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

like a bird that flew..

The rush of the day is dieing down...slinking to the floor.

I am indifferent

Drink the morning bullet..melt it into iron for the afternoon. yea that iron fist. "The Wall" [Pink Floyd] drips from my speakers.

I am numb.

but compelled to write..this album is like an up-scale murder gone awry: all the great tracks destined for success but that feeling..IMPENDING DOOM!

"If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes..You'll just have to claw your way through this disguise."

Bravo my pink friends..you are such a muddled mess of Meddle. clever ehhh? aha! at last..the day must become night..and we all know music seeps out in the darkness [of our minds]

Yes..well. I welcome these unassuming notes of pleasure. Come caress my heart and decompress my mind. You only think you're lonely..oh no! Not with the pink boys here..

Backward

[Jibberish for backward thinkers in the backward clouds]

Drops of rain, racing up towards the sky, while flower petals fold back in. This is how I picture such a backward day..

Cars speeding in reverse, while the morning bird lulls people back to their nests. A rainbow gently fading in the sky..as lovers crawl back into bed. one by one...their dreams reeling silently in reverse.

Stars burst into last nights darkness..and the thieves tiptoe empty handed in retreat from each quiet house.

Smoke drains up through my throat and back into the little green plant which was lit..breathing fresh air into my soul. Playing lyrics to the fuddled music..they choke and trip with each distorted word- as we scream in unison..flying and falling into yesterday once more.

I could do this more often..backwards day of course.

Addicting/Contradicting

These days I find myself immersed in piles of books...even in my dreams Chuck Klosterman can't stay away. I suppose there is a reason for this excessive reading I've taken up, but I have yet to discover this reason. The strange thing is..I don't go to the [sacred] library nearly as much for normal..the books..they call me. Flocking towards me by the shelf-full. Really. Hunter S. Thompson-the great doctor of word- consumes my brain as the hours pass. I guess it could be worse..reading does not neccesarily qualify as an addiction I assume. Nothing to be ashamed of..just a little page turning hunger..to devour every piece of literature in sight!

Yea...a sober addiction. At least it sounds intimidating..but don't worry, I won't bite.

Maybe chew a little just to satisfy, you know? But not too bad. I'll get my feeding from the doctor. Although its still not 'better than sex' as the caption implys. Just enthralling is all..

the old 'In and Out'

Remember the precise moment of clarity reached in these nights..remain smitten. Now is not the time for doubts etc. etc. Lucky..ahh yes. Quite fitting. The luckiness..the sheer iridescence of truth..makes like life is so round. Smooth against the edges. Yea..

Not like those harsh, hard songs. I'd rather sing than fly into a tree..sleeping in a field of daffodils.

[later]
'I don't know'. I find this to be the answer to so many questions. What if..nobody knows and we're all just trying to answer empty questions. Obsolete..pitch white. Seems about right. (that was not supposed to rhyme) Its not so bad you know? The uncertainty..but just sometime it may be nice. To be certain..its a tough game to roll around in. Yes..mhmm that's for certain. The certain ending..put the safebelt on cause questions only challenge the uncertainty of fate.

A Gnome

And then I hear the waves of angst and confusion roll in, like a herd of gnomes, grasping at life with their crooked paws. Poor Grumble..a lost soul. It can get lonely with these feelings. Quite lonely in fact. And at this point in the emotional process I am dazed. Its too late to do the right thing...and created now is a steaming pile of puss.

Angry little Grumble..I would be irrational too

You stumble through the same problems, day after day, in your frenzied state of existence. This is when I rationalize..contemplate. All the nonsense. Don't worry dear Grumble..someday you'll get it right.

Yea..everything is going to look up for you mister gnome.