may 12

lucid dreams?

i talked to this guy about lucid dreams a few hours before sleeping yesterday.  i got stoned, went to

sleep and start lucid dreaming like fucking crazy. then the dream turned on me.

i felt like tom cruise in vanilla sky. except on a farm with stripper shoes. it was 

strange. i asked this old woman for money, and she told me i had to work for it like all the other girls. i looked around and said "fuck all of you, i'm leaving!" but then everything just disappeared into white and i woke up.

even in my lucid dreams i can't gain control, i'm still an idiot with a weird and uncreative imagination. i hope my brain forgets about the whole thing tonight.

may 7th

mush mush mush

send me the mushy. i'll gladly accept. all you have to do is show up 

without startling me..

quick!

hurry! 

before i have to pee. i don't know

if this feeling will last

try not to hurt me

may 7th

everyone is talking about cinco de mayo and i don't have any input. 

are we supposed to get drunk and party for the sake of mexican tradition?

i don't think so. actually i think it is kind of insulting, and i'm not even mexican. if i were i would find it extremely insulting. i'm getting distracted by things now, the light in the kitchen seemed so much brighter yesterday. is that even possible? am i losing it?? i did shrooms yesterday. i forgot about cinco de mayo altogether,right  after all the drunk kids left keith's apartment. i thought about things i usually think about when i'm fucked up. (shhh nitrus/glue)  there was a will ferrel movie playing in the background all night. angela kept saying everything i said was stupid. so i just didn't say anything. i lied to everyone at work a few minutes ago, because i said i would see them tomorrow and goodnight and don't worry about it even though i had a shitty night. it seemed like the rights things to say. i felt like screaming underwater like jennifer connelly in Requiem for a Dream. i wish i could come up with a different comparison that wasn't in a movie..movies are all about movies and they aren't real. i think i have a hard time telling what is real sometimes.but i think i might have heard that in a  movie too…it's hard to tell. 

engagement date:

i'm getting naked. i take off my bra strategically, then grab the sides of my pink underwear. 

he reaches for them

i push his hands away, "No. NO! You can NOT touch me there!"

his hands slide back. a smirk slides on his greasy fucked face. "Oh. Oh. You are so conservative.."

i step back. reach out a 45 automatic. bash him in the head several times..blood is squirting everywhere. he is on his knees begging for life.  his face begs for mercy, and right before i pull the trigger he said, "Please! For the love of GOD..i'm to be married next week!!" BOOM

silence

(what actually happened)

i stepped back.."You're right. I am conservative, with strangers."

he shifted and looked stupid, useless. 

i sat in his lap for two minutes and got 100 bucks. 

he still gets married next week. 

i go home, put my money in the bank, and sit here writing about things i will never do.

elmer

elmer,


 Air time. After a long night’s work..you are a comrade. you wise old chap..it’s been too long I hum. we forgot anything else was here. but don’t worry I’m not contemplating pregnancy.


Our time together is cherished..though my nerves disagree.(they solemnly comply).I fancy a white rabbit. afterall elmer, the arts approved.

he sings the blues

he sings the blues, guitar in right hand, bellows in overtime without hesitation.

his lips lick slowly, concentrating



holy in my eyes.(( but he never believed in religion. and neither do i..)or so

he took my hand and emptied its       contents

until they turned blue like his soft words.

my current state: estranged

have been listening to [early] ben folds and the strokes alot lately..my musical status is shifting from 90's punk/indie riffs [like dinosaur jr. and pavement and a whole lot of nirvana] to a more modern melodramatic era. my musical phases of course reflect on my emotional and mental health/wellbeing. which are debatable right now..shifting in and out of one to the other..very flaky like. not too different from the angsty ben gibbard lyrics that i grew up to know and love so well..ahh

and as i shoved
 myself out of bed today i recieved a nice little package in the mail ( not the books ive been waiting for) but a cellular phone..one of my old ones. at one point a few years back i felt the need to lock EVERYTHING on this phone, and now cannot access the fucking thing.

i retreat for now...a sign that my Pazazz! is fading, maybe at the same safe speed the hollywood letters crumble.

i find comfort in..street signs? empty classrooms? i don't know anymore. "well that is that and this is this..you get away from me" -modest mouse

Your shoe

I found your left shoe yesterday. Looking at it made me angry [that you had forgotten it] so I threw it away. Now I wish I hadn't done that. Because I think it could have done better off on its own ...maybe someone that could love your shoe would have been home. But its too late.. your shoe is in an ally with a vengence for me.

chameau

My cigarette is turning on me. Once a dear, dear friend, my cigarette is now strange. He just stares at me with contempt. But I laugh and continue to feverishly suck the life from him..I am nervous.
because
he has an army! of followers! and I well..
am a
lone
being.


Whoever said camels were friendly was very wrong

a hole in/around your arm

sometimes I'd like to....
dig a hole, deep and brazen into your vast arm
so inviting and you twitch
but I must refrain from this
you are asleep and I fear this would wake you

(blank)

I'd like to collect what normalcy is left in my life and bottle it into a glass jar. Then send my normal jar off to a large, white factory- preferably somewhere cold. Upon delivery of my jar, I would return to my daily duties and proceed with life. A few months would pass and I would briefly think of my jar. I would hope that my jar was lost or confused with another jar during translation, so that when I went to pick it up for future happiness, I would have that other person's jar. Not to ever open their jar, unless maybe it broke in the midst of dirty, meaningless sex. That would be appropriate I suppose..I would have no choice but to cling to this person's normalcy..I mean this is all hypothetical. But I assume that person's idea of normal is a hell of a lot better off than mine. At least I truly hope so.

I apologize to whoever got my jar. It was probably mislabled too

paranoid android

scratch scratch..nerves want out.
snatch up the covers, they won't play nice tonight.

i try to feed them and they somehow slip away..time for a new batch.
baked away..hmmm sticky remedy.

Drip drop..they all fall out [nervous little puddle] Sobbing in their defeat.
Fetch the syrup..I'm almost through..then I'll sleep.

Climbing up the hollow rooms. until it all fades away