Six hours later the sun rose in Peach Springs shinning down on the little busy police station in the middle of town. Eve sat in a tiny well lit room hand cuffed to a bar attached to the wall. She felt dizzy from the tears she had shed unsure how she could still produce them, one after another they fell. The door opened announcing the police officer who uncuffed her and lead her to a room with a table in the center surrounded with chairs. She sat silently gripping to what was left of her sanity as the tears continued to fall. Minutes later two detectives entered, one female, one male, they sat down looking at each other stating their names and titles. The female detective asked Eve her fist question,

"Do we have you permission to record this conversation?"

"Yes, you do."  

She pressed the record button and the interrogation had officially began.

"Tell us what happened prior to you arriving at the hospital."

Eve began to tell her truth fading in and out of the memory as she told the events before and after she decided to get out of bed with Sam. Six hours earlier...


Eve and Sam were restless unable to return to their dreams. She hoped Matt would come back to bed and realize he was being a ****.


He doesn't even know what the situation is between me and Jake.

Eve decided to leave the bed with her son oblivious to the consequences that awaited. She kept her shoulders square, her eyes on the path that lead to the kitchen as she passed Matt in the living room. She peeked in the master bedroom searching for Julie when Matt's  mother spoke in an overpowering voice,


"I'm in here, close the door."

Eve felt her son squeeze his legs around her and quickly closed the door. She walked towards the back door listening to faint voices coming from Matt's room. She joined them sitting across from Julie with her son in her lap she asked,

"What are you up to Jewels?"

Eve wished she would've stayed in bed when Julie pointed to the coke offering  her some. She refused it but knew it wouldn't be that easy to get away with. Like with most things Julie told her to try it and stop if she didn't like it. Eve asked her what it felt like then agreed when Julie told her it felt good. She placed her child on the bed opposite to Jake, she shooed Jake"s hand away when he tried to grab her. Agitated she walked over to Julie who held the foil steady while she inhaled her hit. As she exhaled she washed the taste clean from her lips. When she looked up she realized Matt was sitting on his bed drinking a beer. Eve shook her head at Matt agreeing with his sister who was telling stop or he'd go back to jail.

******* *******, he's doing this on purpose.

she told herself when he downed four more. Eve followed Julie's lead yelling at Jake not to  give Matt any of the ******* when he offered it to him. Eve held her anger while she watched him as he snorted the fine white powder. Julie told her brother,

"Your ******* stupid."

Eve shouted at him,

"Yeah you are."

"Why do you even care.",

he asked in voice that stabbed at Eve. Lost in her thoughts she barely notice when Amanda walked in. Eve heard her whining but couldn't make out what she was saying. She looked up in time to hear Julie invite her somewhere. Automatically she refused using the excuse that her son was awake. Amanda threw a fit telling Julie to leave Eve behind then she turned to Eve glaring at her as she left the room with Jake following behind her.

"Ignore her. Lets go.",

Julie insisted.

"I can't.",

Eve pointed to her son.

"Ask Matt to watch him",

she told her. Eve looked at Matt who was shaking his head with his answer no.

"It's only for a few minutes Matt."

Julie told him. Eve walked towards Matt telling Julie,

"It's okay Julie, Amanda doesn't want me to go, remember."

"**** her."

Julie said laughing. Eve reached for her son taking him from Matt, but Matt pulled him back telling her,

"I'll do it."

"No, it's okay, give me my baby."

Eve insisted pulling on Sam. Eve frowned at Matt when he refused to let go of Sam. They both tugged at him til he started crying, with sounds of his cries she let go of Sam.

"Are you sure Matt? I can take him, he's my baby, just give him to me. "  

Eve studied him, Matt pouted saying,

"I'll do it, I always do it anyway?"

Feeling uneasy Eve handed Sam's bottle to Matt then left the room with Julie. They met Amanda, Jake and Jeff at the curb where the cream colored Cadillac was parked in front of the house.  Immediately Amanda threw a fit at the sight of Eve. Eve shrugged her off as they drove to the store. Jake went in then returned empty handed explaining it was two a.m. and the store clerk refused to sell him alcohol. They drove the four blocks back to the house with Amanda pouting a fit that had them all in distress. Upon arriving to the house Eve smoked a cigarette on the front porch with Julie keeping her company. She finish the cigarette proceeded to the kitchen retrieving a yogurt from the fridge. Eve step out on the back porch listening for Sam. She stood there for several minute while she ate her yogurt thinking,

Sam's probably asleep. If i go in that room and end up waking him Matt will flip. I'll just wait a few more minutes and smoke another cigarette, if Sam cries i'll get him, if he doesn't i'll leave it be.

She finish her cigarette certain everything was perfectly fine. She believed Sam was sleeping in the safety of Matt's protection. Matt had always referred to Sam as his son ever since Eve's belly began to show she was pregnant with Sam, she trusted him. With her mind at ease she returned to the living-room and out the front door.  The Cadillac took off leaving Amanda behind. She watched Amanda walk along side of the house heading towards the back yard. Eve followed Amanda until she turned snapping her words she instructed Eve to leave her alone. Eve turned around entering the house through the front door.  Amanda entered the house through the back entrance minutes after eve had sat down next Julie. Amanda joined them in the living-room visibly upset making it clear she was not happy that Jeff left to take Jake home. Soon after Matt ran through back door yelling ,

"Help! He's not breathing, he's not breathing!"

The girls met him at the frame of the door leading to the kitchen. They shouted at him demanding to know what had happened. He told them Sam must have swallowed a rock. Everything swirled into a blur and Eve took her baby from him grabbing her coat on the way out running, following Julie.

Eve blinked through tears returning her to the room where the detectives sat in front of her. She shook head resting her arms on the table saying,

"That's all i know."

"Tell us again, from the beginning, what happened?"

The detectives took turns insisting she tell them over and over again what she knew. After the fifth time through the events of that night she lost her composer. Eve slammed her hands down on the table as she stood from the chair screaming,

"I already told you what happen. Why are you doing this? How many times do I have to tell you?"

She hung her head low clearing her mind making sense of the situation. She looked up at them, in a confused voice she said,

"You think i killed my baby?'

Her voice hardened raising slightly.

"Is that what you think? Is that why your doing this? I didn't **** my baby, I didn't **** him."

Defeated she fell into her chair. The detectives looked at each other then turned off the recorder.

"We're finished."

They both said softly standing then leaving the room. Some time later a police officer opened the door leading her to another room with a table in the center surrounded with chairs and a two-sided mirror next to it. Her eyes leaked endless amounts of sorrow flowing, falling with every step she took towards the chair she pulled out sitting so that she faced the mirror. The door closed with the officers exit and she let out a wail of enormous heartbreak, sorrow, and just flat out pain.

What happened? Oh god, bring him back. Tell me what happened. Why?

She pleaded silently with her God. She watched herself in the mirror thinking,

I should have never left the bed. I should have made him fall asleep.

Feeling faint her eyes throbbed making her head pound deeper pulsing down her neck. Eve pushed two chairs together curling on to them making her hands her pillow. She closed her eyes wishing that when she opened them she'd be next to Sam in bed. But she open her eyes and saw the carpet of the room, she began to sob. The door opened with the familiar face of the officer who lead her to the exit of the police station informing her she was free to go. The light of the sun blinded her sending her into a daze. Nora and Julie soon joined her and she asked Julie's mother Nora,

"Where's Matt?"

Nora turned to Eve shushing her with a finger to her lips. When they arrived home Nora requested the girl join her in her room. Once there Nora instructed the girls to sit on the bed. They did as asked then Nora faced the floor slowly and clearly she said,

"Matt killed Sam!"

With the sounds of those words Eve's world turned, crumbling. Nora informed the girls what Matt had done to the child. They all cried in pain knowing nothing could ever be the way it was before. Now those loving feeling she felt for Matt in the darkest corners of her mind echo'd, slithering, completely tainted by the unspeakable evil he committed against her son resonated throughout her being.

Matt opened his eyes when he felt the shift in the bed. He turn towards Eve frozen he watched Jake kissing what was suppose to be his. Eve laid there as Jake kissed her. With heartache accompanied by disbelief Matt regained his ability to react but instead he left the comfort of the warm bed. Just then Eve slapped Jake.


Typical, now that  she sees i'm awake she goes into defense mode. **** she always doing this, ******* with my head. God your such a ******* ****, Eve!


He left the room quickly making his way to the recliner. His head was pounding feeling the need of destruction rise with in him. Unwilling to give into the desire he settled his sights on the television. He turned it on flipping trough the channels and raising the volume wanting to drown out the sounds he knew would shortly follow from what he had witnessed. He covered his ears refusing to hear her moans penetrate his heart as Jake penetrated her.


She would, that *****. Just give herself to another man, another man who isn't me.

As the unfamiliar voice floated unclear from the man on the television to his ears he remembered the first time he had laid eyes on Eve. He was with his cousin visiting  his sister at her friends house. Matt and his cousin were entertaining with their playful rough housing.  He had his cousin in a head lock about to take him down when she stepped out from behind the bedroom door. Her eyes met his and he stood still. She flashed a smile at him as he unsuccessfully tried to do the same. He hadn't even realized his cousin had escaped his grasp. He felt the corners of his mouth begin to turn up into a smile and she turned her attention to the right of him. It was then he knew he was going down. He hit the ground hard feeling the vibration pulsing from the ground beneath him where his back made impact. He quickly rolled to his stomach rising up on his knees and hands. He looked up at Eve, she was laughing, her eyes where lit and he was in awe. Her expression change  to match the feeling of the impact of his cousin lunging himself up in the air and crashing down on his back. Matt's cheeks filled with heat as he focused in on his cousin. He pinned him down then scanned the room for Eve, but she was gone. The memory faded with a crash that startled him. He looked around the room then realized the noise had come from the television. He turned it down, way down deciding he wanted to hear if she would dare **** him in his sisters bed. He sat in the recliner balling his hand into fists waiting, listing for the faintest of sounds from Eve. Moments later he heard a distorted laugh and turned his upper body in its direction. Jake stood there staring back at him with smug amusement plastered on his face. Matt's already tense body began to flare engorged muscles. He was ready to take him when Jake sent a smile at him. Matt could feel his blood boiling, pounding, rushing through his veins reaching his heart quivering in anticipation waiting for the slightest movement in his direction. He studied Jake.


What does Eve see in this ******? He cant be that great, its only been five minutes. I'll bet she'll be on to the next guy by tomorrow, or back to Derek. Ah ****!


Images of Sam's father plagued Matt.


She ******* knows i hate Derek.

Flashes sparked in his eyes and he played the memory's tune. They had been arguing on the front porch while Matt's little brother ran circles around them.


"If you ever let Derek come over here, ill kick his ******* ***!" ,Matt informed Eve.


"Whatever Matt! He's Sams father and if he wants to see his son, he's gonna." , she countered.

Matt bounced up and down with anger. Eve dismissed his primitive dance and went inside. Matt blinked escaping the memory, fixating his eyes on Jake. Jake turned his attention down the kitchen then back at Matt. Matt narrowed his eyes when Jake dared another smile at him before going into the kitchen. The destructive desire with in him ignited and he beat his fists into the arm rests of the recliner. Shortly after Eve appeared.

"Where's your sister at?" , she asked.

"*******, you hateful *****, ******* ****." , he said in a whisper.

"What?" , she said.

Matt was over flowing with the urge to devour her with hateful slurs. He slightly turned his head to her refusing to look at her directly.

"How should i know, maybe she's with your boyfriend." ,he said.

"What's you problem Matt?" , she questioned him.

Matt took pleasure in the irritation in her voice and retaliated with, "You should know."

"Whatever Matt." , she sneered at him.

As Eve entered the kitchen Matt inhaled and swallowed his breath. He fought the desire to slap the **** out of Eve. Matt bathed in relief when he saw Eve out of the comer of his eye a few seconds later. She walked by heading to the bedroom with Sam and a bottle. She looked his way only to see his eyes piercing her with a glare. She tilted her head up at him calling him out on his **** and stuck her tongue out at him before she disappeared into the room. With that his jealousy was extinguished.

Matt turned off the television in hopes peace would present its self in the shadows clinging to the silence of the living-room. He closed his eyes, filling his lungs, grasping that moment desiring to hold it prisoner.

Nope, no use, there it is rising again.

Matt soaked in the fury that slowly brewed into wrath savoring the delicate temper pulsing in his heart. He began to enjoy  himself entertaining all the things he could do to make Eve regret ever messing with his head. Matt watch scenario after scenario trading smirks of pleasure with each one. He welcomed them to appear, fade, then reappear, each one bringing a mending sliver of an antidote to his heartache. Sams crying followed by Eve's echo'd pain slapped Matt's plotting revenge leaving his heartache to thrive. Instinctively he felt the brief urge to know what was happening. He shook his head refusing to go to her.

Why should i give a ****? She doesn't.

Several minutes later Eve appeared from the bedroom holding Sam. This time he met her at eye level waiting to see if she would offer an explanation or sign of regret. Eve's face failed to demonstrate any emotion that might have laid beneath. She held her sight steady on her path passing refusing to look his way til she was gone from his view. Every scenario Matt had planned collided crashing against one another til they were just ruble being sweep away by his sadness. Without permission his emotions flooded spilling out, each tear represented a different one. He stood then paced from one end of the room to the next. He opened the front door needing fresh air to cool his head. He blinked through blurry tears then quickly closed the front door when the cream colored Cadillac came into focus. Wiping his tear he peered out the window. He recognized Amanda sitting in the front passenger seat sobbing uncontrollably. Matt didn't need to see the driver to know who he was. Jeff was never far behind Jake.

Jake and Jeff, ******* *******, always together.

He stepped away from the window and with a moments thought headed to his room. As he approached his bedroom door he could hear Julie, Jake, Eve and Sam from behind it. He walk through the door way looking from Julie to Jake before sitting down on his bed. Jake laughed sending Matt into his own life altering path. Left there for safe keeping Matt pulled out a Budweiser from between his mattress. He knew he had a probation appointment the next day that would result in a ***** UA, but that was the point. He didn't give a ****.

Jake had just turned the corner of the bedroom leaving Eve behind with all his proclaimed love he had professed to her. He grind-ed his teeth as her words swam in his mind. He could still hear her say,


"No, i don't want you. I will never accept you now or ever."


Tears welled in his eyes spilling over and down his cheeks. He looked up as he entered the living-room. He spotted Matt sitting there in the recliner closest to the window facing the television in the dark. The light the television gave off made the living-room flicker in an eerie way. He felt his emotions building, anger, hatred, love, lust, then hatred again. He stood still for second watching Matt as he let anger explode into rage with in him.


Matt had been there laying next to my Eve.

He thought while envy followed  jealousy consuming him.


How could she prefer him to me? He's nothing but a boy, worthless and pathetic.

The thought made a smile appear on his face. Laughter began to build past his rage and a faint chuckle found its way past his lips and Matt turned in his recliner to face him. To Jake's amusement he saw in Matt's eyes feelings that matched his own. Jake's smile grew causing flames of rage, disgust, envy and jealousy to die down. Now those feelings were replaced by satisfaction, serenity and joy. Oh the joy he felt seeing Matt's rage stir deep inside. It was then he decided to befriend the boy.

Matt is young and impressionable, he could easily be used against Eve. If she doesn't want me then she will suffer.

While he thought silently to himself he noticed Julie waving to him. Past the kitchen the back door was open, she stood in the doorway still motioning him to walk over to her. He glanced  over at Matt noticing he had his hands balled into fists. He wondered if Matt actually had the courage to attack him. He flashed another smile at Matt before turning into the kitchen making his way toward Julie. He knew what she wanted and she was going to get it. Jake patted the pocket he had his ******* in reassuring himself it was still there.

The day was very merry, the day was very grand,
Until Matt ruined it by getting stabbed in the hand.
He accidentally ran into a pencil,
He was showing off, just for the thrill.
In that moment, everyone was in shock,
Blood all over his shirt like a surgeon’s smock

The day was very merry, the day was very grand,
Until Matt ruined it by getting stabbed in the hand.
We ran looking for help, in that empty neighborhood,
No one seeming to notice that our situation was not good.
But alas, no one came to our rescue,
And we had no idea what to do.

The day was very merry, the day was very grand,
Until Matt ruined it by getting stabbed in the hand.
A woman drove up, in a white minivan,
She quickly saw the wound on Matt’s hand.
We gave our friend to this good samaritan,
We waved goodbye to Matt as he approached the van and got in.

The day was very merry, the day was very grand,
Until Matt ruined it by getting stabbed in the hand.
After this, we all quickly realized,
We had given our friend to a stranger, and had even said our goodbyes.
We knew we had to find him, and it had to be soon,
We feared matt would be riding to his impending doom.
So we went, house to house, knocking on every door,
Until we found the right one, and we were rid of our horror.

why can't people just
walk by a celebrity
say matt damon
say you saw matt damon
and he was wearing a hat
and holding his head down
so no one would recognize him
and you thought about going up to him and going
you're matt damon
and him saying
yes
and hating you
but instead
why not keep walking
avoid eye contact
pay no mind to matt damon
and never tell anyone
you saw him
dont put any more matt damon consciousness out there
for people to think
and increase his inability
to avoid you
and have a regular day of life
without someone going
hey
you're matt damon

Eve awoke to Jake knelled at her bedside, kissing her with a disparate force. Rough with his hand on her ******* and delicate with his pressing lips on hers. However, Eve was not fascinated by his actions. In fact she was quite offended. She had never gave Jake the idea it was okay to touch her, let alone kiss her awake or sleeping. But here he was groping her ******* and forcing the on going kiss. As quickly as her eyes opened her hands were at rejecting Jake. Eve slapped him while yelling,
"What makes you think you have my permission to kiss me while i'm sleeping, if you don't have it when i'm awake."
Jake smiled and shook his head, then traded glances with Eve and the floor. A faint giggle escaped his lips as he moistened them with tip of his tongue. He looked straight into Eve's eyes then said,
" I didn't need your permission."
Taken back by his statement she glared with hatred at him. He continued speaking,
"Eve you know i love you. You know i want you, but if you don't accept me now i will never beg you again."
She studied him carefully. His smoldering black curls resting on his cheeks. His smile faded then disappeared, straight and serious. His brown eyes glazed with tears, still searching and begging for a sign of acceptance. She felt such pity for him, he was incapable of understanding she did not want him. Sure he was attractive muscular and fit, but he was also arrogant and crude. Something she just did not take to. Eve swallowed her fear of angering him. With a firm even tone she gave her answer,
"No, i don't want you, i will not accept you now or ever."
His eyes changed instantly filling with rage. He punched the bed then grabbed her wrist pulling her close, tightening his grip.
"I can take care of you and your son better than anyone. You both will never want for anything, just say yes", he insisted.
"Let go of me Jake, i don't want you", she replied through clenched teeth.
He held his grip watching her then releasing her with new found disgust for her. He rose to his feet and turned towards the door. Taking each step slowly as if he was still clinging to hope that she'd change her mind and call out for him. Eve nursed her wrists where his grip had been. She watched the finally hint of his shadow disappear out the bedroom door.
"Well that was creepy", she said to herself.
Just then her son who had laid sleeping beside her in the middle of the bed let out a wail. He sat up rubbing his eyes and cried. Eve sighed,
"Oh great so much for sleeping."
Eve left the warm inviting bed. She scooped her son into her arms placing him off to the side so he could wrap his legs around her. Sam whimpered at her. In her mothering voice she told him,
"Hush Sam i'm going to get you a bottle just as fast as i can move."
Turning out the door of the bedroom and into the living-room she spotted Matt sitting in the recliner with his eyes fixated on the television.
"Where's your sister at?", she asked Matt.
He mumbled under his breath. Unable to make out his response she said,
"What?"
His head slightly Turned towards her but his eyes did not.
"How should i know, maybe she's with your boyfriend.", he snapped at her still refusing to properly look at her.
"Whats your problem Matt?", she questioned him.
"You should know.", he said rolling his eyes.
Eve tried to calm her hungry distraught son as she replayed the uncomfortable conversation with Jake in her mind. There it was, gone unnoticed at the time. But now it was so clear, Matt had been sleeping in the bed with her and Sam. She recalled the shift in the mattress when Matt had left it. His shadow sliding past her as she slapped Jake. How much did he see? Had he watched as Jake kissed her?
"Why Didn't Matt stop Jake from kissing me?", she thought.
Displeased by the memory and her thoughts she rolled her eyes and rudely said,
"Whatever Matt."
Had he defended her or stayed he would have known Jake's advancements towards her were unwelcome. She left the living-room entering the kitchen to fetch her sons bottle already prepared in the frig.
Eve headed towards the bedroom with her now content son. As she passed the living-room she noticed Matt's glare and reaction to hers. She stuck her tongue out at him. Matt inhaled deeply before returning his attention to the television. Eve climbed into bed with her son hoping he'd fall back asleep. After 45 minutes it was clear that was not going to happen.

Matt had just finished reading the letter Eve wrote him. As always she said she loved him and forgave him among other things. Though he wasn't sure he believed her anymore about anything she said. Eve had asked him so many times why he had killed Sam. On September 17th, 2003 he decided if he just told her maybe she would finally hate him. He started to write the letter that would finally put an end to all of Eve's endless searching for answers that could never justify his actions. He began to stroke the tip of his pencil to the paper as the memory materialized claiming his mind leaving a simple fool behind with his empty eyes staring down at the prison floor.  

Eve sat on the couch that rested against the wall in the master bedroom that at the time had been Julie's room. Matt sat a few feet away from her in a folding chair babbling about anything he could to keep the conversation going with her. Eve invited Matt to accompany her outside to share a cigarette, with a smile of relief he agreed. Once finished they returned to the bedroom. This time they sat closer together with a small table between them. With a quick gesture he presented the deck of cards.

"Would you like me to tell you your future?"

he asked displaying a smile as cheesy as the idea that he could actually predict her future with playing cards.  His eyebrows shot up and down in a rhythm that prevented Eve from repressing the grin that surfaced mimicking  his own.

"You guys are ******* stupid."

The sound of Julie's voice penetrated the invisible bubble that had been cast by their foolish adolescence. Julie's laughter left their cheeks warm with embarrassment silencing their emotions. They both awkwardly searched the room unwilling to make eye contact. Matt combed through his hair with his hand resurrecting the nerve to look up at her with those lost eyes she enjoyed so much. When his nerve remained steady he spoke,

"Let's go to the living-room?"

She couldn't help but smile. Still flushed she eagerly agreed, happy to get away from Julie and the others in the bedroom. He carried the little table while she carried the folding chair following him to the living-room. They positioned the chair and table in front of the recliner where he sat across from her. He began to shuffle the cards telling her,

"I'm serious, i can read your future with these cards. Just ask me any question you wanna know about. Then pick a card from the deck and i'll answer it."

Knowing he was completely full of ****, once again, she smiled at him. He laid the cards out on the table spreading them out for her.

"Go on, ask. Pick one."

he said with a serious look that changed into a cocky grin. She leaned forward in her chair relaxing the muscles in her face. She brought her hand up allowing her chin to rest between her index finger and thumb then she squinted her eyes at the cards as she said,

"Hmmm... let me think.

When she knew what question to ask she spoke. While asking her question she released her chin pointing her index finger up towards the ceiling then at him. When she finished her sentence she placed her hand  on her lap.

Oh I know! Remember when I told you that I love to write?"

He swallowed hard and admitted,

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, my question is, will i ever write a book?"

She folded her arms across her chest cocking her head to the side then lifting a brow at him waiting with anticipation for the answer to her question. His eyes widened and he inhaled deeply telling her in a flat tone,

"Pick a card".

She hovered her hand over the cards, scanning back and forth stopping in the center she pulled the card up handing it to him. He took it from her turning it over onto the table. He placed both arms on the table leaning down towards the table to studying the card. He then looked up at her with amazement and said,

"Oh this is interesting."

Her eyes brightened letting laughter fill the air around them.  

'Yeah? Tell me. What do you see?"

"Hold on. There's more."

He looked back down at the card. He began to tap his fingers on the table taking his time to respond.

"Okay, I think I got it all. You will write a book. As a matter of fact, you'll write more than one. You actually become quite good at writing. I can tell just by looking at this one card."

"Huh, is that right? And does the card tell you what i'm going to write about?"

"Yes, it does. But i think i'll let that be a mystery."

They both laughed. Matt crashed into reality as her laughter faded in his mind. He stared down at the blank piece of paper. Finally he began to write the letter he had been advised by his lawyer and his conscience not to write.

Eve,
  

Hello. uh, ****. I thought about writing this letter so many times and now that it's time, I can't figure out what I should say. I guess I should start out apologizing, but i won't.  There's no point in me saying I'm sorry because no matter how many times I say it, it will never be enough. And you don't have to apologize for taking a long time to write because in my mind it is truly a blessing to have ever gotten a letter from you, given the circumstances.  And i won't be getting my high school diploma because I got kicked out of the program. They kicked me out for no reason. I'm out with the adults now which is cool. I haven't gone to my unit yet because I'm in the hole and i get out the day after tomorrow, Friday the 19th. Well, since you asked, I've been in here being a hell raising down *** ***** ***** trying to make it seem as though I'm not scared of being locked in a cage with the rest of these murderers, thief's, **** o's and other type of bad guys. But I guess I'm one of them now. I'm not really that scared anymore. I got some nice size arms from doing push ups and I'm an okay fighter. I'm a real troublesome inmate. I've spent like 10 months in the hole in total. But before I continue let me say what I got to say. You've asked me in county jail and many other times so here it is... o.k. you Julie, Amanda, Jeff and Jake left somewhere and I was in my room with Sam. Sam starts crying like hell and I finally get him to stop so me and him are chilling, thinking where the hell you are and Amanda pops her head in the door then leaves. Sam probably thought it was you and he starts screaming and then i started to think about how someone stole my money, my cigarettes, most of my beers, screaming, my mom accuses me of stealing gum, ritain pills, ****, and robbing Katie's house, screaming, you treat me like I'm for you to use when your feel like it, broke one of my speakers, Derek comes out of no where and you love him, screaming, I don't got no money, probation officer never leaves me alone, radio is ****** up, school *****, about to go juvie for a ***** U.A.  All of those thoughts came to me at once and the next thing i know I'm watching me lift Sam by his neck, throw him on the bed and start punching him in the chest. I tried to stop myself but I was moving in slow motion while I'm punching as hard and as fast as I can and then i stopped.

Matt stopped reading the letter unable to relive the memory any further. He folded it and placed it  in the already addressed envelope.

Rick* - Are things getting better or worse between you two?
Matt - Well…things aren’t getting worse so that’s much better.
Rick - What’s so much better about it?
Matt - Everything…everyone...
Rick - In *every way?
Matt - More or less.
Rick - Less is more, even more so.
Matt - On what terms?
Rick - Everything.
Matt - Everything seems to be getting worse.
Rick - Are you two together for the better or for the worse?
Matt - We’re together to get better, not worse.
Rick - But, who’s getting better?
Matt - We both are. But we’re still love sick.
Rick - Or are you still sick of love?
Matt - No, I really do love her.
Rick - As sick as it sounds, I’m proud of you.
                 Rick walks out of the room

© Matthew Harlovic

Eve tormented herself daily for the death of Sam. To her it was the not knowing what had lead Matt to **** Sam that really plunged the dagger of self hatred and regret into her repeatedly each second of each day. She had asked Matt countless times to tell her what had happened. He would either refused with an explanation of not wanting to upset her or he'd just avoid the question altogether. On one occasion she begged him for closure in the form of a written letter. His response was that maybe they should quit writing each other. Enduring his refusal fueled her further into depression leading her down a path of anger  towards destruction and with that she began to lose hope she'd ever know why. She had forgiven him, even told him she still loved him from the very first letter she sent him. Still he could not find it in his heart to tell her. At first each letter she received gave her hope it would contain an explanation, but at the end of each one she was left broken by the lack of information. Eve learned to smile for the people who surrounded her in her life including the friends she shared with Matt making them believe she was okay to an extent for the sake of knowing what Matt refused to tell her. She knew the autopsy listed the cause of death as aspiration and cardiac arrhythmia due to sudden impact to the chest supporting Nora's claim of what Matt had done. To her that was a cause of death not a reason why Matt killed her son. She needed to know why in order to let go and move on. So much had change since the night Sam had died on Oct 12th 2001 between the hours of 3-4 am. On Sept 23rd 2003 a letter would arrive to Nora's address for Eve finally giving her the answer why Sam was murdered.

Eve drag out that day just like any other, step by step, obsessing over the death of her son. She walked the sixteen blocks from her mothers house to Julie's apartment with her head low and her spirits lower. On her way a small Honda drove slow and close to the curb containing the woman that had once been her friend. Alice dove the Honda spitting hateful remarks at Eve,

"What's the matter *****, you ain't got a car?"

Eve glanced towards her with sad eyes that held the pain of her life refusing to let the tears hidden beneath make an appearance. Instead she glared offering Alice anger instead of sorrow before turning her attention to the pavement of the sidewalk ahead of her. Alice laughed with excitement as she continued to beat her words into Eve's reality,

"Keep walking *****. Just keep walking. You ain't **** ugly *** *****."

Alice's words were echo'd by the laughter of the passengers in her car. To Eve's relief Alice drove off leaving her to enjoy her misery alone. When she arrived to Julie's apartment she found the front door open. She stepped inside the apartment with Julie in her line of sight she made her way to and sat on the couch next to her.

"Hey girl. Watcha up to?"

Julie said as she dug through her purse. Eve answered with an even tone,

"Not much just bored."

"My mom gave me this for you. It's from Matt."

she said as she handed the envelope to Eve. Eve took it from her with glimmer of hope and an anchor of regret. She opened it and began to read the letter. When she arrived at the sentence that started the events of the night her son was murdered through Matts point of view she stop and headed to the bathroom. She closed the door then let herself fall to the floor as she continued to read the details. She arrived to words-I stopped and buried her head in her lap as she screamed with agony. Tears flowed as she lifted her head spilling and crashing onto the letter she had waited one year, eleven months, one week and one day to read. She gasped choking the air down her throat as Sams voice played through her mind hearing his last words. She could see her baby's face in the glare of her tears that continues to spill. Regardless she kept reading.

It was so quiet my ears were ringing. Then i took him inside and you left to the hospital. I got a ****** up mind and i went crazy, I lost it. Now i'm in here and I read the some strong signs of a ego disharmonious killer is abuse, cruelty to animals and arson. When I was little my mom and my uncle used to beat the **** out of me and I've burnt two houses that my mom was renting. When I moved to Peach Springs i burnt somebody's elses house, i burnt a garage like four cars and probably like twenty trash cans. I won't even start with how many animals i was cruel to. But all that ***** in my past. So ima stop talking about it. I'm sorry for the ****** up **** I've done but I am what I am. And I hope that my stay in prison will help me to change. I've been thinking about a lot of **** in here and I think I should have just walked away but i was so drawn to you. I should have just left you alone but I was drawn to you. By what? Love? I don't know and wish I did. But I'm not gonna start talking about love, because it's like you said love can hurt as we all know. So **** love, know what I'm saying? You said you loved me, did I believe it? No. I said i loved you, did you believe me? Probably ******* not, so **** love. About those letter you said you wrote, just get rid of them. Three year, two months, two weeks and four days that's how old he'd be now. I think about him all the time. I sit here and wonder what his voice would sound like. I would really like a picture of you. I haven't seen you since my court date and it wasn't really tryin to look you in the face then you were crying. Do you ever wonder what it would be like if I never did what I did? What would be up with you and me? I do, I think about what could've been, what might have been, and what would have never been. And I always ask myself, what were we? I can't put a name to it. What were we Eve? Do you even know? I hope you like the drawing on the envelope, i think it's good for you because i always thought you had beautiful eyes. Besides, all my other envelopes got hearts and roses on them. The one with the roses says love you and you don't want to hear that ****. So, bye                                                    

        September 17,2003                                                                Matt

P.S.
Would you please tell Julie to write me and I said Hi.

Eve felt lost and catastrophic. She sat on the bathroom floor for twenty minutes after she finished reading the letter without making a sound as she continued to release her sorrow.

Matt and John sat at John’s kitchen table,
it was 5’clock in the morning,
there was plenty of time
but there was none to waste.
John was glad that Linda and his daughter
were still upstairs asleep.
He was glad too that Matt was driving;
no one knew the streets and alleys better.
John thought that Matt was a bag of hammers,
but he was loyal as hell, kept quiet most of the time,
was brave to the point of stupidity, and drove like a bat.
John got up from his chair;
poured another coffee.
Matt nursed a beer.

Everything they needed was in the mini-van;
an innocuous thing lifted rather smartly from
a long-term parking lot near the airport.

Pistols not shotguns, John had insisted.
Matt’s argument was simply that shotguns
were scarier.

John lit a cigarette and sipped some
coffee.

First National would fall.
John was sure of it.
He and Matt would leave
that bank’s lobby with about
3 million dollars strapped to their backs;
they’d lose the bulls, skate by the house,
pick up the girls, and be California-bound
by the time the fast food joints
stopped serving breakfast.

On the other side of town,
the police barracks was alive
with activity.
Two old-school throwbacks
Det. Luke Richardson and his partner,
Det. Mark Gonzalez, had gotten
a tip.

A greasy little stool-pigeon
named Hector had said
the word was that Johnny Dunn
and his raw-wired cousin, Matt,
were planning to take down First National Bank
on Friday, the first of the month,
payroll day.

They’d been leaning
on Hector for a couple
of months,
finally offering
him a knockback
on a B & E pinch
that they’d held
over his head like
an anvil.

Hector squawked
for immunity on that one
as well as
state’s evidence
regarding chatter
he’d heard about
the bank job.

Their gear was set,
vests cinched tight,
shotguns in the car.
Their service pistols cleaned,
oiled, and loaded,
with one in the chamber.
Holdout pieces strapped
to their ankles.

It was about 6:45 am,
First National’s drive-thru
opened at 7:30.
The lobby would open by 9,
but staff would be in the building
by 7;
tellers making sure their cash-drawers
were customer-ready.

The two detectives left
the briefing room,
strode the short distance
to the motor pool,
started the car…
the radio crackled
to life…

static
All units this is Control
static
We have a silent alarm triggered
for a 211 in progress
at 14th and  Carver Avenue
static
First National Bank
static

Mark was behind the wheel,
Luke flipped on the siren,
it blipped then began to wail.

The Gospel was being written.
All units, saints and sinners,
were on the move.
*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications

Jake met Julie at the door way taking in her beauty lit under the glow of the moonlight.  He retrieved  the ******* from his pocket parading it in front of Julie.

"You want some?",

he asked tempting her.With ease she smiled at him.

"Come on, lets go in here.",

she answered leading him into Matt's bedroom. Upon entering the room Jake noticed it was an addition to the house. Three walls were made up of bare ply wood lacking insulation and paint. The fourth was the siding of the house painted Brown with a window  leading to the master bedroom. The room had a dirt floor with rocks scattered about. A few feet from the door there were two chairs across from each other leading to a tiny walk way between two beds lined up side by side. Curious about the master bedroom window he pointed to it asking,

"Where's the curtain?"

"Oh um, My mom likes to watch.",

she answered with laughter as she collected her hair pulling it to one side over her shoulder. She turned her head towards the window wondering if her mother was indeed watching them. Jake presented the fine white powder serving it  as if it were an appetizer.  Julie inhaled it feeling the surge of the high mixing in and with her blood. Jake took several hits himself trying to shake what remained of Eve's rejection. Several minutes later Eve entered the room holding Sam. She sat in the chair across from Julie with Jake to her left on the furthest from the brown wall. Ignoring Jake's presence she ask,

"What you up to Jewels?"

Julie pointed the coke saying,

"Just doing a little of this. You want some?"

"Uh no, i'm okay."

"Just try it you might like it?"

"What's it feel like?"

"Um, i don't know, GOOD. Just take little if you don't like it just stop."

"Okay."

Jake didn't mind that he sat silently listening to them talk. He was eager to supply his drugs to the girls. When Eve decided to take the hit Jake felt his mind race.He smiled kindly at Eve with a glimmer of hope twinkling in his eyes he thought,

I hope this ***** gets hooked, then she'll come to me willing.

Jake watched Eve stand then walk over to the bed across from  where he was sitting gently placing Sam in the center before walking over to Julie. As she passed Jake he reached out touching her hip. Eve jumped shooing him away. Jake loved seeing Eve uncomfortable and angry. In his mind it meant he could then be sweet and loving. Jake served up his drug of choice handing it to Julie, she then held it steady for Eve to inhale. Eve licked her lips spinning inside she felt the rush of the drug. Matt joined them, in a bitter frenzy he pulled beer after  beer from between his mattress til he had consumed five. Julie warned Matt he would end up in jail if he didn't stop. Her words only fueled him and Jake saw his opportunity. He offered Matt some of the ******* ignoring the girls as they yelled at him not to dare. Jake drank the rush that washed through him making two plump lines for Matt. Jake sat on the edge of the bed gripped by anticipation while Matt took a line in each nostril.

Mission complete. If Matt doesn't consider me a possible friend now, at least Eve isn't happy with him.

Back at Donnie's place
this chick had shown me her ****.
Her brother was some guy we ran with.
She had just gotten her ******* pierced
and wanted to know what I thought.
She was a thick girl
with blonde hair
and big chubby ****.
Later
we were at a bar
one of our friends was the DJ
and another was the doorman
so all of us 18 year-old scumbags
were able to drink without too much hassle.
The night started the same way it always did
the first song of the night was always the same
'Symphony of Destruction' by Megadeth
our whole crew sitting in the corner booths
out of the light & in the dark.
We were the dimmer of lights
The party crashers
The woman stealers
The Black Circle.
We downed shot after shot
of this green **** they had
called 'Zombie'.
Drunk off my ***
feeling warm & fuzzy
I went outside for a smoke.
Matt W. ***** lay next to me on the concrete patio
in the back alley of the bar.
I had barely lit the cigarette
when the thick girl with
the big pierced ******* came out back.
We made ******* conversation
for about a minute
before I asked to see her **** again.
She carefully pulled them out
wincing at how sore they still were.
We started making out
and she asked me if I wanted to go somewhere.
I motioned towards the darkened alley behind us.
Matt lay on the ground
Laughing to himself and staring at the night sky
Taking long drags from his cigarette.
In the dark behind some cardboard boxes
And empty liquor crates
She kissed me hard and messy
Both of us reeking of ***** and cigarettes
That stinky combination.
“Why don’t you let those get some air?”
I asked, pointing at her massive mammaries.
“Okay, but…be gentle okay? They’re still really sore.”
“You got it darlin’.”
And out they came, hanging like gods in the sky
I was down on my knees
With my head under her skirt
Just going to town on this thick chick
Like I hadn’t eaten for weeks.
Her hands gripping my greasy hair
And pulling hard
As I got faster and faster
Licking and ******* like my life depended on it
Reaching up and squeezing those *******
As gently as I possibly could.
And then she tensed up
Her knees shaking, trembling, and finally
Buckling as she came
Still holding me by the hair
She pulled me back and out from under that little red skirt.
“Oh my god. Just give me a second.”
She asked, trying to catch her breath
And stop her legs from shaking.
I stood up and gave her a ***** flavored kiss.
“Well?” I asked.
“I’ll go down on you…..if that’s what you want…”
“Of course.”
And she got down on her knees
In that dark alley.
“Ouch.” She squeeled.
“What is it?”
“The ground’s got a bunch of rocks or some ****. ****.”
“Here…” I grabbed one of the cardboard boxes
broke it down in a matter of seconds
and laid it on the ground
at my feet.
“There ya go.”
Before she put it in her mouth
She laughed.
“You’re such a gentleman.”
“I have my moments.”
Afterwards
I walked back over to Matt on the patio
Buckling up my pants.
The lady thanked me
Said it was nice meeting me
And walked back inside to her brother and friends.
Donnie was now sitting with Matt on the curb.
“Where the **** did you go?”
I just started laughing.
It took him a second, but Donnie figured it out.
“Did you just **** that fat chick?”
“No man. I just got a *******. That’s all.”
“What the **** Danny? What are you a male ******* or something?”
I just kept laughing
“Hey ******* man. Nobody gives a ******* like a fat chick.”
Matt rolled over and spoke up,
“The man has a point Donnie.”

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

i'm staring at the computer like i
usually do,
not doing anything to it
just sitting there.
staring at it.
depressed
more that depressed, i'm anxious
and nauseous.
i haven't eaten anything in three or
four days
i haven't slept more than two hours a night
for a whole week
i go to work, my job as a sign holder,
and i read a book
or stare off into space
trying to fight my thoughts, attempting
to remain with my mind in a void.
when i'm not at work
i drink water
and i stare at my computer screen.
well, these staring contests can last hours
hours and hours, all day if i'm lucky.
without a thought.
thoughts destroy,
thoughts are evil.
i do not like thinking.
i don't like thinking because i ******
everything up recently,
i won't bore you with the details,
but i can't shake the feeling that i found
a hole in time-space
i slipped through that hole into another
universe
in which my life is ****
in which my friends don't talk to me
in which going to work is the only time
when i can have peace from myself.
it's all completely backwards.
it's a weird universe, though not
that weird.
everything else is normal.
the only
difference
is my unhappiness. but that's a big
difference.
i'm not all too sure how i got here. one
minute i'm drunk
the next minute i'm in this other
dimension. (i've got this
theory that the small
change
is because the universes were so close to
each other,
so physically close (as far as d.d. is
concerned) in fact
that they pushed into each other for a
split second,
imagine a vinn diagram,
and after that small point on the cube that
is our universe,
they intersected and were exactly the same
but just for an instant,
and when these coiled arms of the 11th
dimension moved apart,
i was pulled back into the wrong dimension.
the other matt from this dimension (the one
i'm currently in,
where my life is ****)
got extradited back into the one
I'M originally from
(the one where my life is awesome)
i don't know.
maybe he wished for that to happen.
he wished 'my life ***** so bad, why
can't i trade places with a me from
a d.d.?
and he got his wish,
the ******* *******.)
it's like a dream, lemme tell you, a
nightmare actually.
y'know how in dreams you have this constant
feeling that
nothing is quite right,
but you push that away and
continue with your business?
it's this tiny inkling that "hmm, could
this be a dream?"
but you ignore it and continue catching
those ducks,
trying to catch those ducks,
you don't know why why these ducks are so
important,
but you've gotta get 'em
and you've gotta put 'em in a basket
problem is they keep hopping out of the
basket
and running away,
SO YOU GOTTA KEEP CATCHING 'EM ****.
anyway,
this dream is kind of like that
but actually its a lot different.
in this dream
i'm living a life that *****
i don't know how i got here
and i've got this dread that follows me
that when i get the chance, i'm not going
to be able to stop myself,
i'm just going to die.
it follows me everywhere,
and i know that as soon
as i let my guard
down
i'm gonna jump in front
of a car while at work.
i'm gonna down both bottles of my pills.
i'm gonna take that knife while
i'm making guacamole
and slash my wrists
and run out into the night
and leap into that creek
and i'm going to **** in water
until i drown
bleeding
there in the creek.
that's not all.
i keep losing time.
i'm falling through the
th dimension at an alarming rate,
this has of course been happening
for a long time,
not just after i slipped through
into another universe.
this has been happening my whole life.
one minute i'm doing something
the next minute i'm doing something else
but i get the sense of the time in between
but i don't know what happened for sure.
the jumps started out huge
and continued shrinking,
like some sort of reverse big-bang
is carrying me along,
i've got whole weeks and months
that i don't remember,
whole years in fact,
that seemed to speed by or have sped by.
time jumps, i don't remember
those times, but i know they happened,
and i've got a sense of it,
but i don't know for sure.
anyway, the jumps have shrunk down.
but now they're more obvious,
now that they're smaller.
so i'll be sitting here staring
at the computer
as usual
and suddenly i'll get the
feeling that i just smoked a cigarette
(this one just happened in fact)
i'll think "man, i wanna go smoke,
wait, didn't i just smoke?"
i know i did
but i don't remember it,
it seems like no time has passed.
i check my pack and, sure enough,
there's a cigarette missing.
i go to get a drink of water,
but then i realize i have a
glass of water in my hand.
"when did i get this? just now? what?"
time jumped forward a couple of seconds.
i'm losing time.
i don't like this.
i miss when time jumped by a lot.
the gaps were so big i
didn't even notice them.
"sorry, i don't remember that."
"did you say that?"
"wait, that happened?"
"where are we?"
"what am i doing here?"
"what do you mean i didn't
come into work on tuesday?"
"what do you mean i've
been missing for three weeks?"
"what do you mean i've been
asleep for 34 hours?"
"how did the food i was cooking burn?
i literally just turned it on!"
this is my life.
this has been my life.
this will be my life.
anyway; i mentioned that other matt.
he's exactly the same as me,
except we switched places.
he gets to live in the
dimension i'm originally from,
and i get to live in his ******
******* dimension
where he ruins everything he touches.
the ******* wished for this
so he could have a better life,
the dimensions pushed in on each other...
you remember
me telling you about that right?
so yeah.
i'm going to find a genie, i'm going
to build a dimension hopper,
i'm going to jump through a black hole,
i'm going to run to switzerland
and cause the
hadron collider to have a meltdown
and
i'm going to ride the shockwave back
to my own dimension
and i'm going to go to that other matt
who'll be laughing, sitting on a couch,
and drinking a beer,
thinking about how great his life is now
and i'm going to walk up to him,
he'll know who i am the instant he sees me,
and i'm going to grab him around
the throat with both of my hands
push my fingers into the part of the throat
right below where the lymph nodes are
and i'm going to choke him.
and he's going to see the rage in my eyes
and he's going to pass out from ox-dep.
i'm going to then carry his limp
body to a bathtub
and i'm going to chain him to the bath tub
and i'm going to start hitting
him with a hammer
first in the feet, he'll wake up after
the first blow,
and then in the shins,
and then in the knee caps
and i'm going to work my way up
i'm going to hit him in that spot
in our knees that
hurts so bad we puke when it gets hit
and i'm going to hit him in that
spot we're both
afraid of getting hit in because
it's so ******* creepy
and then i'm going to pound in his ribs
and he's gonna start puking blood because
of the fracture
and them
I'm going to break his collar bones
with the hammer.
and then i'll sit down on the toilet
and just stare at him.
he'll know not to talk, since we're the
same person,
but if he does i'll hit him in the teeth
with the hammer.
then, i'll just watch as he bleeds to
death.
one living matt
one dying matt
the exact same person except one
of us is a ******* *******
and the other is a regular *******.
i will watch him bleed and choke
and puke and cry
and finally die.
and then i'm going to get a hack saw,
cut him to pieces,
put the pieces in separate trash bags
and i'm going to disperse
them across the country.
or maybe i'll just throw them
in the trash
or burn them
it doesn't matter if someone
finds fragments of him
because we have the exact same DNA and
the exact same finger prints
the exact same tongue prints
the exact same palm prints
the exact same hair follicles
we're the same.
so if he dies, whatever. there's an extra.
and that extra is me.
and i will take his place
and in the other dimension,
the other you's
will not say ****.
as i come back into the room,
sit calmly back down,
grab the beer the other me was drinking
and say "sorry,
i had to take care of that doppleganger."
you will not say ****
the these you's (the ones reading this)
will know what happened when
suddenly
i disappear under
magical or paranormal or
simple
strange
circumstances
and you all will not say ****.
just in case i'll leave a note
and it will say
"sorry, had to step out for a bit.
also: **** all of you"

because so help me god,
i will find him
and i will eat him.
fin.

p.s. i feel a bit better now.

THE FERRIS WHEEL

I’ve always trusted machines, especially big ones. Like the ones at the annual county fair held at the Oklahoma City fairgrounds. After 2 weeks, the closing ceremony was always held in the main bull riding arena with a captivating routine performed by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. Even their dead horse was on display throughout the whole time of the fair. His name was Trigger and he was stuffed. Roy Rogers was so in love with Trigger that he couldn’t go on without him. So he had him stuffed and carted him around whatever circuit they might be on. It was a sad but interesting display. But now he had a new Trigger and new tricks which were somewhat entertaining.

In the fall of 1971, upon this particular day Matt, a friend of mine and I convinced my little brother Wayne to go on the biggest ride at the fair, the double Ferris wheel.  It was a Ferris wheel shaped like an 8. The two wheels were loaded one after the other. As the seats were filled the ride would continue going up, up, and up then reaching the apex of two circles, sitting in a little grated seat, held in by a bar that locked you in at the at the beginning of the ride. When you reached the top it felt like you were riding a cloud. Going over the top of the Ferris wheel was an unimaginable thrill, it was built to guarantee a belief that you would in no way survive. Then you would swing back and forth, waiting for the other circle of seats to be filled before the real ride began.

As Matt and I got into our seat, Wayne hopped in next to me. We heard the clangs of the operator shutting the bars over the riders locking them into place. But when we got to the operator, the familiar clang was more like a clunk. The bar had not latched. We were not locked in. Now in the back of my head I took this in, but I chose to ignore it. We went up a little higher as other patrons were clanged tightly into their seats. Then as we went up, people started getting bold, swinging their legs, rocking their seats like a swing chair. After moving up about 80 feet, Matt began to swing ours. ”This is cool, huh” he said, trying to hide any little creep of fear. “Yeah, this is really great”, I agreed. But I didn’t do anything to cause the seat to rock anymore than it already was. Wayne was silent, his eyes clenched shut.

All of a sudden, the whole apparatus raised us up into the atmosphere. I swear we were at least as high as the tallest building in the Oklahoma City skyline. I could tell Matt was truly scared and he had quit rocking the chair. That didn’t matter. One last jolt threw us over the top and the “safety” bar swung wide open, out and away before coming back slowly to rest on our laps providing no safety whatsoever. After the bar swung out a couple of more times I was convinced we were going to fall to our deaths and become county fair legends. All three of us clung to the grated back of the seat, our fingers drained of blood by holding on so tight. We came down three times past the operator of the Ferris wheel before we got his attention. But Wayne was clutched so tightly to the back of the seat; you couldn’t have separated him with a paint scraper. He would have died there had we finally not gotten the attention of the operator and the operator’s boss.

It was becoming apparent that something was dreadfully wrong, so the ride slowly and painfully came to a stop. Passengers at the top were swinging their seats unaware of our impending death. Finally the double wheel cranked our seat to the exit platform. We couldn’t speak. The breath was out of us. Yelling at this time was impossible. Everyone remembered Wayne. He was white as a ghost and his lips were blue. He had clutched so hard to the back of the seat the whole side of his face was imprinted with the grate. I found this very curious. There was a pattern similar to a waffle imprinted from his forehead to his chin. He was still white but the lines in the imprint were deep red. His eyes remained closed until I was able to convince him that the ground was 2 feet below him. Finally he let go, and all three of us were pried from the seat. The ground never felt as good as it did that day.

We were still crying and shaking when the Manager of the fairgrounds arrived and removed us to the calming area which also doubled as the baby animal petting zoo.  We sat down in the petting area allowing the straw to dry our pants as all three of us had literally peed in them. As our pants became drier, we became a little calmer and we began petting baby lambs and chicks.   Then I looked across the way at the oddities booth. I had been in there that day. They had all sorts of gross weird things in there. I was fascinated. Some of the exhibits were pickled and some were still living.  I saw 2-headed babies in pickle jars and a calf with a leg sticking out of its forehead. I didn’t even want to think about that now. Too late. I bent over and puked so hard my eyes bulged.

How to stop time: kiss.
How to travel in time: read.
How to escape time: music.
How to feel time: write.
How to release time: breathe.

-Matt Haig

A couple who found love had a little boy. On his birth date, in hospitals he was born dead. The cord had wrapped around his neck where he lost consciousness instantly killing him in his mother's womb.

The young couple was devastated from their loss and doctors began announcing the time of death of the newborn. Minutes carried away which seem like hours, but the child took his first breath.

It was unbelievable, almost impossible, but became possible after today. This child was later named Matthew. Matthew was black child whom lived in the south with his mom and pa. His family was considered poor because his mom worked 3 jobs and was still behind in bills. The family was stable built under the foundation of God, but the darkness and terror of this world frightened his mother.

She knew how powerful life and experienced it forehand with almost losing her child while delivering him. A mother's heart is nothing but love where naturally her instinct is the survival of her family.

Matthew honored his parents. His dad was later incarcerated when growing up. He was caught doing  petty crimes and sent to jail for hard time. While serving time, his father was diagnosed with cancer and later died.

Matthew and his mom was forced to survive on their own. He carried the strength of the family with promises of his father and  mother's hard work.

Even as a teen, he was a hungry soul ready to learn from the experiences and test of his determination for his family. He was a honor student, played all sports, and an active youth choir member.

One day while driving home in his mom's car, he was pulled over by cops. Officers, Bradley and Conner respond to the suspicion of a black van who were seen doing a drive-by earlier that week.

The black van was never seen again until police saw Matthew's mom car, which was also a black van but different model.

Cops pulled over Mat car and signal him to remain seated in his car with engine off.  The two officers walked slowly to his vehicle after scanning his plates  showing no records on the family.

Do you know why we pulled you over son? No, responded Matt. We been seeing a lot of drive-bys and this vehicle looks to match our suspicions.

No sir, I'm just a teen and never done any crime before replied Matt.

Oh okay. Well I will need to see some identification and registration.
Sure, replied Matt.

While reaching for his license, he had a knife in his pocket that needed to be pushed aside to only retrieve his wallet from his pocket. While reaching for his wallet, he pulled out the knife too. Officers immediately saw the shiny piece of metal and raised their gun. Without a second passing, Officer Bradley loaded his clip into Matt's chest.

The bullet pierced Matt's artery and heart killing him instantly.
The bullet made a way into his soul and eliminated him from the world. The bullet eliminated his rights, his integrity, his existence. The bullet silent the victim and allowed another to tell the story.

they day finishes with: at last! a schoth reserve
for highlands nomads!
     long gone is the fatamorgana of soberness
coupled with a very softcore soviet sleep
experiment: i chance you to also say:
the soviet sleep experiment is a way to censor
dreams, **** it: another paul mccartney
can write another yesterday into the repertoire,
you can hear of marathon-men who did over
100 hours without sleep, and when it came to
sleeping: hour-long interludes...
as all the p.o.w's realised was the case:
stop this dream-industry of disney! stop it!
nearing 36 hours is nothing,
when i'm going to do a hiatus in Poland visiting
my grandparents i'm planning to top that,
perhaps 48... just to get the glory days of Jews
in ancient Egypt and Joseph the adviser to
the pharaoh: 7 lean years, followed by 7 years
of starvation: what we otherwise carpe diem
over-indulgence - Moses wrote the book
of disgrace... when things turned sour,
obviously he was *******, just a little bit,
from a Jew becoming an adviser to the pharaoh
by interpreting his dreams which were always
in abundance given his lavish lifestyle...
dreams come to people who aspire to lavish
lifestyle, dreams come to people who take no
pleasure from the simplest prospects of a peaceful
hermitic life... they need both the lavish life
and the lavish hope of an afterlife with abundant
dreams... they can't master the opposite:
from simple pleasures that life has to offer:
one forsakes the capacity to the need to dream...
yet those who attain a comfortable Buddhist /
bourgeoisie / middle life: through the ethic of hard
labour find dreams nonsense... only
aristocrats find meaning in dreams, because
they have enough life insurance to guarantee them
the very unentertaining life, hence the Freudian
cinema, and here is their seeking of meaning,
because outside of their sleep nod,
their meaning is already akin to a predatory creature
kept in a zoological confinement, rather than
beckoned to attest the prime element beyond
the classical elements of fire and: where was the
Japanese army bombing the hell out of that
****** tsunami to make the orca-surf shrapnel?
where? nowhere! the reporters were there prior,
i'd swear you could have done the reverse Aleppo
with that tsunami wave by bombing it and
saving lives... but no... atoms bombs were never
intended for warfare as such, they're non-profitable...
all the arms-dealers across the world make more
money from millions of bullets and thousands upon
thousands of guns being sold: atom bombs make
no economic sense... atom bombs make
no economic sense in terms of dealing arms...
the soviet sleep experiment was one of the topics
at the end of today... the other was feline pavarotti
in a cattery: i swear to god that ginger is acting
too much like a bloodhound... moans all the ******
time, i've heard every kind of Tosca, but a cat's Tosca?
never in my life has a cat so many variable versions
of meow... animals really do possess their owners,
but in a way that shows the owners to themselves...
a poem a day: keeps the psychiatrist away.
and back to the soviets, who discovered Yiddish
dream-factory ******* that only applies to
aristocrats akin to Wilhelm Oedipus II,
    i never understood why people desired so much
from dreams, pure unconscious doesn't allow it,
it's shallow dreaming that becomes easily swayed
by a decreasing poignancy of the senses that
creates dreams, and as we've already been told:
they're bound to millisecond intervals -
snoring can be seen as a prompt for dreaming,
but then pure unconscious that's beyond the sensual
realm of pulverising you with everything external
          doesn't allow dreams, because it allows rest...
the subconscious makes more sense in terms of dreams
than what it currently prescribed,
             on the fully-waking hour of what people call
reverse-psychology (popularly), or who people can
influence you and treat you as a pawn...
   in the waking hour the theory of the subconscious
is that it's somehow there, and it's brimming with
theories ranging from the unitary stealth workings
of a superego, to advertisers competing for your
attention, as in: how can this person be manipulated?
that's the strain of thought working from consciousness
where you are said to have: no free will,
no critical approach toward the world with thought,
that you are naive and gullible...
  such people do exist, because they're not working
on the subconscious from the unconscious position,
hence they are most probably highly-developed dream-machines,
they probably even dream in colour and remember
dreams vividly... but take all the things i said
about the subconscious from a conscious pinpoint
and invert the starting point from an unconscious
pinpoint, and all that manipulating dynamic that
the subconscious is supposedly is fed fades
   to simply expose the subconscious as the medium
of dreams, whereby dreams appear from a sensory
hush of all external factors... a few days back i dreamed
i woke in a bed covered in cobwebs and spiders crawling
in them... the last thing i remember looking at?
my pet incy-wincy hanging on a silken web in
the corner of my room... for this to be true,
and for all that pompous subconscious theoretical *******
to go away, to actually work on the subconscious
having a dream reality rather than a reality of
being easily swayed by superego or advertisement
and willingly giving up your will to external factors
that go beyond mere senses... you have to acknowledge
at least 36 hours of the soviet sleep experiment, clock:
no nodding.m i've set the threshold,
the junkies did over 100 hours without sleep,
but they were army material, i'm... dunno.
              a break with an article on melanie martinez,
and then back into today's end...
    it's pouring cats & dogs outside, and will so
throughout tomorrow, one of the street lamps has
turned itself into solitary disco strobe...
   e.e.m. (epileptic eye movement)
           vs. r.e.m. (rapid eye movement) -
the difference? the latter invokes the theatrical curtain
of the eyelids... the former invokes your eyes
having rolled to the back of your head so you only
see the sclera...
but a real life problem too!
in these pseudo-capitalistic societies, companies
have started to do the Pontius Pilate tactic,
they are companies without employees,
what they want are subcontractors, people who
are self-employed, because actually employing
employees is bad business for them: you have to
have a pension fund... and what capitalist wasn't
old people getting money for doing nothing?
most construction companies are following this trend...
but the problem with that is that these companies
are employing useless managers, construction
site managers that should be on a site for at least 2
days a week... even 3... so they can get the knitty-gritty
of organisation done and the project runs smoothly...
but as i've already known for months,
say a roofing company from Gloucester is given
a London-based contract... it has employed a
project manager... who 1st of all doesn't have the right
credentials to be a manager... and this pleb travels
to London from the village of Gloucester
and is on a construction site for about half an hour,
doesn't make any notes,
and spends the rest of the time being a ******* tourist
in and around London, a day like this happens,
an authentic waterproofing problem...
   so you have these flats near the city airport,
and they're connected with walkways and have planters
too... you lay the concrete, then do the waterproofing:
primer, hotmelt, fleece, hotmelt, felt.
                  now the problem, why impose self-employment
and also employ parasitical managers who know
jack **** or are interested in selfies on tower bridge?
only because they can get a cheap train ticket back
to the village of Gloucester before the rush-hour commute?
the problem is simple, or hard, depends whether
there's an actual plan and someone is bothered..
four elements...
       1. drainage matt,
             2. pebbles,              3. filter layer
and 4. ~artificial turf... plastic-like, not asphalt,
     i grant it a status of artificial asphalt,
  or turf coloured copper...
the debate ranged about where the filter layer should go,
but there was no manager with the appropriate
method statement to give... the ******* crane arrives
at 8am, and he texts the day before that he might have
an answer by noon... or that some other manager should
be consulted to the method statement...
i suggested that first: the drainage matt, then the pebbles,
then the filter layer and then the artificial asphalt...
   the other suggestion was: drainage matt,
filter layer, pebbles and then the artificial asphalt
        given that pebbles will never be spread like
a plateau of concrete, meaning there will be pockets
beneath the artificial asphalt to soften the walk
and give more spring to the step...
                  and then i read a newspaper in england
and start to think: are these the only people on an actual
payroll? with safety in retirement schemes?
          i used to think of journalists as daring...
Watergate journalism that did something...
               then you turn on the 24 news channels
and state media is no different to free-enterprise media...
     as people my age say: television is really
a piece of 20th century antiquity... who gives a ****
that millions watched a man walk on a moon
on it... at least a billion people watched the cinnamon
spoon challenge from some ******* on the internet!
     or that guy who gave his cat l.s.d.,
or that guy who jumped off tower bridge and caught
pneumonia and had to be rescued...
still, the rain is ******* down, i've got my headphones
on, and that rebel street-lamp has turned into
a discoteque strobe's of needy rhythmic epileptics -
as every: i count most psychiatric terms in popular
use as undercover poetics, people who don't read
poetry, nonetheless apply psychiatric terms
   an unilateral transcript of denoting them as metaphor(s)
in everyday sprechen; and yes,
our informal vocabulary usually suffers for the fact
that we have chosen a fixed (courteous, hierarchical)
formal vocabulary, that erodes any chanced deviation
akin to a cat-stretching: e.g. (a) so and so died,
(b) oh, i'm sorry,        (c) and you're the one who
brought back the resentful Lazarus?
(d) as if you could have, prevented the inevitable;
a conversation between four strangers.

ya see dudes on factor we are in the grand final and

the first won eliminated were jess and matt leaving

the battle for the winner of xfactor going down

between louise and cyrus and here is a jingle

louise and cyrus in a battle of wits

who will take the xfactor prize

ya see cyrus really blew the crowd away

and so did louise, oh yeah hey hey

this is the last one for the year

i wonder who will actually win

goodbye jess and matt jess and matt jess and matt

goodbye jess and matt, t’s sad to see you 2 go

but it’s up to cyrus and it’s up to louise

who is the best one to take out the crown

get up get get get get up up up get down

who is the champion of xfactor tonight

and the music is hot and i think loiuse looks groovy

groovy like a fruit smoothie

party party party, right till the end

driving the bullies around the bend

WHO WILL WIN

cyrus or louise

catch ya later dudes, yo duuuude

People wonder, how can Christ, be all things to everyone?
Without the proper perspective, Truth can be missed.
So carefully consider some ideas presented here,
before these spiritual concepts are mistakenly dismissed.

To the BUILDER, Christ is the Sure Foundation.
To the ARCHITECT, He is the Chief Corner Stone.
To the GEOLOGIST, He is the Rock of Ages.
To the SCULPTOR, He is the Living Stone.

To the STUDENT, Christ is the Incarnate Truth.
To the PHILOSOPHER, He is the Wisdom of God.
To the BANKER, He is the Hidden Treasure.
To the PREACHER, He is the Word of God.

To the DOCTOR, Christ is the Great Physician.
To the SERVANT, He is the Good Master.
To the THEOLOGIAN, He is the Author of our Faith.
To the EDUCATOR, He is the Great Teacher.

To the JEWELER, Christ is the Pearl of Great Price.
To the ARTIST, He is the One Altogether Lovely.
To the HORTICULTURIST, He is the True Vine.
To the FLORIST, He is the Lily of the Valley.

To the STATESMAN, Christ is the Desire of all Nations.
To the CARPENTER, He is the Eternal Door.
To the PHILANTHROPIST, He is the Unspeakable Gift.
To the LAWYER, He is the Lawgiver, Advocate and Counselor.

To the BIOLOGIST, Christ is the Life.
To the ENGINEER, He is the New and Living Way.
To the TOILER, He is the Giver of Rest.
To the SINNER, He is the Lamb Who takes all sin away.

Our Christ is a multi-faceted personality,
Who has something for everyone who comes to Him.
Therefore, we should continue to rejoice in Who He is,
by offering heart-felt praise through songs and hymns.



Author notes
Loosely based on:
Col 1:15-18; 2 Tim 2:19; Eph 2:20; Isa 26:4; 1 Pet 2:4-12;
Matt 28:20; Cor 1:24; John 1:1; Heb 12:2; Jer 17:14; Matt 19:16-17;
John 1:3; Matt 16:13-17; John 3:1-2; Matt 13:45; John 15:1;
SoS 2:1; Hag 2:7; John 10:7; Cor 9:15; James 4:12; 1 John 2:1-2;
Isa 9:6-7; John 14:6; Heb 3:1-4:13; John 1:29

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.


This poem is not meant to serve as an all encompassing list of professions; for example, here are a few more viewpoints not mentioned:

To the BAKER, He is the Living Bread.
To the JUDGE, He is the Righteous Judge of all Men.
To the NEWSPAPER, He is the Good Tidings of Great Joy.
To the OCULIST, He is the Light of the Eyes.
To the SOLDIER, He is the fortress.
To the CHRISTIAN, He is the Son of the Living God, the Savior, the Redeemer and the Lord.

I put the Matt in matter
because I believe I do
but don't tread on me
or wipe off your shoes.

© Matthew Harlovic

Mark A. Williams
                            SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018

___________________­

Wow Mark,

Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later!

Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker.

All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota.

(RIP Jimi Carlsen)

Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons!

Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories.

I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend.

I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah  back together.

Jeff Gaines
July 28, 2018

Eve took in the sent of darkness mixed with the light breeze pooling from the open bedroom window. Her restless child laid beside her squirming occasionally letting out whimper of dissatisfaction.

"Just go to bed, just go to bed."  

She repeated to her baby as irritation bubbled to the surface of her reality ravishing all other emotions stirring inside. Sam began to crawl to the edge of the bed then tuning around to slide off feet first the way his mother had taught him. When his feet touched the floor Eve caught him by the hand gently pulling him back into the bed. Sam began to cry struggling to break free from his mothers loving embrace. While praying in her mind Sam would just give in and fall asleep she began to sing his favorite lullaby holding him close. The frustrated toddler was determined to stay awake despite his mothers praying. He kicked his legs, shook his head, resorted to biting his warden. When Eve felt her sons teeth imprint on he breast she let out a horrendous echo of pain. She slapped down on the toddlers thigh only hard enough to stun Sam into releasing his clenched teeth. Sam cried profusely while his mother nursed the impression left by Sams baby teeth. She felt terrible after the pain resided. She cuddled Sam running her fingers through his hair. Singing she told the toddler,

'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when sky's are gray, you'll never know dear how much I love you, so please don't take my sunshine away.'

She patted his back until silence was in the air. The corners of her mouth shifted into a smile at the spinning memory that began to manifest in her mind. Matt sat on his sisters bed watching Eve put on her make up. Blue eye shadow to match her shirt, black eyeliner her signature look. She fashioned every strand of hair into waves of curls. Eve watched Matt through the mirror. She loved how he looked at her with his pleading eyes in a trance completely lost at the sight of her. No one ever looked at her or made her feel the way he did.

"Why are you in here?", she asked.

Unsure how to reply he lied saying,

"Just waiting around to see if you wanted to smoke when you finished."

"I'm finished now, lets go."

Eve lead, Matt followed. They stepped outside, Eve lit the cigarette inhaling then passed it to Matt.

"When is Julie picking you up?" , he asked gently.

"Midnight, that's when the dance is over.", she answered with a smile.

"What, you don't like to dance?"

"Nope, just the after party."

Eve looked up at the stars amazed at the clear sky allowing every radiant star in sight to shine brilliantly.

Matt wore his sincerest look, swallowed, then spoke in his softest voice,

"Your beautiful."

Still gazing at the stars she heard him and her heart sank sending flutters through her body. For the first time she was unsure how to respond to him.

"Yeah they are.", she said pretending she misunderstood what he had said.

Tears surfaced in her eyes pulling her from the memory.

He still thinks i believe he was referring to the stars.

She laughed at her thought.Eve's next decision would impacted her for the rest of her life. There was absolutely no way she could have ever known what would follow an action of hers as thoughtless as breathing resulting in chaos. By sunrise two things would become a permanent truth in her existence. 1. She would forever blame herself for allowing Sam to stay awake that fate altering night. 2. She'd regret leaving the pacifying safety of that bed.

. she was 19, i was 21, and i guess i was the first boy who treated her decently, allowed her to slap me in the face and stood like a copper statue before her... she wouldn't have made it at university among all the English yuppies, being pregnant... turns out, she might have opted for the Juno (the movie) route... all i know is that she graduated with a masters in anthropology... she was up in Edinburgh, i was back in London, roofing with my father doing the Scottish Widows HQ and then some other project, trying to weave myself into a managerial position in some roofing company... but then? the psychosis spiral... oddly enough - no hammers, no hearing voices wielding a hammer running down the street naked... contained... walked into a church near King's Cross st., lay on beside a the side altar, pulled the cloth from the altar, and wrapped myself in it... then heard singing, had my iPod with me... turned it off... turned it on again, turned it off... the singing still echoed the church... got up, put the cloth back onto the altar and started running around the church aisles... then a great wind dispersed the singing... what kept my sanity? well... given that i was smoking marijuana and fasting? one word... sátān... the whole 40 days in the desert? cut short... in a concrete desert... i phoned my then ex-girlfriend to meet me at this spot outside the church - right across from a royal mail HQ - and i remember the words: can you bring me bread, and water? nothing... on my own then... no... that sort of experience is no cause for jubilation, there is no ******* euphoria: you're talking about ******* it - in my case? thankfully that's only metaphorical... and i'm not buying the psychiatric *******, the easy way out answer: ooh... but youz ver in a church... what?! what the **** are these people talking about? sober people are allowed to have these experiences? well, really?! so why so many of them are negating or doubting intellectuals?! negation is the new doubt... somehow i managed to fend off the atypical munchies routine while smoking marijuana while walking in public... never bothered me... i was a reggae ***** at the time... notably Israel Vibration, Stephen Marley, Damian & Culture... & ***** and the Maytals... cliche, i know... but **** and rap?! seriously? gangster whatever the hell that means... i've just read an article about cultural appropriation... so what has the Jamaican Rastafarian culture have to do with Old Testament prophets?! JAH... they're always singing about JAH... it's a ******* yak! yah! a german YA! cultural appropriation my ***! it's Jamie Oliver's **** sauce! ****'s sake! yeah, right, Bambi on Jamaica smoking a silly one doing the reinvention of king David's psalms... no cultural appropriation there... nope... none... nothing... nothing wrong with Alpha Blondy singing about Yerushalem... nope... no cultural appropriation.... nope... none... nothing! i mentioned these bands to my Jamaican **** seller... big on the Illuminati conspiracy theories, i liked to listen to him ramble... hardly a Charlie Temple paranoid... loved his ox tail broth, his grandma made it for him... and a pretty daughter, but no mother... eh? his Thai ****? i'd prefer the shorter span of a tobacco high... where? near my old high school, Canon Palmer R.C. - now a ******* academy! whoop! whoop! sound the klaxon! you don't experience what i've experienced and start a cult with *** ****** in mind... like **** if you think you do... you... lay low... you puncture the existentialist exodus from Cartesian doubt - namely outright negation - and you wait for the revitalization of doubt, namely the pop culture variant of belief... doubt is, oddly enough, a variant of belief... and belief? be a leaf... just remember you were once attached to a branch of a tree.

yeah...

        a catholic school isn't
exactly a Jesuit school...

but being asked questions
about abortion
and euthanasia

   aged 15 or 16?

in real life?
  you short-circuit, glitch,
become ronin -

    the personal life, details?
too messy...
   she tells you she's taking
contraceptives,
   she's ends up self-harming...
she says she was abducted
and held for ransom,
she's a russian citizen,
her ex-boyfriend is still
hanging around,
  a son of some Russian oligarch...
you've only dated for a
bunch of months that do not
even make it half a year...
you don't mind condoms,
because... hell...
you'd love to see her wearing
latex...

     you know, the usual bits & bobs...

voodoo...
    for some strange reason i woke
up, and the ring finger blister
on my left hand, made by burning
out a cigarette on it
started bleeding:
  close to the bone -
and look! you get a slot motion
of your body recovering!
  no disclaimer concerning
the pros to what sharp objects
women do, by cutting...

but you know...
      asking a 15 / 16 year old
about his opinion
  about either abortion
or euthanasia?
  bad ******* move...
           at this point i'm thinking:
thank ****...

what does it even mean,
when a woman says it,
she's not exactly point-break
on Cartesian logic...

'matt, i think i'm pregnant'
'well, you know what you should
do, get an abortion.'

mind you... i am a citizen of a country
where abortion is legal...
hell, it might have worked,
*** was good, she could
reciprocate that sentiment...

oh, but if there is a kid at the end
of the tunnel?
i **** sure hope he doesn't
contact me, like a kid from
a ***** donor clinic...
      there's something malicious
waiting for him for me
to add about his mamma -

   aligned?
oh you know... *****, Henny,
  Diana and the Egyptian...
   go Charlie go!

                  please please keep
your name... we need a Charles trinity!

so yeah... Roman Catholic school...
****! oh right, outer east end of London...
Paddy central...
               i wonder...
                  but i'll never know...
the Polish Catholics are leaving...
               good on 'em...
          (yadda yadda, yeah yeah, for them)...

i'll never know...
   am i angry?
               i listen to Byzantine and Templar
chants and drink to a well earned
excess...
               sometimes the odd Bulgarian
******* to hug...
    
oh right... that one last time?
i didn't forget my genitals...
   i did an uncourteous lax of etiquette...
****!
           now it makes sense!
i forgot to trim my ***** hair!
(mumbling out) ******* eureka.

daj, do wynagrodzenia: reszty.
daj: to niby: siebie;
a... dam... dam...
ale pierw: powiem:             to!
(ich) nicht werden
                  geben (ihr) das nacht!
first... i'll punch myself
hard enough to give myself
a plum-eye: ******* pacifists...
and then?
    then i'll strap a trouser belt
to protect my knuckles...
and then... then...
                    then: we'll "talk":
who might find a translator
ready...
   god...
i'm gagging for a
knuckle exchange...
        almost... itching!
like i might await
a shaving... from a Turkish
barber... in Essex...
of all Danish palaces;
and why would i want to allow
consort with these women?
considering the fact that
the russian ones believe in trans-national
grievance taxation:
of someone... who hasn't...
actually died...
              you know what?
*******...
suffer...
       watch me wipe my ***
with a satanic smile
ennobled
by a coulrophobia...
excesses of vogue
                      atypical models...
how is it... that...
coulrophobia doesn't translate
in reverse?
  and what's up
with the black privilege of
jass music, akin to white mozart...
as...  
  sure as ****, the drum would be
the first, and only thing,
prior to the people learning
the ******* clarinet!

oh drop me your ****** ***
holocaust dead bomb
on a polish ***...
     i triple, quadruple dare you!
you *******... ivory coast
   centipede!
               i'm *******...
as watts: wild-eyed...
       unstrap me from this
"unreality" of conversation...
then undo the internet banking...
and the rest of it...

             not adam watts!
    glitter & doom....
who?      tom waits...
oh **** me... blue valentine?
if that's not a **** with me
album... what is?
                 live circus?
        
do i look like a ******* ****-
(see the hyphen?
it's a prefix... the english are
lazy sometimes: couldn't,
i.e. could not,
remnants of shakespearean
english...

       i'll always cite macbeth...

  time, thou anticipat'st my dread
exploits: the flighty purpose never
is o'eertook, unless the deed go with it.
from this moment, the very firstlings
of my heart shall be
  the very firstlings of my heart.
   and even now, to crown my thoughts
with acts, be it thought and done.

it's hardly a racial slur, ergo...
why so ******* sensitive akin to a french
footballer or a ballerina?
   ****- (hyphen! hyphen!) ergo a prefix...
as already mention:
no, no...
   it's not: no iraqi ever called me a pa-ki
      (pákí)... yeah...
and you never called an afghanistani an
afghan, ever, no?
   pure camaraderie in that part of
the world... all the way... yeah yeah... yeah...
-stani (suffix) is sometimes missing
because... the english like to shorten words...
e.g. why is daniel: dan,
why is matthew: matt?
  why is muhammad: mo (farrah)?
                                    ******* pansies...
police your circumcised penises fiddling
english teenager girl, first,
come after my vocab. justifications: after;
savvy?

or a gypsy?
   by now...
     i'm looking like any
traveler...
and the world...
       forever resembled
a world,
  in the confines of
      a claustrophobia...

but... if there's a bigger concern for
a world...
  and a freedom...
i want a bare knuckle fight...
a black eye...
namely...
you bring  BOXING GLOVE...
and i'll bring...
     a LEATHER BELT...
wrapped around my knuckles,
and the wrist...
    like i might care to give
a second attempt to smile...

ah... the men... who care
about minding, if not in the least,
keeping women...
      bye bye, bye bye...
       and i've allowed myself
to know my grandfather...
as i did the slap in the face...
and...
the key question:
in the unfathomability of counting
the 32 / 4 ratio...
alas... one fist... one smile...

and countless... dentistry encounters...
because?
   because the rest?
the cultural artifacts of a today?
  lost to h'americana...
            as i might have wished...
for my prior genes
to make an autobiography
in **** germany...
  
   what?
  
      well... obviously: the oops.

no, for the crescendo...
you know...
           i'm getting this funny vibe...
gott ist tot... it's not really spectacular...
nietzsche really believed in eternity,
to the point where he pointed:
what does science offer, only old age...
what does religion provide? eternity...
oh nietzsche was big on eternity...
   gott ist tot is as unspectular as:
is it: how to do you pronounce x,
or is it: how do you pronunciate y?
debate:
              everyone says around here
the former... since no one wants to be a *****...
pro-nun-ci-ate (pro-nun-cíate)...
   might as well replenish the vocab. bank
and replace the word with:
how do you elocute z? / recite)....

gott ist tot / gott ist tod...
    "same ****, different cover"...
you know why i believe in god?
    not the christian reference points...
salvation blah blah, saviour and hide & seek blah blah...
n'ah... where would i derive all my vocab.
hunger if not from him?
   some men derive their vocab. from
women or gambling...
            i am not in the position of their
luxury... so god it is...

            primarily though?
               god is metaphysics...
             ergo? his judgement is not clouded
by metaphysical questioning...
it's impossible to receive a metaphysical
answer from a metaphysical question
when engaging with a metaphysical
ontological paraphrase of one's own search
for meaning in this mortal frame...

oh sure sure, my belief in god is as juvenille
as anyone else's belief in humanity's
clarity when it comes to jurisprudence
and its application...
    i've experience "jurisprudence" once...
drive-by phone theft...
me and three fwends...
   i catch the number plate...
i tell one of my fwends to note it down,
police station, report, culprit found,
a sit in at a barkingside police station
looking at mug images,
spot the ****** (it was dark when the mugging
took place, photographic memory, **** happens)...
a court session, australia is playing england
at the ashes (****, i missed it)...
in court the defence lawyer shows me
another picture of the culprit...
back then photogrpahs had dates
attached to them...
the photograph? over 4 years old...
i tell him: but this photograph is 4 years old!
how can i identify if this is the same
person: i, myself, will probably
don a beard in four years time!
      a simple slip-up...
        now that i have a beard:
it's so much more fun than growing your
hair long... i hated the nickname
chewbacca back in high school when i was
growing mine for a french braid...
i walk out of the court,
come to terms with the detective...
and i see the same hunger in him as i see in me...
will justice be served?
highly unlikely... since the victim
didn't recognize the *** in the mug-shots...
justice was probably not served...

   and this is how god plays into all of this,
hell or heaven, blah blah...
man created the figure of domina Iustitia
as blind... god created death to be blind...
justice was never supposed to be blind,
death was: the unfortunate deaths
of teenagers in car accidents,
among all the other freak accidents...

clouded with so many metaphysical questions
i don't appreciate man's ability to adhere
to jurisprudence without being
subjectively contaminated...
i have more belief in an "imaginary"
god than belief that strains me to belief
in man's sense of justice...
          the nuremberg trials are a rare exception...
but only when the culprits are
unabashed and fathomable by a collective
sense of pride... a blidness...
i believe in god, because i'd love to experience
the judgement of a post scriptum of
metaphysics...
  personally? i have been wronged...
heavily...
            i will not name names....
i know when and how i was wronged,
and by whom...
                2007... Canterbury...
      i won't name names: i'm not a rat...
man is too clouded with metaphysical questions
to begin with, god isn't,
he's a metaphysical ontology "bias"...
which is why, he is primarily a jurisprudent
answer...
   i'd love to experience divine jurisprudence,
hell or heaven are not of my concern...
and i don't imply divine jurisprudence
associated with the polytheistic take of
jurisprudence via a solipsistic mechanism
of a minor god and the person in question
without the hurt party...
in monotheism the god is solipsism personified...
these days: also the personna non grata...
so no... gott ist nicht tot...
            he's a personna non grata...
i just don't appreciate the human *******
of law, law governance...
   come on, in england you can receive
an a.s.b.o.s. for your cockerel being too loud
in the morning, your dog barking...
           would you trust man with
jurisprudence?
  a woman was cleared of the ******
of her husband
       when she hammered his head into a pancake:
over an abusive relationship...
police, weren't, "there"?!
sure sure... the hammer will do...
i believe in god without a sense of reward...
i just don't think man is capable of
passing justifiable laws...
no man could ever pass the eternal laws,
gravity... 100°C for the boiling of water...
i need a being  who has groundwork
in eternal laws, in unshakeable laws...
the ten commandments aren't:
you shall not...
   more... maybe, you shouldn't...
they are the most pristine jurisprudent
laws available... the: maybe you shouldn't,
eh, chappy?

       i just don't like playing the thesaurus game
on the more tight-knit game
of "passing" the wink-wink of Solomon's
judgement...
please, **** me please,
i'll eat 20 raw herrings in a cream sauce,
slurp 30 oysters,
eat 40 strawberries on a hangpverl
eat out about 50 harem virgins
like a castrato if you ask me, nicely,
**** camel cockey:
lucly i landed on a black gold slurp
with plenty of bangladeshi slaves:
******* of riyadh...
     what did muhammed tell you?
you camel jockeys / sand *******
have clearly forgotten...
******* arabs: short attention span...
you need to remind
the retards...
the dajjal would come from the east...
a palace of gardens...
well obviously the prophet wasn't
thinking about genghis khan...
            
  hmm barbarians...
vikings, arabs: yet so inclined to like poetics...
funny, that...
the civilized peoples banished
the poets...
            the ruling class and their cushioned
people: sacrosanct sycophants...
wankers, basically.

    the hajr? muhammad spoke of the dajjal
coming from the east,
and the east being a city of gardens...
where isn't riyadh and where is mecca?
isn't riyadh east of mecca?
was the dajjal to come from the outside
of islam, or from wtihin?
      last time i checked...
sh'ite islam isn't friendly to sunni islam...
if islam was the one true religion...
would have a shcism have occurred?
i don't think so...
   a persian would never bow before
an arab... that much os true...

oh i believe in god...
given how man practices jurisprudence...
is it some sort of, a, thesaurus game
i wasn't told about?
to me the human quest for jusctice is
a thesaurus game...
man is incapable to pass but one,
eternal, law...
he's great at nuanced laws...
laws allocated to sports...
i mean, **** me, cricket?
the best vocab. you'll ever pick up...

even god isn't as pertinent
in making the sort of music associated
with the limited alpha-to-beta
of A, B, C, D, E, F, and G...
wow! seven... seven?!
how many heads does the beast
of revelation have? oh... 7!

i'll stop tolerating islam, and start respecting it,
when it, acknowledges its presence
as a character study in the book of revelations...
then i'll just move on,
having made my point...

until that time comes...
    it's 600 years shy of becoming what
degenerate christianity has become,
oh and it's ripe...
it's gagging to implode!
600 years and wait for it to become
the next secular vasal conglomorate...

the warning muhammad gave
about "the best from the east"
was in point of question:
   a reference ti gneghis khan...
more like ibn saud:
  thst fat diabetic one eyed ogre...
and the legacy of decadence he left
behind...

saudi men with slavuc girlfriends,
buying up pink cushions and *******
chihuahuas...
**** after ****...
  you know the three slavic proverbs?
1. better a sparrow in your
hand, than a dove on your rooftop?
explanation?
better the small joys at-hand,
than impossible possibilities out of reach....
2. a drunk can spot east,
past mecca, whenever honing
the safety of his own bed... even at night...
not much of a proverb...
3. i don't care to rememeber...

once toleration comes into play,
i will, respect... just a waiting game...
i'm pretty sure no iranian will
bow down to a sunni camel jockey...
i like proud *******,
it implies: there are absolutes,
un-moveable goal posts...

                      if you are ever to bind yourself
in supporting a "side" outside a sports' dynamic,
always the outsider...
always the outsider... in this case?
the ****'ite islam brigade...
       the persians...
the sunnis can shove it...
   *****, bones, whatever....

                   ****'ite islam i can
fathom, even respect,
sunni islam i just tolerate...
  as much as iran takes claims for the
big satan in ref. to h'america...
well... if h'america supports the infantile
saudi arabia, who's to blame them?

you know that polonaise joke about
about the pacifism of jews in
2nd world world war poland?
the joke ran along the words:
weren't the jews shooting the nazis
using crooked elbows (rifles)?
they always seemed to miss them,
taunted into walking into gas chambers,
the ******* hobbits...

          what? some bolshevik Brooklynian
jewish rada is to spare me
                 the pay-up diffrential
telling me, i was wrong?

  as i said before: the nazis lamented
when the warsaw uprising happened...
no, st. paul's doesn't stand proud
because, because...
   even with the blitz...
                 the luftwaffe were told:
you drop a bomb on st. paul's: firing squad...
and when notre-dame de paris -
last time i checked...
   the nazis didn't luftwaffe the **** out
of paris... did they?!

                  the nazis weren't mongols;
no people so well versed in chanel in terms
of their military being so well
   suited & booted could ever make such a
                              architectural sacrilege...

what?! people under the silicon curtain
are gagging, begging even: for nazis!
can i be the first?!
i just want to please the hungry!
if not punk then moving swiftly into ska...
am i the first?
   siliziumvorhang...
well, **** me... from under the eisenvorhang...
what's with these neo-communist pseudos?

and the hebrew god?
a jealous god... so a god with the knowledge
of the existence of other gods...
why wouldn't a jealous god have
no knowledge of other ("imagianry") gods?
to be jealous of only one's own existence?!

3 / 1: that's the ratio....
that's the only ratio... 3 times i experienced
love at first sight:

when i fell in love at first sight...
malina, samantha, janina,
priya....

equal measure: isabella of grenoble...

in reverse:
magda, promis, ilona, kot (i forget her name,
7 years old, first kiss, you can be forgiven
to forget, she had two twin sisters
and she was the senior,
her fasther drove a distribution truck,
milk, i think)...

****, i actually mismanaged
that ratio...

i believe in "a" god...
since i find too much of human jurisprudence
to be riddle with the thesaurus...
i don't think man can pass
law, he can "suppose so"...
but he will never pass the sort of law,
made forbidden,
or absolutely allowed....
i don't believe in a god akin
to the sort of a pontous pilate god
where i'll always find myself
outside of punk evolving into ska...

         mind you...
i'd hate to be trapped within
the confines of an atheistic exclusion zone
of intellect,
      to be trapped in nothing is one
thing, but to be trapped inside
the confines of an atheist's "nothing"
is quiet another....
i don't like being a hamster inside
a cognitive wheel of another...
   god is the jurisprudence spirit,
man the metaphysical spirit...
and i would very much like to stand
in the light of divine law being passed
to finally feel my shadow...

kult: brooklyńska rada żydów...
  not familiar?
  i forgot punk a long time ago...
esp. when californians came up with their
version, ergo? ska...

i'm currently taping a film
about the silesian vampire...
how strange, that the prussians came
back into the ***** of the polonaise...

growing a beard is so much fun!
fiddle after fiddle: and no violin!
atheists bore me
as much as the theistic hags
who's only ambition are
the thrill associated with Sunday
h'america and cinema...
               i can imagine only one
heaven...
where i am blind and given
               a large library of music.