Monday, October 10, 2011

Cruel Monster

I am currently in a deep dark soul sucking bout of depression. The kind that makes you question everything about yourself, your life, and the people in it. Everytime this happens it feels like it will never end and everything I feel is not only true but more true than anything I feel when I'm not depressed. This is more than just crappyfeelings this comes with its own physical symptoms. I have a tightness in my chest and a shortness of breath, my head is foggy, and my nerves are constantly on edge. I want this feeling to go away more than anything. I hate it, it robs me of being myself. I feel like a morose zombie walking around nodding at others not wanting to partake in any social activity. Hating people for no reason a cloud of negativity gathers around me. I can honestly say that the majority of my 28 years on earth have been spent this way. Happiness is to me what depression is to others-fleeting, temporary and not indicative of who they are. I must beat this monster for it has already taken more from me than it ever should've.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Death Throes

We are all dying lets fuck

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


Your lipstick still stains red the cheek
Near where your lips were mine to meet
But deep beneath your blushing shade
Lie my own layers of rougeish shame
One that delicate lips could 'err detect
For it was built by pride and negligence
But your Judas kiss betrayed this feeling
Leaving me lost and searching for meaning
Thinking that I may yet be able to let it go
If only for a second this moment to grow
Then with parted lips you again brush against mine
And I find no reason to conceptualize
When I can feel the living rhythm within our rhyme

Thursday, June 23, 2011

This Time Is Ours

Entry 2: Written in 1st person

As some peoples lives painfully linger on, mine will come to an abrupt halt in less than three hours. I am anxious to see what lies beyond these finite walls and this glass box we refer to as life. Am I scared? Of course, but who wouldn't be? Sometimes I wonder how I will leave this world. Will I leave engulfed in flames? Will I trip and hit my head? Will I drift off in my sleep? Maybe I will die a hero, maybe I will die a villain, only time can answer. These last few hours I spend alone, thanking God for every moment He has let me experience life; every breathe I take is a gift from above.
I hope people remember my name and I live on past death. I believe that everyone aspires to be remembered. To be remembered after death is to live forever.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Within it all

I'm on the outside just like everyone else. Maybe I'm not
so naive, I believe that all articles that radiate with
resplendence are not truly golden. Then again
most do, they are just too ignorant and caught up in the
beauty to realize how sordid things are.

I wish to open eyes and let look around to see. To
honestly see what lies slam bang in front of them.
Living the way we live in this place we proudly call
our home. How can one be so proud when things that
happen here occur so often. So there may be starving
children in other countries, we all have our poverty.
Yet they don't seem to walk around as if their
waste doesn't offend.

This place I call home doesn't make me as proud as I
once thought it did. I always want to complain that we
are all so pessimistic, but am I not being pessimistic
complaining about how no one sees what I see
Because they are mostly trying to be optimistic about
where they hang their hat. Yet in my defense, no one
is being optimistic at all. They merely don't know that
Beauty is only skin deep. And quite frankly they don't
concern themselves with knowing.

I just wish to open eyes and let look around to see. Maybe
just see through the eyes of me for one day, and
see how far their "optimistic" view of home is when they
leave my eyes and head back to their own,

grey like lonely

I'm so alone in my thoughts... I'm consumed by rapidly compounding worries, wishes, regrets, and hopes that are overshadowed by the enormous boulder of negativity that I carry always.
The lonliness isn't what bothers me, it's the realization that I've created this tunnel of pessimism and made it impervious to outside influences. Go ahead, try to convince me that my life isn't a complete waste; a waste of potential greatness. I know that I could change it all, but my mind is telling me that the amount of effort required wouldn't be worth the kickback, and I've got to give it to my mind on this one... because the last time I met a genuinely happy person... well shit, that's never happened.
I could quit the job I hate, where the people I work with win the prize for dumbest mammals ever (alive or dead, because really, who stuck in an underpaid mindless corporate shitty career is even alive?) But i'd likely be walking into another vortex of equally idiodic losers who have nothing better to do than to make small talk and shuffle papers while pretending their lives serve some purpose. By the way, no, I don't want to see a fucking picture of your kids or grandkids. They're not special. Nor do I care what you had for dinner last night or how your drive into the office was. I want to sit at my desk and wallow in self-hate smeared with self-pitty and watch the clock tick away the moments of my life, because when 430 comes I'll be halfway to tanked in my mind.
The only time my grey tunnel isn't so dismal is when it's got some hydration, a few cold beers and some menial conversation with the people I actually choose to be around. I guess that's the payoff, right? I suffer through a 40 hour work week in order to enjoy a couple hours a week. Yeah that sounds like a fair trade...
Is it so unreasonable to consider being unemployed for the rest of my life? 'Cause I think I could give up my worldly possessions for some more free time and a sliver of my sanity recovered. I've always wanted to see if I could survive as a nomad. Beach to beach just livin' carefree. Is this completely unrealistic? People to it, right? Are they any less content or happy than I am? Because if they're in the same state, they've got the idea. Screw working, no matter how far it gets you, you still won't be happy or satisfied. You'll work your way to death...

Monday, June 6, 2011

This Time Is Ours

What if the concept of tomorrow didn't exist?

Waking up to a sunrise knowing it will be the last you will feel and ending the day cherishing the last sunset you will experience, or at least that's what your mind is deceiving you to believe. You remember the happenings of the day prior because the concept of yesterday still exists, but when you start a new day you can't even comprehend, never mind prepare for, tomorrow. Some may call this a curse, some may say, "If we can't prepare for the future than how can we live in the present?",but I say, "If we can't live for today, we don't deserve a tomorrow.".

To Be Continued...

SS Squared- Teaser

In he strode, confident as the day was long. No thats all wrong what the hell does that even mean. How should I say this where could I even begin. How does one start when the end is still being written and the beginning is as much legend, half lies and opinionated truth as a Shakespearean tragedy rolled into an Aesopean Fable. I guess if I had to start somewhere I would have to start with the one place that wouldn't change no matter how often the characters that visited it might. I would have to start with the bar. Things always started and ended at the bar. They always have and they always will. Relationships, friendships, affairs, and gossip all shared their social galaxial center on those creaky unstable red stools.(At least for this group of individuals the bar provided this maybe for others it was the gym, or the University, or the studio or one of a thousand other places where people of like minds gather to socialize, laugh, blow off steam and fuck. No other place provided such a fertile(no pun intended) place to fuck. Certainly not the University and the gym only catered to a certain type of person and its not like protein shakes and energy bars had the same type of social liberation that a cold glass of beer and loud music did. If someone was down on their luck or having a bad day maybe with a few beers and one liners they could fuck their pain away if only for the night. The gym and certainly not the University could make that same promise.) Ah those creaky red stools many a story was interrupted by the inadvertent tumbling of an afternoon drunk onto the slick beer soaked floor. It was expected like hearing Semi Sonic's "Closing Time" after the bartender called out for the last call. It was a frame of reference, the loud crash echoing through the fog of cigarette smoke signaling that others besides yourself were also out there doing whatever it was that others did, reminding you of where you were and that you were not alone with your whiskey and misery. It happened so often that little shame was ever evidenced by the participants in this afternoon ritual. Simply wipe yourself off, take a sip, gingerly get back on the stool and continue with the story. The stories, oh my were there stories, they're what kept me coming back. I could get a cheaper beer elsewhere and the food wasn't the best but the company I kept and the stories that were told is what kept me around. Like the one Cynthia always told when she had one too many bourbon and sodas. Cynthia was not an inner member of my group but one of those social acquittance's its always nice to run into when she or you were a few drinks into a nice deep boozing session. It was better when both of you were imbibing because she had a grating high pitched nasally way of speaking that reminded me of someone that had a sinus cold and then swallowed too much helium. This fact was simply dismissed and in fact added to the whole spectacle of her ridiculous stories as long as I was on my 6th Jameson and ginger. I've heard Cynthia's story a hundred times, this should tell you something about both of our drinking habits, so I could basically tell you it myself adding my own little twists and turns as it is. In fact I often do just that when I'm drinking with people that don't know her and we are exchanging the typical "Well, one time a friend of mine..." Despite this fact no one can tell the story better than her so I'll let her tell it.

At first no one believes me at least thats what their faces tell me. You know that look you involuntarily give someone when you smell bullshit the half smiling, half wincing patient grin that says I don't believe a word of this but continue anyways. I know I give that look every time my Uncle Ronnie opens his mouth to tell us about one of his Rambo inspired Vietnam adventures. Honestly I don't give a fuck whether you believe me or not even if you don't you'll still get a laugh out of it. It all happened the summer of my 23rd birthday...

Now was all we had

I think of you on the brightest of days
And a smile creeps across my face
Remembering how the sun used to play
With the wild strands of your hair as we lay
Awake dreaming in a moment we both knew would end
Far too soon for either of us to comprehend
We enjoyed each moment for what it was
Possibility wasn't in the future neither was
Anticipation all was immediate, all was now
For now was all we would ever have
And had we did, so each moment was preciously wrapped in
An all consuming appreciation for the present BE
BE was all that we knew and it was better
Than I thought it could BE

Monday, May 23, 2011


Taking life in passively in thirty second bites
Leaves me hungry for more, more, more...
So I flip the remote with a glazed over stare
and what do I see but myself standing there
Mirrored reflection of my distorted perception
All these screens and windows are electronic deception
All i can do is look out and take in
Whens the last time I looked in and went out
Just then the screen blinks but I don't
Fixed stare over the glare of the blue light
Comes the buzzing of a thousand angry texts
Like real life insects they buzz and swarm
Whens the last time you saw real life insects buzz and swarm
Locked in your cage of constant communication
You've become an lonely island of isolation
Statuses and channels change but you don't. complacent


I'm recalling those crazy butterflies I used to get in high school when my assigned seat was next to the boy I thought the world revolved around. It's been since then that I've felt this way... until I met the man my world does revolve around Now, it's more intense, with a deep pining and a tingly amazing sensation between my legs. I can feel myself growing moist with desire. When his hand touches my thigh... that's when it starts. And then his warm hand brushes the hair away from my neck and I feel a rush of anticipation because I know what comes next... that's my weakness, kisses on my neck and the gentle way he sucks and nibbles my ear lobes. I can hardly keep myself from stripping myself and then him and ferociously making love to him... but the foreplay feels so good I make myself enjoy each and every kiss, every touch, the boner he has that is rubbing up against my stomach. I can't help but touch it through his jeans... and then I can't stand not feeling it in my hand and I go for his belt. I can do this with my eyes closed and one hand in one quick motion, belt, button, zipper... cock!!! He slides his hand up my shirt and squeezes my chest, taking my left tit out of my bra, pinching my hard nipple. His mouth moves down and begins to nibble and suck. I almost can't handle the urges I'm feeling. His other hand goes for my belt... buckle, button, zipper... fingers. He knows exactly where to go with his fingers... yet he teases me relentlessly until his hand is soaked from my dripping cunt. I pull his wet fingers to my mouth and suck each one. I love the way I taste. I stroke his cock, holding it firm. I need it in my mouth... I pull his jeans down and tease the tip of his dick with my tongue and lips slowly circling lower and lower around his shaft. With his balls in one hand and my other hand gripping the base of his dick I slip it into my mouth and slowly all the way to the back of my throat letting my spit pool on my hand I start to stroke him and move his cock in and out of my mouth in one motion. Each time he thrusts in a little harder always hitting my throat. With his hand on the back of my head he starts to really fuck my mouth and my eyes tear up, I love this. He pulls my head away by my hair to keep himself from coming.
He pulls me on top of him and tears my shirt off, then my bra. He grabs both breasts in his hands. Squeezing and sucking. I play with his cock until he throws me on my back and pulls my jeans all the way off. He kisses my mouth my neck my chest down my stomach and across my thigh. Tickling my clit with his tongue, I squirm, all I can think about is his huge cock inside me. I want it now. He burries his tongue inside me. Back to my clit I feel him slide fingers inside and go right for the spot, I'm shaking... creaming all over. I pull him up on top of me kiss him and taste myself on his lips and tongue while I wrap my legs around his waiste and pull him close. I feel the tip of his dick touching my clit. He grabs his cock and slaps my clit with the tip. I am dying to feel him inside me, pulling him closer and wrapping my legs tighter so he has no choice but to give it to me. Slowly I feel the tip of his dick move down towards my cunt and then with the most powerful thrust I feel his huge dick all the way inside of me and I immediately orgasm. I feel him moving in and out even faster.
He slows down a little and brushes my hair out of my face. Looking into my eyes, he smiles and kisses me on the lips, 3 little pecks, the way he does all the time, and I kiss him back, letting my lips linger on his. I feel a wave of heat come over me and my heart feels like it could burst. This is the first time sex and emotions have ever happened simultaneously for me. It's a good feeling, almost as good as his huge cock pounding me.

Friday, February 18, 2011

(un)finished sentence

I want it. I'm ready for it. I'm ready to wholly and unconditionally take the leap from the cliff of love. So leap little lover and don't look back. Embrace it violently shake it like a dog toying with a rabbit and don't you dare let go. Let it control you and overtake you. Love love like a drug after all isn't it the ultimate drug. A cocktail of anticipation, dreams, and expectations that relieves tension and provides peaceful rest. No more searching and wasted energy spent finding it. Once you find it mine the shit out of it till its spent and hurts for more. Find the endless bottom and drown in its depths but first, first you must leap. So leap little lover leap and don't look back.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Monday, January 17, 2011


So here I am, stuck drowning
In this forlorn spinning sphere.
What a mess has been made
Of this once crystaline dream.
It's been shattered, then
Carelessly patched together,
To leave a jagged, unnatractive
Ball to be travelled and explored.
But instead it's been abused and exploited.
I'm forced to adapt
To a world- I'm entrapped
In a society of inbred,
Mangled excuses for beings.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Knot what you think

I opened the door, blindsided by a sight I couldn't have imagined... I saw myself hanging lifeless, dangling like an air freshener from a rearview mirror. A chair lying on it's side, a neatly folded note displayed prominently, both beneath my paled swaying body. As I stare from the doorway, barely able to stand-my knees on the verge of buckling with every blink of my eyes, I think to myself, "how could it have come to this? Could it really have been so bad?" I'm not breathing... suddenly I violently gasp for air and both hands fly to my chest as if to assist with the breaths. All the while I gawk at my life hanging before me, incapable of moving. I look away and my eyes land on the perfectly creased note... I can't read it. I don't want to know how awful it was, knowing what brought me to this place of desperation could do no good. I instinctively scan the room, eyes darting every direction-never landing on the same spot twice, until... I see it... a large knife on the counter. Cold sweat, shaking hands, numb fingers and toes, I manage to grab the knife. The room is now spinning like the teacup ride at Disney. Dizzy nausea knocks me between the eyes and rolls down to my gut. I move mechanically towards myself hanging from the rafter. After picking up the chair and slowly finding my way to a standing position on the chair-I grab the rope that choked the life out of me and begin to saw at it with the knife in my hand. Not even realizing what I was doing, I watched the strength of the rope deteriorate and think to myself that was exactly what happened to my life. It was sawed at, gnawed, gnarled, and weakened to the point where it could bear no more weight. My arm saws without stopping... and I am awakened from my daze by the thump of my cold, stiff corpse. The thump seemed to echo for minutes... realizing how heavy the weight of the world felt day in and day out-I began to tie a new knot to match the one in my stomach, and looped it around my neck. While the breath escaped my lungs and none returned, the pain I was feeling right then and there was a comfort I could not have expressed.