same way

i am hungry for you

I'd rather be clingy like a static electric t-shirt
Then cold and alien like a pile of dirt

I stick to you like a parasite
Leeching into your soul; a stronghold
My spiders web has you ensnared
When you leave I pull you back
You may find it an irritance or endearing
When I say I'll never let you go
Because aside from pretty words
You know I truly mean it
Oh no I'm not a stalker!
But if you leave me darling
*I swear I'm never going to let you go

Ang istorya nati’y parang liham...

Sisimulan ko sa panimulang pagbati.

Ito yung mga panahong bago palang tayong magkakilala.
Yung mga panahong kaibigan palang ang turing natin sa isa’t isa.
Dito ko nakita ang ‘yong nagniningning na mga mata,
at may nakita akong nakakabighani sayo na hindi nakikita ng iba.

Ito yung mga panahong nagkakakilala palang tayo.
Mga panahong wala pa tayo sa puntong “Tayo”,

at ang pinakaimportante sa lahat,

Panimulang Pagbati.

Dito nagsimula ang lahat.
Nagsimula sa simpleng chat,
na nagsasabing: “Ikaw lang ang gusto ko sa lahat.”,

at mula noo’y nagbago ang lahat.

Ito na yung susunod...

Katawan.

Ito yung mga panahong masaya tayong nagmamahalan.
Araw-araw tayong nagtetext at nagtatawanan,
sa mga corny pero sweet nating banatan.
Buong araw, buong gabi, na parang wala nang katapusan.

Ito yung mga panahong patay na patay tayo sa isa’t isa.
Mga panahong lumabas ang pagka-clingy nating dalawa.
Halo-halong mga emosyon ang ating nadarama,
yung tipong gulong gulo ka na’t wala ka nang maisip kundi siya.

Sa panahong ito’y napakasaya nating dalawa, ngunit...

ngunit parte ng katawan ay ang konklusyon.

Ito yung mga panahong paunti-onti nang naglalaho ang “Tayo”.
Mga masasayang emosyon ay nawala nalang sa dako,
at ang mga masasayang araw ay paunti-onti naring naglalaho,

hanggang sa dumating na sa puntong...

Ito na ang huling pagbati.

Ngunit...

Ngunit may isa pang parte ng liham na dapat hindi natin balewalain...

Ang Lagda.

Sapagkat ito ay simbolo.

Simbolo na tapos na ang lahat,
at tinalo na ng emosyon ang ating lakas,
at isa rin itong uri ng pag-uulat,
na parang liham, kung merong simula’y meron ring wakas.

Someone tricked you into believing the beautiful lies that sparked a fire in your eyes
Allowed your expectations to soar through the skies
Because you believed them, not very wise
Until they are brought back down to earn and shot and you're forced to watch them die

Kind smile and a presence that didn't seem so definite
You put me in a frenzy and then left me in it
A smirk and a goodbye that was final unbeknownst to me
When you left me in my room for the last time 57 minutes after 3

With a mouth that only spewed ******* and manipulation
Pushing me away from my barely there logic into manic infatuation

An infatuation that blinded me from seeing the truth
Locking me in my own insane room and you were the irremovable roof

So while I wasted my time waiting for a stupid text message notification
And you pulled my heart strings and bended my limbs like I was your personal creation
A million other ******* things happened across the nation
Yet all I cared about was what ended up being a meaningless love vs. lust altercation

I can still hear the stress in my voice when I desperately tried to get you to express some
EMOTION
You were more concerned with our body's state of motion

An electric charged woolen sweater taken out of the dryer
I'd rather be clingy then with a cold heart heated strictly by ****** desire

When I applied to this school I was warned of the cold days ahead
But never of the boys that will say anything to get into bed
Or the way all of this ends up destroying my head

I keep saying I won't fall for this because I learned my lesson
But as a final confession
I will fall for version two of you once again maybe this time with different colored eyes
But the same animal in a nice guy disguise

******. No white guy can say that, right.
People who can truly call themselves ******* can. *****-***** ****, W.O.P.,
maybe they can say ******, okeh. But they say it mean,
knowaddamean.
What'sbout Jewboy?
Can the Kaffen kid say ******?
Sand-******, but not ***** ******. Hecan say ****, too. And *** and *****.

Oy vey, okeh. We can take it. We can take it all. Rules is rules.

That's right. Wanna fight? Wanna be my enemy?

--- Grandpa had a play date. ***- Where's the Fun?
These kids got no guns.
And no enemies. Except imaginary ones.


Greedy little master mind sprouting odd fruits from Pokémon.
Can we make this work? Perfect it, in effect?

Marbles, maybe we can teach that old game and go from there to the funnest parts of FTA... Findtheanswer, like God and Adam played. The rules are some same, bounds, fudges and such. Keepsies, ante-ups and such, too.
Risk is right if-I-can-tation.
Losses can be baked, clayballs,
while momma bakes our daily bread.
Poor kids can make marbles in the sun, since forever, I am sure. Rolly-polly patti and johnny cakes roll marbles into spoons,
Momma knew that stuff. She could shake butter into cream, singin' along Que sera, sera, whatever will be
will be,

but it won't be the death of me,
watch and see,
babu boy oh boy
---
We can play war until we die, but don't tell the children.
They are the price we are to pay. They must believe.

We swore allegiance for security. We thought it best
for the kids to lie.

You know?
I believe, you know. It's unbelieving I need help with.

Can't you see? We swore allegiance and taught it has become the  honor-us-course-us-po-deserve-us ritual. A rite we pass for the protection of the eagles gathered around the body.

We are proud of our children who die taking
the courses called for, we never ask why,
except when we cry. Silently, inside.

It's our role to remember the glory
of our children dying for the IDEA that lives
in the statue of Freedom
under which our laws allow
might is right, if God was ever on our side.

You know what I mean.
Say so. You know the lies are being told.

Stop believing that is okeh, eh?

---
Mussleman dominance meme manifests once more to battle the flood of knowing being re-leased or bought, outright, to aid the seekers seeking the meta game.

F.T.A, remember? Find The Answer. Same rules as Hide and Watch,
"All ye, all ye, outsiders hidden in our midst, in free."

"Send me your- poor, huddled masses",
remember being proud of that idea.
Poor thing, lady libertine, so tarnished now that not even Iaccoca's glory loan could gild the actions she sanctioned in the name of the republic for which she (a proxy mate, feminine aspect of God) stands. Sig-n-if-i-cious-ly.

Seig Freud, we say, with the statue of freedom watching over the legislative body, she stands
quite similar to Diana of the Ephesians,
in her role as mob solid-if-er, if I know my mythic truths been told.
---
Trink, trink, trinkits gits the good good luck,
light m'fire witcha spark and see
a light in the night when the noises pending terrors flee.

Rite, we passed those places ages ago, now we hear echoes, only we know them, for we have been taught,
what echoes ever are.
Our own terrors screaming back at us.

Alot of lies are taught wrong
and a sleeping giant in a child may dream
of other ways to see.
New windows on new word worlds expressed in
HD Quad-processed reality
simulations. You know,
child eyes see right through those.

Exactly that happened. Slowly at first.
Good is more difficult to believe
you are expert enough to try doing than is evil.
Read it again.
This couplet or line, as time will tell.

Don't ignore known knowns,
stand up under the weight of knowing good and knowing evil.
Be good.

We know from conception,
we think,
whatever it takes means
take what ever we think right,
pursue happenstances in the favor of my father's world,
provided for me, the kid.
\
The son, a first-man son,
some several thousand generations removed.
Lucky some body stored the good stuff in the mitochon'orhea, right.
We'd be powerless. O'rhea, double stufft, blessusall.

Otherwise lies are left for kids to learn,
but not to
be left true,
as when they first was told.

Our sibyl e-gran mals tol' em true,
as they knew what they passed through, to the moment, then...

Around the fire, dancing shadows, make them play.
All ye, all ye outs, in free!

See dancing shadows, en-joy my joy, be strong,

long strong, sing along, long, long song

and laugh until you die.
---
Some con-served ideas will land a man in a prison with no keys.

Imagine that. Take your time, it is no passing fancy. Be here,
with me, a while. Pleased to meet you I am, no comma needed.
Now, we may wait, whiling away a time or two is common, in mortal pauses. Are you dead or alive?

Is it dark or light? Do you see in color here, or in gray?

Who built your prison? I built mine. You'll love it, I imagine,

whenever forever flows past those old lies striving for redemption,
recycling-clingy static hairballs and ghost turds
touch, once more,
*** potentia amber atoms in cosmic chili for the soul
of the loaf-giver, warden of the feeding forces life lives
to give dead things. There's the rub.

Spark to fire? Watts to fuel the favor, Issac, can you lead us in a song? A con-serving song for when the cons a fided or feited,
defeat my sorrows and my shame,
let me see Christ take the blame.

Confidencein ignowanceus. Worsen dignitatus evawas.

Blow on it. Soft. The spark landed in that ghost **** you thought you swept away or ****** into a vortex of hoovering witnesses,
if you whew too strong, you blow yer own little light out, and have to wait for lighten-loadin' bearers
to take care from you.

That can take time, too.

It always takes a while to get deep enough to see the bottom.

Cicero, old friend...

ne vestigium quidem ullum est reliquum nobis dignitatis 

[not even a trace is left to us of our dignity]

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dignitas(Romanconcept)>

See, from a single spark,
touching a volatile bit o' whatever,
you may see the root of the Roman canker sore
yomamma kistyawit.
And be on yo way,
satisfied minded there do seem to be a way, each day, just beyond the evil sufficiency we find soon after the morning's mercy's been renewed.

And may, if it may be,
ye see a rich man wit' a satisfied mind
and may that man be me in your mirror, as it were.

Carry on, as you were.
Or walk this way, a while,
mind the limp. I'll set the pace.
It ain't a race, y'lil'squirt.

Wait'll y'see.

Waiting is time's only chore this close to shore.

What manner of men are we, who could be our enemy?
What name makes me your enemy?

What peace can you imagine when no words carry hate?
Can you imagine evil peace?
Cromwell n'em said they could make peace wit' war.
They lied.
Their lies remain lies,
evil knowns
good to know, on the whole.

Knowing makes believing count for more than idle
oaths of loyalty to memes mad
from the first of forever to now.

now. stop. This is the bottom. I know the way from here.
Do you?
You can say so, but you never know,
if you never make the climb.

And that can take forever, I've been told.

I love you too much. In the end it just appears to be uber clingy.

Sorry
For texting you, for bugging you,
for annoying you.
for thinking of you day and night.
by being clingy and possessive.
for staying by your side every time you push me away.
Sorry I get worried about you.
for needing your attention,
for being needy to you.
Sorry for loving you.
I'm very sorry... I can't unlove you.

. so yeah, perhaps the aboriginals, the argument for the noble savage is there... point being, they have a narrative, more eloquent than the moneticised outside the frantic fanaticism of Harry Potter, a plagiarism of Merlin... etc. etc., with all the scientific superiority, a narrative in collectivism based upon plagiarism? does it really matter? the people who spurn on the superiority of western culture... let's just say, they love to gamble, but don't understand nature's gambling pattern of weeding out the weak... and... given their opinions? i wouldn't want to share a meal with them... contradictory *******... tell them about the Manchester attacks, and they'll cite Yemen! i find it rather uncomfortable sharing a public toilet with them... to begin with... but eating with them? what a strange anticipation of the most profound profanity!
            
                                 so yeah...
  nice critique...
"philosopher" *** sophist -
namely a rhetorician...

i love the giggles,
don't you love the giggles?

philosophy is something to engage
with, rather than explain...
more a tartar steak than
a medium-done slash of slaughterhouse
debris...

ahem... where's your western narrative?
where is the sociological focus?
the focus point?
the campfire?

  where, is, the, glue?

    can't see it...
western civilization is superior,
i grant you that,
but, where is the self-inflammatory
implosion?
  the self-reflecting critique?

look at your literature!
my good fellow!
  the pop-***** of vampire-clad-
neo-gothica?
you have to be kidding me...
too many facts, imbedded with
seeking counter-doubts (i.e. facts):
compensated with an antithesis
of a narrative principle...

a right, without a wrong...
a fact, without a narrative,
is pointless educational rubric -
no more finding an point
of answer, than regurgitating a bunch
of facts...
      i would be so certain as to joke
about the aboriginal culture...
when the western narration continuum
is plagued,
   by inconsistent narratives...
narratives that would never
want me to allow myself
a focus for congregating...

   no, sorry...
           you sit that **** alone in youir
little group-therapy sessions...
i'm about to do a Pontius Pilate
revision...
   i'm washing my hands away
from the gloat...
i can't stomach it...

      i don't want to stomach it...
i don't even adhere to an I.Q. discussion
as astounding racial differences...
i have already the point breaker:
and why so few black athletes compete
in the swimming events,
while so many are prescribed the
100m / 200m distance?

            what comes naturally...
800m / 1500m races?
white...
          the quasi-marathon running?
evidently Kenyan or Ethiopian...

i hate this, the vest iz v besht...
                       i regurgitate on this
factoid...
               with diarrhoea...

for all the science involved...
what is it, exactly, that constitutes,
the gluing fabric of community?

    i hate to say this,
but seldom facts are a differential aspect
    of exploratory conundrums...
Moby **** type of narratives?
the integral aspects...
      science has overtaken the expression
of life, sanitized it,
   securing an antithesis of
misery and mortality...
                    with: "facts"...
      
i might share the pH scale with someone...
but if i don't share the commonality of
a narrative?
  **** me, third party sources...
why should i share?
we share the same factoid,
why should we even bother consummating
this fact, over lunch?!

no bother!
there is no reason!
      live your life, let me live mine...
but don't you ******* even bother
dictating what i can, or can't do,
on the allowance of having invested
in a private property,
you, *******, english, ****!

  savvy?!

  the vest iz z best-chore...
   sure sure...
      love your literature, wonder
of the ******* world!
          YA ******* and your journalism?
makes Mecca pilgrims blush!
  wonderful!
                
...and for not particular reason...
vampires, werewolves,
zombies, the whole generic
exhausted stereotype -
   applause! applause!
applause!

              what?! health service?
i was lucky to have met up with my socialistic
accessible doctor,
   how many? 2 years to spare from
the last visit...
   zee vest iz z best!

            because why would i have considered
studying chemistry to an edinburgh university
level...
    and not began a post-scriptum of schooling,
beginning work in a supermarket?!

nice narrative, love the advertisement...
keep up the belittling tactic...
   glorifying your ***** wiped clean...
nay bother...
  as the Picts used t say...
                there is an actual masochistic
attache of internalized hate,
that even i can accommodate...

                     i hate gloating,
i hate boasting...
   and i hate the sort of people who
self-identify themselves as philosophers...
rather than sophists...
the sort of people:
who, simply, can't, keep, their, mouths,
shut!

don't criticise cultures,
when your own culture...
   is gearing up to problematic investments
of its own,
most notably, the teenage mental
health crisis...
          please...
                       this is not a time scant
for diminishing the already
queuing problems,
   by resorting to I.Q and race arguments...
the ******* can claim to be
philosophers, and entertain
the centre stage...
   i have a bench...
  in a park, talking to an old east london
geezer about rayleigh bikes...
and the scalpel attitude to
finding a prefix, negation,
                in the word disease...

western civilization has been gripped
with an Sunni Islam virus of
a superiority complex...
             they sure as **** know how
to point the good stuff...
   but slightly less...
                dream-detached when it comes
to the current,
    problems...
                  but hey!
the barbaric peoples are our closest
allies of worthy comparison...
   compare a ******* donkey
to a galloping horse!
  that'll fix it!

- but i thought that western culture was
all for the inbreds,
the down syndromes?
  the last birth mothers?!
   so?
        some cultures are somehow
more clingy to a peoticization of
the past...
    which... says much more...
for what currently grips the western
inconvenience in the pursuit of
a narrative, whether historical,
or fictional.

I'm feeling empty without her depressed and I'm becoming more stressed with each un answered text I know I'm annoying and this is just toying with my emotions I'm glad she's happy without me I just wish she couldn't replace me.. But I'm replaceable and I'm never good enough, I never will be I'm destined to be with my anxiety throwing up unexpectedly... Just wishing I was acepted for me..

.i left an excess of a B somewhere in here... within the confines of a word giblet... i probably thought: bigger... bouncier... gibblet looked better... and so very far removed from goblet... i'm not going to look for it.

i haven't done much today -
and i don't suppose i will finish this day of
with some grand poo'em...
but one can almost be proud
to have perfected a chicken breast roulade...
the rest of the chicken missing
the butterfly? well... bound to a very
decent soup... clear and not atypical
western cream-soup...
but the roulade! the roulade!
no... you don't beat the butterfly *******
like you might turn to: "sadistically"
for a schnitzel...
you do beat the meat,
but you more or less... press down the mallet
onto the meat, until you reach
the right equilibrium of pressure and
there's that squish-sound / feel of the *******
expanding...

if it was a whole roast chicken:
of course i'd stuff the space between
the skin and the ******* with some thyme
infused butter... to capture the richness...
but this is a roulade...
the stuffing? goats cheese... toasted almonds...
fesh dates... thyme...
i might have just over-balanced
the equation with the dates...
but as i explained to the fussy-eater:
what are you implying that we do not
serve poultry with a sweet attache?
cranberry sauce and turkey?
and as i've learned...

it's best buying potatoes from a turkish
outlet by the 25kg bulk...
from a warehouse where the buyers
walk with bundles of money and do not
use debit card "finger" prints...
the free passing of money is still retained
in some tiers of society...
but the idea, regarding the potatoes is
to poach them from a bath of cold water...
once they start boiling leave them for
five minutes, then turn the heat off
and wait for the bubbling water to stop...
drain them... then leave them on
the already turned-off stove to get rid
of any excess water...
drizzle some chilly infused olive oil
onto the baking tray, place each potato individually...
then drizzle some olive oil onto them...
shove them in the oven when the roulade
is finished...
my first most pristine roulade...
of course you have to pan-fry it to get some
colour... the filling is kept intact given that:
goats' cheese is no mozarella...

it doesn't melt and subsequently ooze out...
and the whole lot should be be done within
the hour... the roulade can be pressured
to go for 25 minutes...
depending on the colour of the tatties...
i still had to take it out and "glitter" it with
a 1:1 ratio of honey and lemon juice...
the remains of this juice i designated on al dente
cooked greens... there was no need
for a dressing...
left-over red cabbage coleslaw...
that helps... sweet chilli sauce with some mayo
and crem fraiche...
it even looks the prettier picture:
leftover but it still works...
***** of a ******* butterfly *******!
of course it was going to spit oil back at me,
i was frying the skin... the fat from the skin
was melting the skin was getting crisp
and mingling with the olive oil fat...
also... it's a myth that the temp. should
read: 165°F... that's really just a circa...
mine read 156°F... and given the time i let
it rest...

oh right... this is not a food blog...
perhaps the moon is just too beautiful tonight
to have to attach words to it?
perhaps my love is better left alone and unused
and it doesn't demand sleeper idealism
for it to be celebrated?
it's cooking food... it's not a hip-replacement
surgery...
when cooking was married to chemistry:
i sometimes miss the laboratory
and the cooking up of esters...
my new found calling is in cooking...
and something i... wouldn't exactly want to earn
money for...

and what is surgery if not elevated butcher's ******>antics? oh no, it's needed...
but the meat is supposed to be raw
from beginning to end...
and if i was only given the chance to recycle
a recipe for a stake tartar...
or sushi... well... it wouldn't be much...
esp. when i come into my own
and cook an indian **** of spices...
but then again... the indians butcher their meat
in their curries...
i've come to some serious realisation...
the indians butcher the meat with their curry sauce...
it comes down to baking the meat...
in order for the meat to still retain its
original juices...
i quiet enjoy that little detail of cook...
in that: i don't remember the last time i was
in a restaurant...

i can't imagine eating while having to talk...
conversation over food is no better
than sitting in field of grazing cows
and their leech clouds of flies all bothersome...
with regards to the quality of the meat....
there is always some excess of meat from
the butterfly ******* before you start moulding
them into a shape that will satisfy it being
rolled...
it's a supreme joy working with a whole
chicken... i sometimes wish i was also the man
who could see the whole procedure of:
and be involved in the slaughterhouse...

oh god... the brute village beheading is
rather uncompromising... one chicken is caught
and beheaded on a stump of wood...
the head still moves with its last remaining
short-circuit tongue extending out of the beak
and the eyes roll... and then all the other chickens
congregate and perform a Kuru ritual of pecking
the blood... sipping it...
that's how killing a chicken in a village
looks like... i can't imagine an industrial scale
precision... but i would't mind...

every time i hear of veganism: the ethical argument
i start conjuring up an antithesis of
cannibalism... which is not exactly edgy given
my catholic background (i haven't been
confirmed, personal choice):
this is my body, this is my blood...
i hear a vegan talk i make a fetish of
imagining cannibalism...
believe me... these limbs look akward...
to begin with... where can you find a *******
drumstick of poultry on it?!
nowhere!

only a few days shy off today i made a most
delightful broth of chicken hearts...
i can't explain how the sight of washing...
oh... around 30 pultry hearts feels like...
given that they're hearts and not the entire chicken...
but as ever... the internal organs are a delight...
pork or poultry liver...
poultry hearts...
poultry stomachs...
cow intestines...

come to think of it... you never really cook meat...
you... curate it... it become a fine art specialist...
for those who turn to veganism or the vegetarian
"alternative": perhaps they never curated meat,
perhaps they simply butchered it?
the chicken roulade of butterfly poultry *******
always came out dry-*****?

after all, wasn't ol' Adoolph the one to say:
'hello mr. carrot, hellooo jew no. 1269230 of
auschwitz'... that's the puberty of my distrust
for vegans... they were never able to
cook meat properly... they probably ate
a decent piece of it served in a restaurant...
but when it came to cooking it themselves...
they would have probably butchered
a pasta and never reached the quality: al dente...
either...
and i'm worried that they can't cook
vegetables al dente either...
so it's back to the gulag of roots overcooked
and turned into mush...

oh i believe that meat is butchered...
but it's from the actual butchery...
it's from a lack of respect in how it's finally
"cooked"... well... curated...
are vegans the sort of people that never
ate a stake tartar... or found the most
arisotractic flavours in the giblet?
oh my god... if you can eat a drumstick
of chicken clean to the bone...
and, like me... sometimes bite off
the budding pulp of the bone for the marrow
gnash?
perhaps that's why i own cats...
delicate courtesans of the table...
a dog would go hungry at this table...
sharpnel of bones and some lurking marrow
in the "shins"... and that's about it...

you can never truly be a vegan...
not unless you repudiate the fact you've only
tasted muscle tissue...
what about the giblets and the cartilege?

every time i would perform oral ***
on a woman i could only conjure up one distate...
this is not a steak done rare...
this is not an oyster...
this is not a steak tartar...
there are "things" pulverising this meat...
there's an unexpected pocket of heat
in this... "thing"...
this is a sensation that lends itself
to the pastry section of my diet...
a warm apple pie... a custard drizzle
over some chocolate sponge...
oh qui qui... the marvels of a bilingual mouth...

if the meat is of good quality....
as the chicken roulade i made today...
and there were leftover snippets...
which i fed to the cats...
and the meat was eaten... in totality...
i was eating good chicken...
cats regarding meat are like...
those ancient jobs equivalent to...
Halotus...
god! give me a chance to own a cat!
i'll name him: Halotus!
he'll be my meat taster...
he'll tell me if i'm eating bad meat...
i'm not a Claudius but...
this cat could very well be the next Halotus!
dogs eat leftovers...

beside this one instance of catching
a female mosquito by the leg
and feeding it to a cat...
the most pleasure i ever received was
when i was preparing a rainbow trout
for grilling...
the head couldn't be used since:
i wasn't planning to cook a base fish stock...
so i plucked those pearly eyes from the head...
and my... what a delight they were...
not me... the cat...
i'm guessing that's the equivalent
of me gulping down an oyster...

female maine **** fascination with dairy
products...
any cream will do... even cheap-oh cheese...
dairylee spreadable...
but all manner of cream whipped...
i've heard of cats being fond of red wine...
i once owned one that was fond
of... olive brine...

again: what's with this need for people to cook
your food? what sort of decency of conversation
can one have when presented with food?
i don't like restaurants simply because:
well i can't exactly cook roadkill...
and shooting at birds is not my kind of thing...
so if i can't catch it and **** it...
i can at least: cook it...
i distrust what i eat that i haven't prepared
myself... notably the hygiene dilemma...

it really is on my head whether i'll catch
salmonella when i sometimes drink a coffee
with a guilty pleasure of mine:
whisked egg-yoke and sugar... on top of the coffee...
that's my problem...
but eating is never a synonym with conversation...
and it's never necessary to loiter and wait
for someone to shove pretenses above
the food in the first instance of: the waiting staff...

i blame the rise in veganism surrounding
the people who never allowed themselves to appreciate
the animal: in total...
there's no fun just sticking to ingesting muscle
protein... first you have to cook it properly...
this chicken roulade didn't have to reach
the internal temp. of 165°F - that's a circa proposition...
at 156°F and allowed to rest is just as good...
because it's an art-form to cook meat...
then again: what's cooking and what's about
to be curated?

the people who turn to veganism are also the people
who never bothered with gibblets...
the liver, the heart, the stomach,
in some cases the intestines...
hence my critique of Islams critique of ol' porky Bella...
this most unique animal...
which you can eat in total...
tenga deep fried pigs ears...
again: the cartilege...
ethics my *** if all you know about a pig is a bore
chop or a **** or... you never get into
the knitty-gritty details of the interior of
an animal... lamb is a stinking meat...
it's hell-rot when the male is slaughtered...

oh right! right! how could i forget the star
pinnacle... poached giblet supreme...
the neck... if you know how to eat a drumstick
down to the bone...
poached poultry neck...
the teeth and tongue wandering around
the crevices of this elongated spine...
i can imagine monkey's extended coccyx
tastes as tender... but only among
the macaques...
otherwise: when what's about to be eaten...
can be elevated to a status of ****** fetishes...
gimps in leather...
when rummaging among so many
boyscouts & aenemic vegans...

i'm yet to taste this, one specific, delicacy...
flaki (flački) is not new to me...
i need to marry a girl from ******* Masovia...
somewhere in the vicinity of Płock...
for i can eat some černina...
duck blood and clear broth soup...
as long as most of the animal is used...
the dogs can have the rest
and so can the vegan ethics society...

but of course this is no an anathema...
or some curated vendetta...
all the roots in the vicinity...
even the fungus... can vegans eat fungus?
are you sure?
what about those "thinking" magic mushrooms
that... if you looked into 1960s:
quick-n-easy philosophy courses...
the fungus is the botanical hitchhiker
that strapped itself to the humanoid brain
and... broadened our horizons and what not...
can you eat the godhead 'shroom?
it might just very well be...
that i'm picking a half-brain half-mushroom
entity in some alcohol to allow myself
to ease a tongue out from
its standard formality of the mollusk...
and waggle waggle waggle brute...

but yes... one is most certainly butchering
a piece of meat when one cooks
a broth... or a curry... unless its a gibblet
of sorts...
to "curate" muscular meat in a broth of a curry...
poaching it to death and worse than death:
dry...
it's about allowing the meat to retain its
natural juices...
how else to enjoy a poultry butterfly breast
roulade - with the natural juices still intact?

- i stopped paying attention to these *******
moralists...
if you have ever figured your way around
cutting off the butterfly of ******* for a roulade...
and you know what it feels like
when you stuff the space between
the meat and the skin of them
with some butter and fresh thyme...
and you're still not circumcised...
well... that's what skin feels like...

how else to reiterate? Ava Lauren is probably
the best example of a brothel beauty...
mandible beauty... something that contorts
and appeals to a perspective of cubism...
wretched beauty of the squashed square
into a pseudo-rhombus contort...
at least doing it from time to time leaves me
without a single buoyancy of thought regarding:
am i having enough, am i not having enough:
and if i'm not having enough -
what are the chances of me contracting some
s.t.d.?

bad beef...
again... juxtaposing a reiteration...
there's something worse than visit a brothel...
there's the... visiting a resturant..
i can't stop thinking about alien,
unwashed hands, preparing my food...
it's already one kick-in-the-***** not having
hunted the food... but to be left ******-over
twice by not having cooked it?!

at least if you know what flesh feels like
between the two crucibles of
death's kiss and man's tongue tease...
you will know when...
you will at least know when...
death comes with its kiss...
and its breath... the meat will turn all
yucky... as if a mollusk decided to prance
upon it in an imitation zigzag...

hence? i have no respect for islam because
islam has no respect for Miss Porky Bella!
seeing how most of the lamb -
except for the kidney in a steak pie
is not wasted...
the pig could feed two african villages...
if done properly...
while a lamb would only serve a pittance
for a poor man of yemen harem...

again: the pig is the enemy...
while not making crab meat a haram is not?
vulture meat... scavenger meat...
that's a: o.k. but the sophisticated nature
of the pig: sophisticated in that:
almost all of it can be eaten...
that so much of it can be you would probably
burp out an oink...
done properly...
the giblets in tow...
pity that such a desert god would never
appreciate the pig becoming a dog on
its truffle hog days...

beside all the arguments...
imagine how the "one true god" goes down
on a platter of those ignorant Beijing folk...
Warsaw testing! Warsaw testing!

pristine my *** when all they ever do
is eat the muscles and never appreciate the detials...
no wonder they become aenemic vegans!
at least butchering a vegetable is less of a concern...
you can almost get away with butchering a root...
it is... oh most certainly it is a shame...
when you can't cook meat properly...

but at least i never feel ever as bad going to a brothel
seeing the sort of people who venture into
restaurants...
i don't like being cooked for, i don't like being
"waited" for...
i don't like this modern orthodoxy affair
of a restaurant... i wish these people
learned something about how meat is: never cooked...
and how... it's always most certainly most necessarily:
curated...

pedantic? perhaps... you should have seen
me in that athenian strip-club with two-clingy *******
either side of me... starwberries in their *****
and we are all fine and giggling...
stealing kisses from prostitutes is: truffle hog
"learning" parabolla...

a date and a "promise" of *** is always
a limp **** affair...
i always want to know whether what i'll be eating
still entertain the existence of salt...
or whether i'll have to find alternatives
of: extracting the juices and finding the right
bites...
because love is long over-due and i'm not going
to butcher it further with whimsical hopes...
my love is a dead love is no ideal...
my love is donning a ball and chain of memory:
i have left the better parts of myself
in the wrong sort of people...
they're hardly coming back...
the people or the pieces of me...

but at least i can attest that:
oral *** and the cool crisp gulp of an oyster
passing the Charon of my tongue...
oysters are only fascinating to eat...
because you always want to concentrate
on the fact that: you're eating something that's still
alive... not even a steak tartar or a sushi slice
gives you that hope and thrill...
unless... you're hoping for some tapeworm
embryo being lodged in the flesh...
which how man can almost arrive
at the conception of foetus and womanhood...
i can't be impregnated: exclusively...
i can't be... pregnant: exclusively...
but i can allow a parasitical tapeworm
to become my new-born-*******-out-abortion...

inclusively... how else?!
i'm also tired of being left immoral by the act
of *******...
not unless you know what not being circumcised
feels like... and what chicken skin feels like...
the people at the restaurants...
a palette disgruntled by minor changes of heat...
and... there's always a very precise detail
when it comes to the temp. of a piece of meat
being cooked... and when it's allowed to epilogue
when resting to ****** with all its juices
left intact...

over-sexed society, are we?
at least doing the one-eyed-bandit's favor
doesn't allow me to ferment...
to pickle such repressive thinking...
itself pitched against: in itself...
and these this Radeztsky March forward...
over-sexed also can imply:
not exactly culinarily-savvy...
these are always twins walking side by side...
and they are always siamese problems...
over-sexed implies...
not cuninarily-savvy...
the better part of this critique is already wide open...
why all these cooking channels,
all these cooking programs?
and all this ****?

can't **** can't cook? broomstick! and to sabbath
with you!
i can't no better comparison...
over-sexed and also: terrible at *******...
******* is terrible to begin with...
you can't exactly quip yourself with
having done some lessons in tango or salsa...
the chances are that the *** turns out to
be a laughable take on tango and
you're going to step on a day-dreaming
dancing partner...
it's exactly what's it's supposed to be:
a gamble at best...
but when you throw in bad cooking?
recipe for disaster... bad dates that begin
in a restaurant and arrive at a black-out
bedroom with cockoon *** under
the bedsheets with you gasping for air!

'god let me out! let me out!'

I'm so sorry.

For avoiding you,
Ignoring you.

Feeling jealous
When you talk to other girls.
Yet not bothering
To make the first move.

When I do,
I'm sorry
If I appear clingy.

I'm not good enough for you.

But I wonder,

Does all this matter to you?

Sorry, for disturbing you.

i need some company
im lonely and im sad
i feel like a burden
and my mind is tortured daily

im sorry im a clingy ******* mess
but i still feel like im drowning
im still afraid im gonna sink
please dont let me fall

please hold me
please dont let me go
i need your arms wrapped around me
i need to know

everyone is posting videos
forgetting science
and trying to burn snow
well *** holes it’s called sublimation and
******* for not liking my picture I posted 26 minutes ago

where else is my poor narcissistic soul going to get my ego boost from
I have 34 likes and I need at least 50 to feel like I can be deemed fuckable by the general public
please help me

and you posted a picture
and I liked it and so did your ex-girlfriend
and I ******* hate her and how she can relate to you
and she knows what an IV to the heart feels like and I don’t
but you make me wish I was ill or near death just so I can feel like maybe just maybe we can lay in opposite hospital beds

TPD 10-18 unconfirmed data report
7 post-University of Arizona female graduates go to Cactus Moon for several drinks and dancing then drive to Bashful Bandit for more drinks and dancing 2 women get into scuffle victim Brittany Garner 23 years of age race #5 (Native American, Eskimo, Middle-Eastern, Other) 5’ 2” long black hair cut-off blue jean shorts clingy light blue top falls hits head on side of bar dies of fatal blow to skull forensics report crushed occipital lobe assailant Stacy Won 31 years of age race #4 (Asian) 5’6” black jeans black leather jacket red helmet Honda motorcycle still at large
witness accounts
Jess Delaney female 33 years of age race #2 (White) 6’ tight black pencil skirt white sleeveless undershirt no bra 3” heels blond ponytail “that squirting little **** deserves everything she got she lied told Stacy i’m a ***** i never cheated on Brittany i don’t understand we were all having a good time getting buzzed and dancing we should never have left Cactus Moon **** Kerrie thought some biker dude might be hanging around the Bandit hell maybe the Bandit was a biker bar once but now it’s just a college sink hole full of drunken frat boys when Monique flashed a little *** they went crazy cheering and buying us shots it just got out of hand never should have happened the way it happened Stacy didn’t mean to **** Brittany it’s ****** up i need to go home please let me go home”
Sabrina Starn 29 years of age race #2 (White) 5’8” trendy corporate gray suit black pumps red shoulder length hair “i have to be at work at 8 AM Stacy was drunk out of control she gets crazy when she drinks Brittany was trash talking pushing all Stacy’s buttons then Stacy accused Brittany of sleeping with Monique and all hell broke loose i didn’t see what happened i was in the powder room it’s a terrible tragedy unfortunate accident can i please be released this is madness”
Kerrie Angeles 27 years of age race #1 (Hispanic) 5’ 6” black pants white shirt black hair cut stylishly short silver crucifix around neck red fingernails “when we got to the Bashful Bandit i was ***** soaking between my legs thinking about a cowgirl at Cactus Moon ready to **** anyone i saw fantasized pulling a train with those frat boys Monique had been kind of quiet at Cactus Moon but when we got to the Bashful Bandit she lit up dancing wild unbuttoning her top jacket Sabrina went to the ladies room to snort coke with biker dude Kerrie wanted but he wasn’t into her then Brittany started saying crazy stuff accusing Stacy of stealing Monique from Jess Jessie goes through women heartlessly she doesn’t give a **** about Monique Jessie knows if she wants Monique back she can simply fiddle a finger my guess is Stacy is half way to Argentina she never meant to **** Brittany I’m going to miss her real bad she was a good kid”
Ann Skyler 28 years of age race  #2 (White) 4’ 11’’ green white red Mexican peasant skirt black t-shirt black high-tops hair in messy bun “i’m confused i saw them dancing laughing grinding up against each other Rage Against the Machine came on then Nine Inch Nails the room felt quaking dizzy sweaty claustrophobic then they were pushing each other shoving yelling frat boys cheering the next thing i knew Brittany was supine on the floor blood pouring out maybe she just slipped hit her head i don’t know what to think i feel real sad confused sick to my stomach scared”
Monique Smithson 24 years of age race # 3 (Black) 5’ 9” blue jeans jean jacket cowboy boots nose ring braided pigtails “Stacy had it in for Brittany from the start I could see it in her eyes at Cactus Moon she made several clever toxic remarks they snapped at each other i never thought it would escalate to ****** poor sweet Brittany was always so susceptible i was looking down adjusting my jeans over my boots when it happened i heard felt a big thump glanced up Brittany was lying there lifeless blood spilling everywhere Stacy ran out fast i heard her bike engine take off in a hurry”

I'm so lonely and it feels like there is nothing I can do about it.
How could I convince myself that it would be ok to find someone to be with in a physical way, knowing that I am just using them to make these miserable loneliness feelings go away?
What am I doing wrong to cause these feelings to relentlessly incinerate my mind every night?
Why does my desire to be close to someone else override my instincts, dull my sense of priority, and numb my enthusiasm for life?
What kind of person am I if I am ruled by pleasure-seeking cravings that probably can only be temporarily satisfied anyway?
When will the time come when these lustful alarms ringing in my mind calm down enough to disguise themselves, allowing me to pretend to not be a desperate love-starved clingy loser who can never escape the top of my own priority list, no matter how many other things compete with being close with women who I am attracted to?
When will I live and breathe through a day without thinking about ways to find myself in situations with women who I am attracted to, knowing all the while that my toxicity stands a more-than-fair chance of either running them away or misrepresenting myself to manipulate until I can no longer hide who I disgustingly am?
What will it take to quell my constant need for approval and attention?
How will I ever satisfy this desire, anyway, since I am consistently attracted to women who have no interest in approving of who I am and humoring or ignoring women who see me as a good person?
What am I doing chasing women who don't want to be with me?
Why do I think that if I keep texting, complimenting, or joking with girls who I am attracted to, they will suddenly find me completely attractive, even though they clearly don't?
How low would I have to go to be more interested in unraveling a girl physically instead of thinking about getting to know her, understanding her mind, and prioritizing her own interests and well-being above all else?
Why does my lustful and obsessive nature have to so strongly contradict my ability to behave in a way that makes me sexually attractive?
Why do I selfishly choose to express myself even though the only person who benefits from it is me and everyone else either laughs at me and thinks I'm a fool or decides to smile and walk away since I am not giving them any benefit?
What kind of person would be attracted to a passive reluctant caring individual such as myself, and then remain attracted to me when they learn that I am truly a passionate aggressive obsessive over-the-top unstable rambler?
What am I supposed to do if the years go by and I keep adding questions to my list of insecurities and my perseverance in this constantly losing battle fades away?
What am I supposed to tell my family and friends and grandparents when they ask me if I have been meeting any girls?
How can I try to sell myself to girls knowing what a toxic mess I am?
How can I try to sell myself to girls knowing how frequently girls who get close to me no longer want to spend time with me?
Why does everyone look at me with pity?
Why do I keep chasing girls who don't love me, or like me, or think I am sexually attractive, at all?
Why do I think I deserve that?
Why do I tumble around with fear in my head instead of getting up and doing something about the lust that I feel?
Why can't I participate in hook-up culture?
Who would really care if I did?
Why can't I go into it imagining that I will just ignore the person I hookup with and hope that they reciprocate and ignore me so that they don't have to realize how dumb I am?
Why can't I be charismatic enough to at least have some friends with whom I have ****** relationships with and not get carried away with?
Why do I take everything so seriously?
Why do I still feel like I did seven years ago?
Why do I still have the same obsessions?
How am I so mature in some ways and so stunted in others?
How come I excel in areas of my life that I don't care about at all and I can't even come close to being successful in the ones that I really do care about?
Why does being sexually attractive mean so much to me even though I already reject girls who find me attractive?
Why am I so shallow?
Why do I question and mourn the decisions girls who I am attracted to make when I hypocritically do the exact same thing to girls who are attracted to me?
When did I become such a hypocrite?
Why am I so happy and joyous and optimistic for the people I love when I don't have what I want?
If I got what I wanted, would I just take it for granted like I do everything else and then just want more, or want something else?
Why are we so greedy?
What am I going to do with my life when my lust declines and I no longer have a humongous problem to obsess over?
Why is this problem so consuming that I can't just ignore it and try to be normal like people do, and like I usually do?
Why do all of these thoughts form during the day and then explode all over my perception at night?
Will I ever be ready to love someone?
Will I ever be ready to love someone and not be selfish?
Will I ever love someone who loves me back?
Is love just mutual ****** attraction with linguistic agreements and complacency?
Will I ever love someone who doesn't eventually hate me?
Am I made to do everything but be a romantic partner?
Is there something absolutely wrong with me that I am in denial about?
Do I seriously need to become more self-aware? I doubt it.
Will I ever be enough for someone who I want to be enough for?
Could I maybe even be more than enough?
Can I increase my worth to make these problems go away?
Do I constantly put myself in these situations and relationships to torture myself?
Will I eventually give up?
Would that be good?
Will I ever learn?
Will I ever change?
Does doing stuff like this hurt me or help me?
Does it help you?
Hopefully.
I am on a roller-coaster of fear, insecurity, loneliness, lust, and depression and I can't believe how many emotions I have.
I'm so lonely and it feels like there is nothing I can do about it.

Tell me I'm enough
Tell me I'm worth it
Tear me up with your words
Tell me you love me
Say you want me
Tell me I'm yours

Kiss my forehead
Or my thighs
Call me your princess
We'll stay up all night

Let's stay tangled
Be a mess
Tell me I'm your world
As I lay my head on your chest

Breathe my name
I'll breathe yours
Say you love me
Tell me I'm yours

I'm sorry I'm not good enough
I'm sorry I don't get these jokes
I'm sorry I don't know who you're talking about
I'm sorry you have to be friends with me
I'm sorry I'm so clingy
I'm sorry I dump all my problems on you
I'm sorry you have to deal with my 'moments'
I'm sorry I can't help you
I'm sorry you feel obliged to include me
I'm sorry I can't reply right now because of my stupid head
I'm sorry I'm not funny
I'm sorry I pressure you to tell me stuff that's none of my business
I'm sorry I'm so stupid
I'm sorry I'm so insecure
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm so, so, sorry

Playlist Of Souls  Oct 27
I love you too starshine


Rosie

Rosie  Oct 27
I will never get tired of hearing that. :')
steals a kiss I had too. I haven't done that in a while. <3


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  Oct 28
What's your problem? I would never judge you.


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
I'll tell you, but don't judge my bestie.
She's kind of mad at me for jumping too quickly into a relationship with Fire from you. I realize that was a wrong decision but I'm worried. That's why I didn't want to tell you, it really is my problem, not yours. But I wouldn't want to keep a secret from you.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
Awe Rosie.... (((hug)))


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
I heard what those bullies do to you and I also heard that you're colorblind.
Gosh, life just really isn't doing you good, is it?


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
I've been colorblind and I just get mixed up a little it's not like oh yea the sky is orange. The grass is purple


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
The bullies are something different


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
Oh I know! I know you aren't stupid or anything. You know what color the grass and sky are.
I hope life goes in your favor. It is for me, just to be here. ^u^


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
Oh Rose


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
Yes?


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
I was gone for almost an hour...... I'm sorry


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
lolz It's okay, I was just hoping you were feeling alright. I wasn't waiting on you. c;


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
You can wait for me. I'd wait for you forever


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
We should join a clan. Stalk my thing while I find one that's not obnoxious.


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
Do you hear that love, they're playing our song?



Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
Sure thing!


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
Won't you need our banner, love? ^^


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
http://i.imgur.com/Kwmhcto.jpg
SilverTabby made it for us a while back.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
Hey baby girl


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
Hi! <3 Are you feeling good?


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
I've been better


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
That's fabulous! Hey, I'm not sure, but I think Fire maybe broke up with me? I'm not sure rn. Have you found a mate you're thinking of asking yet?


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
I have a few in mind, Honeywhisker, Midnightcat, and LightningStrikes sister


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
Okay.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
I love you Rosie


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
Always. I will always love you.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
Can't promise that things won't be broken but I swear that I will never leave.


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
Rosie reserves herself to you and you alone. There's going to be no more jacking with other mates!


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
lays my head in your lap


Rosie

Rosie  7 days ago
leans down and kisses your cheek


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
I THINK I FOUND A MATE......



You know no one else will ever add up to you. Maybe Nico DiAngelo or Will SOlace but they don't exist.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  7 days ago
i just got banned for being myself....


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
shocked Aww... I'm, it wasn't your fault! :'( I think jaysquirrel might have gotten banned too. I didn't know until now huggles


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
I'm gonna try and make another account..... (Again) I need a creative name,


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
hccforums@harpercollins.com
You can email them and get your account back. It worked every time I got banned. cough I got banned for trolling and when my sis stole my account. I have to forum accounts.


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
Not Shadow. That's the name of my sis's mate.
Why don't you go back to being Fuzz? My friends said they liked that name.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
~MadWorld''


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
~MadWorld~
I really like it a lot. It makes me interesting


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
Cool! c: You can't give out your identity. Like, about cancer or anything. :( The mods are strict on banhopping. Wow, my speed-friend thread is a success ^u^


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
Yay! and I won't I'll be super elusive and cool


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
I fear that you being cool, everyone will know who you are! c;


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
hehe blushes sorry


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
Well, I know, ya' can't help it! xD


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
I turn my head in your lap. a tear falls onto your jeans


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
Hey, whoah, not cool.
What's wrong?


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
another tear drops


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
***, Andy, tell me.
I really am concerned now.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
I hurt


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
Where? :'o


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
m m y leg


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
Hey, hey! lovingly strokes your cheek It's all going to be okay. You are the sun in my world. Without that blazing sun, I would be conveyed in total darkness. Without that blazing sun I'd be hurt by the cold hearts of the world.
It's going to be alright because you are my sunshine.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
weeps in your lap I wouldn't be able to stand it with out my Rose. I'm sorry for being so winces me..... (As I do this in really life*


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
No, of course not! I only wish that you won't break my heart like that again. hugs oh so lovingly
The things I love about you make me who I am today. You don't need to change. In my eyes, you're the only man for me. I will love you even when the sun dies, even when it burns out my heart still belongs wherever you'll be.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
I try my best not to hurt you (I had to run and go puke)


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
Hey there's no rush. I know.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
My lungs are clogged up.... or it feels that way


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
pats you on the back I wish I could help you... Yet I'm thousands of miles away. I will find you someday and make the most of everytime you are with me.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
Hey Rosie


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
1. Happy National Cat Day
2. Happy Anniversary
3. HI! Did you get your forum account?


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
No they declined it


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
Happy 2 month baby girl! I love you so much


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
Aww :( They did that to me to when I tried ban-hopping :/
It's 3 months now! Yay! //throws confetti//
I love you with my whole heart! What would you like for your anniversary my love?


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
I would never know how much time has passed because every time we speak I fall in love all over again. Just being here is enough for me


Rosie

Rosie  6 days ago
^This^ it made me smile.
It goes right through me and sinks into my heart.
Do you think I could somehow find a way to leave Fire, and it could just be us on the forums? You can find someone in real life, but Fire really doesn't compare to you. I want us, I want you and you with me.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  6 days ago
I may not be on the forums for a long time Rosie more than a few months probably


Rosie

Rosie  5 days ago
That okay! Things are back to the way they were. I like it that way.



Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  5 days ago
I'm currently wearing cat ears



Rosie

Rosie  5 days ago
For cat day? :3


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  5 days ago
Yes for cat day and a Black Matter Tshirt with cats on it


Rosie

Rosie  5 days ago
I have a black matter T-shirt from Hot Topic with a cat on it too! (I'm not wearing it though!) I'm wearing a blue cat rn. My cat will get lots of love today xD


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  5 days ago
Haha! XD


Rosie

Rosie  5 days ago
On Christmas I will send you a picture of me. Oh my goshie I can't wait!


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  5 days ago
I hope I have hair by then..... tickles you Ms.Rose we should wait a year before that I think. Don't want to rush it love


Rosie

Rosie  5 days ago
Fine! tickles you I can't wait for a year then! x3 Yes, I love you no matter what you look like. Mr. Andy


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  5 days ago
giggles Wanna roleplay some Rosie?


Rosie

Rosie  5 days ago
That interests me but sadly I must have some dinner. I love you sunshine. Goodnight~ (Unless you'll be on in an hour)


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  5 days ago
Message me when you get back on


Rosie

Rosie  5 days ago
Here! Would you like to RP warriors? ^u^


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  5 days ago
Ravenspark laid on the ground sunning himself. It was such a beautiful day


Rosie

Rosie  5 days ago
(I have something to tell you)
Owlfur paced around, on patrol. Her apprentice, Turtlepaw, pounced on falling leaves.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  4 days ago
Oh tell me please


Rosie

Rosie  4 days ago
I don't want to sound clingy or anything, but why were you gone so long? I'm just curious, it's nothing big.
I will tell you in my next post, hold on>>


Rosie

Rosie  4 days ago
So many good things have come from today.
I'm thinking about making my own banner shop on the forums, but I'm scared I will get flooded with people.
x3 I made a den. It was a huge forum success!
And lastly, xD, it was his idea, but I video chatted with Fire. Ik, it's TOO EARLY! lolz but he insisted! Today has been overall awesome for me. And of course these last moment make it better! ^u^


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  4 days ago
Oh wow Rosie that sounds great....


Rosie

Rosie  4 days ago
What's wrong? Is something wrong?


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  4 days ago
I'm fine...


Rosie

Rosie  4 days ago
Are you positive?
You know you can always tell me. Don't hold anything back.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  4 days ago
Yes.... looks at the ground


Rosie

Rosie  4 days ago
Okay, I believe you.
Well I guess since I haven't said it yet,
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Something scary happened today. Like, Irdk what it means.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Hey baby girl, I've had an okay night wbu?


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
It's been perfection! c;


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Yay!!! I love us hugs you and kisses your cheek


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
I love us too! ;)
How's Batman? XD


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
He's in my lap


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Singing Christmas carols.... On Halloween.... We're listening to a horror movie


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
x3 I'm glad you aren't separated from him. You too are awesome! (separated as in not in the building I guess you'd say)


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
ANSEL something IS IN THIS AND ME, JINXX, OWEN, JANICK, SAM, AND JAKE ARE ALL GOING CRAZY OVER HIM!!!! Then there's Austin..... He's straight.


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
I saw the Haunter with my best friends in the woods. I know, the scariest place to watch a horror movie.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
I love Batman


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
lolz I don't crush over movie stars. Or rock stars. Or anybody! It's all about the person inside them. Okay, I'm being weird now xD


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Thats where we are


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
Batman's my favorite one.


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
Forever weird xD


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
This is where we gather and Austin has no date


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Oh my god alec is here now. He crushes on Austin


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
Lolz die Alec jk I have no idea what's going on! ^_^


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Me and my gay friends are watching a film. One of them isn't gay and he's crushed on.


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
xD I think I'd stay straight. It's against my religion to go the other way.
That sounds like fun though! I've been to so many places with my friends. ^u^
It makes for a perfect Halloween!


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
It's really cute


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Glad you had a good time Rosie


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
Tomorrow I'm going to "meet" Spottedleaf030 for the first time.
I've never had as close a friend as her.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Meet?


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
In person.
She has saved me from taking my life. I dominated "lolz" from her. I've always known her, but tomorrow we meet.
Excited! ^u^


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Oh rosie thats awesome


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
Oh my gosh how's Spottedleaf??


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
Haven't met her yet! It's 2 pm here. It must be 4 for you? I'm guessing?
Have you ever met her on the forums?
Someday I'm going to move to Canada, find some guy who would move to Canada with me, go there, and FIND SPOTTY! I swear, do friends get better than her?? I will make that a goal :3


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  3 days ago
I'll go with you. I'll show up with a car full of guys and we can go!


Rosie

Rosie  3 days ago
***
Spotty- HI MANDY!
Me- Hey there! I hope you don't mind but I brought a few boys over.
Spotty- D:

xD That would not be good.


Playlist Of Souls

Playlist Of Souls  2 days ago
Me- its all good it's Fuzz spotty
Her- Yay!
Me- And my friends
Her-....
Me- Don't worry Austin is nice
Her- :)
Me- Alec is nice too, so is Janick, Sam, Jake, and Jinxx
Her-.....
Me- Jinxx this is Spotty
Jinxx- Who?
Me- Rose's friend
Him- Where?
Me- Towards my voice
Him- Turns in the general direction)) Hiya Spotty
Me- Jinxx plays guitar and likes chocolate, Janick does guitar and vocals, he likes camels, Alec is gay, he likes the rainbow, Jake is also in a wheelchair and likes his boyfriend sam, Sam likes wolves and plays the drums, Austin is straight but is into a girl back home, Me, I like Roses and Singing I play guitar and sing vocals for my band