LONG HORN FIRE HELL ENERTIAL SHORT LIFE CRAMPED STYLE DAMPENERS
Current mood: rejuvenated
Category: Automotive

Yea. So….. I was in my baño standing in front of the sink a shavin and looked over and vidied a water bug upon the floor. It scanned and realized me… it scattered- every way possible. I picked it up and tru it into the tub. I festered it. Let it know my intentions. I hover over you. I am inside of you. I continue on with my cycle of hygiene upkeep- yea… I'm shavin. All the while surveying my little guy's plan of action. And then it happened. Humanity….. the water bug goes behind the drawn open shower curtain and posts up very still like a little boy in an darkened ally whistling to somehow fend off the unknown. It is still and not moving. Amazing. Great. The bug has little to no sense- yet has somehow managed to have a wall at least half as big as mine. Little note! I love to hide right out in the wide open spaces just like that all the time. I make a whole lot of more sound than the water bug though…. Tiz' part of my smoke screen. Throws the humans off efficiently and most affectionately well. Someday I will rest easy- As of now I rest hard. Have an affectionate piece of reality pie. Cantankerous is a disposition not a to do list. I am knuckle sandwich. This is all a true story based on a book never written. I. I am. I am the war torn battle shield of man. I am a rigid unbreakable ice storm of frailty. A ridiculous phantasm of infamies' grand prism of life. Nefarious dispensations of lifelessness. To watch the animal die is going to be a beautiful sight. I am sliding down the razor blade of life and someday I'm going to split smooth in half. Light my fire, die my death, sharpen my teeth, sit upon my lily pad, grow through my likeness, breath through the mouth of my soul, eat of my shit, love through my hate, hate through my truth, tell in my eyes, live on my toung, bleed out of my pulsating vein. Be the innocence I ingest, and the feces left behind me. The tuner anomaly in your brain growth is of mankind as is lost everything gone towards your compensates' headlong head beating of logicality. Death match fire struck. Putrification of the anomaly that I am. I am. There are always drawbacks to perfection. The fighter your sign the choker your breath. Sloth-fire. Demon chain enablers swimming the sea of heartlessness for the helpless. Connect the dots. Whore hell hound fire wind earth scourge in my own time. Billy goat gruff heaven hell starving driven. There are no peace time prayer holes.  I am shot from hell embedded in the earth and my wondrous flowers grow at you every day. Static light ream fishing hole disparaging device. I go to the dog and pony show every day….. I depreciate the accountancies of said individuals every day. My various forms of infestation set free for you to make the base beat of life glorious pearly gates dancing dove fighting soul freedom prance manly strut. Panties on the window sill panties on the floor, panties hangin off my computer screen and fucking on the floor. Generation good times. Golden years fire range. Nigger shit dog hell. Bird shit praise hell. Satan. Situation fine must. Crazy blind blond lust at work TV rust.  Numb is your friend, numb is your rapist. Duck and cover run and hide. Hell is on its way coming towards you where ever you chase through the forest through the trees with jackal eyes and gnashing of your blood dripping teeth. You'll want your mommy, you'll yearn for death, and cry to the ground where ever you despair and the heavens too, to be numb just one more time. Generation fake times hell plastic you now. You'll want it and you'll get it. You'll buy it and you'll loath it. One cannot destroy now without blemishing all of realities time line. Professor of the destination stereo go fast. Hole in the arm rock in the glass wall builder. Working everyday all the time rent paying bridge destroyer. Wanna fight? Double barrel 100 proof vodka shotgun tuff guy hurricane fighter pilot. We are all the incompetent delight. I am the density foremost and the five riders of hierarchy. Lee Williams and the furious five singing and dancing upon the grave of this dying planet. Stop. Do you hear it? The everything at one time that builds the nothing? I hear it a lot. Drives me purely insane. I want to be gone from it. The sounds, the motions. Sometimes as I drive in the night with my car wanting to stop when it can because it would like to, as I , I am, I feel as if I've just left the house of shadows whose personage is coveted by its own lies……. In and out goes the heavy musky rotted densely porous maggot infested smoky breaths of all the lie upon lie upon lie without precept. Sometimes I go on and on and on from the home from wince I've come to the house of deceived death and feel as if I'm riding off into the sunset, and yet here I sit and no sun has risen. These are the end of my days. These are always the beginnings of life times. …….and my fight continues.  Verily, verily I say unto you my brothers of book hidden in black couch with stinkin floppin fish upon its mattress- lay there. Just lie there and pee. Piss yourself and fall asleep with a lit cigarette set it all aflame and arise anew like the phoenix from the ashes and drive as I in the night towards a sunrise that never comes. Ashes, ashes we all fall down.

Lee Jason Williams.

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"Not until we are lost-in other words, not until we have lost the world-do we begin to find ourselves." -Henry Thoreau

"Chastity is the most unnatural of the sexual perversions." –Remy de Gourmont

1:39 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

WRECKED MAN
Current mood: distractable
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping

9:41 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

A LIST OF THINGS FOR PEOPLE TO DO......
Current mood: TOUCHY-FEELY (kiss my ass)
Category: TOUCHY-FEELY (kiss my ass) Friends

No way out. Spiraling staircase downward. The fire that burns you in hell is so cold it hurts. I have  seen it. I have felt it. The loneliness and darkness of this cold is beyond my comprehension to describe. All by yourself. Burned in effigy. Life- behind and on top of me. Going to the land of rape and honey- I am a desolate landscape with no soul and very little money. I have a lot of feelings about it- mostly pertaining to my ass. Let me tell you exactly how I feel about it.....

Piss on global anything- global warming, globalization, global positioning system, globe trotters, spinning globe, global treaties.... anything planetary for that matter. Kiss my ass. Lying back stabbing accusing piece of shit scott cronk can eat shit. Fat people can kiss my ass. People with hair lips can kiss my ass. People with diseases can kiss my Ass. Foreigners can kiss my ass. Shit ass fuckin Americans can kiss my ass. Lazy Americans. Kiss my ass. People that don't like cussing can kiss my ass. People that don't wanna kiss my ass can eat shit. Bikers can kiss my ass. People that carry knives can kiss my ass. Bills can kiss my ass. The lying piece of shit American government can kiss my ass. Democrats can kiss my ass. Republicans can kiss my ass. People who don't share crack can kiss my ass. People that make it hard to find heroin can kiss my ass. People that don't like reading can kiss my ass. Nature can kiss my ass. People that don't like nature can kiss my ass. American food can kiss my ass. People that like fried foods can kiss my ass. Fried ass kissing. Anything official can kiss my ass. People that don't like licorice can kiss my ass. Health nuts can kiss my ass. People that don't like all natural anything can kiss my ass. Hippies can kiss my ass. Wall mart can kiss my ass. People that don't like wall mart can kiss my ass. Kissin my ass can kiss my ass. Fuck the internet. Piss on myspace. People that listen to one kind of music can kiss my ass. Earthlings can kiss my ass. Animals can kiss my ass. Dirt in my car can kiss my ass. White supremacists can kiss my ass. Anyone not my color can kiss my ass. Old cars can kiss my ass. Cop cars can kiss my ass. Love you guys though man. People that speed when I go slow can kiss my ass. People that go slow when I speed can kiss my ass. AA can kiss my ass. DUI's can kiss my ass. Living can kiss my ass. People that think I'm weird or different or random can kiss my ass. Being part of the herd can kiss my ass. Pills can kiss my ass. Expensive pills can kiss my ass. Whoever reads this can kiss my ass. People that don't read my blogs can kiss my ass. Television can kiss my ass. People that say they don't like TV can kiss my ass. Stupid people can kiss my ass. France can kiss my ass. Third world countries can kiss my ass. Starving people can kiss my ass. People down at the mission can kiss my ass. Expensive cups at starbux can kiss my ass. Ugly people can kiss my ass. Tom can kiss my ass. People that think it's weird that I have a few myspaces can kiss my ass. Moving again and again can kiss my ass. 2008 can kiss my god damned ass.   People that think I'm old can kiss my ass. People that call green day punk can kiss my ass. People that find it ok to go as Satan on Halloween but not Hitler can kiss my ass.  Ex-girlfriends are all right. Adriana is amazing. Love my daughter. Dora can kiss my ass. I can kiss my own ass. Piss on Christians. Piss on jews. Piss on Buddhists.  Piss on Muslims. Piss on Quakers. Piss on the KKK. Fuck skin-heads. Piss on yer mom- that might be fun. The illuminati can kiss my ass. Negative people can kiss my ass. Fuck off. Any fagot fuckin pussy boy lying sacks of shit named scott cronk can kiss my ass. Fuck off scott. Kiss my ass. Ass. Backwards ass okies can kiss my ass. People that watch nascar can kiss my ass. People that sit around and watch sports can kiss my ass. The sooners and anyone they play can kiss my ass. All the radio stations on your FM dial can kiss my ass. Norman kan kiss my ass. Kiss my ass. Fuck the deep fork group. People with pictures of themselves on their car that think they are kool can kiss my ass. Small towns and big cities can kiss my ass. Being addicted to everything can kiss my ass. Late feez at my storage facility can kiss my ass. My Momz alright. I love her. She coulda kissed my ass in different times of my life. Love ya mom. Piss on goodwill industries. Kiss my ass. Buffets can kiss my ass. The fat stupid black night security guard at the bell isle wall mart can kiss my ass. He's a dumb ass. The melting pot of California can kiss my ass. Stockton California can kiss my ass. Most chefs can kiss my ass. Big fat titties can kiss my ass. Eating can kiss my ass. Starving can kiss my ass. Piss in the ass. Gas prices can kiss my ass. People that wanna listen to 80's music all the time can kiss my ass. Alaska can kiss my ass. Cheap hookers that try to charge too much can kiss my ass. Fat old hookers can kiss my ass. White people can kiss my ass. Evasive drugs can kiss my ass. Bad Asian drivers can kiss my ass. Slow fat black women can kiss my ass. fuck tipping. People that don't tip can kiss my ass. Fuck the Milky Way. Piss on this solar system. Piss on pi. Binary is kool. Sometimes god can kiss my ass. Satan can eat shit all the time. Oklahoma can kiss my ass. Black people that think the whole world is against them can kiss my ass. People that don't like slayer can kiss my ass. People that don't like jazz can kiss my ass. People that don't like bach can kiss my ass. "Hooked on Bach" can kiss my ass. People that don't like music from other countries cause they don't understand the language can kiss my ass. People that say anti-Semitic can kiss my ass- I'm prejudice- and you're not special enough to get your own i-hate-u-name. Scum. Kiss my ass. Stupid okies that think the only two cities in existence in California are San Francisco and LA and that the whole state is a beach can kiss my ass. You're a stupid dumb ass. Kiss my ass. People that don't understand suicide can kiss my ass. People afraid of thunder and lightning storms can kiss my ass. fixing cars can kiss my ass. Exercise can kiss my ass. Measuring things can kiss my ass. Prison rape can kiss my ass. Cowboy hats can kiss my ass.  Backwards prejudice hicks can kiss my ass. Silent movies can kiss my ass.  Musicals can kiss my ass. People that call anyone who likes star trek a trekie can kiss my ass. People who interpret dreams can kiss my ass. Believe me.... ok?- If I left you out.... kiss my ass.

6:12 PM - 7 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

DISCO RAVEN HELLFIRE MAN
Current mood: content
Category: Sports

Give a smile in hells direction just to let it know it can stay where it's at. Cesspool car-key disco. Rambo slow-dance love story. Plant-life tri-pod sex life. We are the once beatin generation. There's no even steven. We are now in the dispensation of x+y=0. Once beaten and now defined. Always beaten self defiled. Our freedom is the example to which the world will expire. Perspire. Vermouth black-tie and pestalance affair of the heart. Fuck ansel adems. I don't care if he is dead. Fuck em anyway. Fuck books about plants. Fuck people who write poetry and try to rhyme all the time. Fuck hippies. You don't exist. Yea, and piss on paper moons- paper moons can kiss my ass. I smell like a well oiled machine. Smells like hurt and pain and the expiration of your government and two young boys in lust. Im here to screw you. Just passin on the good times. Just makin sure you're a well oiled machine. Ready for war. Driven. Driven like the north-wind and ready to be driven or rode again. I hate waitin for txt messages. I never wait for nothing. Prints of van gogh art are stupid. Means your tryin to be cool. Having art prints on your wall is a sell out and means you don't know art. Means you probably want 60's pop culture icon pictures in your bathroom and your kitchen never smells like food. Means you wouldn't know a good coffee table book if you were beaten with one and left in the alley behind a five and dime and stabbed with a left on the carpet half stepped on crack-pipe. Needle and thread that into your vain jacked on a wet willie with A fed head. Only the best of gods could have invented Asian girls. Not your god. He's a little on the drabby side. He hangs out with fireside Baptists, creates mole-hills in Arkansas and calls em mountains. He leaves motel rooms all tidy the dinner table all dirty and watches cars go in circles. He don't much believe in things that believe In him. I don't much believe in streets without gutters, love without malls, and religions whose churches lock their doors. I don't much believe in people who don't believe in themselves. Hookers on Tenth Street Jesus in the liquor store. Hookers on my street. Jesus on the dance floor. Give up the ghost. Put up the bounty. Deliver the book. Die on the cross. Christians never tire of bleeding all over the buffet every Sunday provided by the Buddhists. Will you die for him? By day I'm an angry clown by night I build my masks. Be calm. Be logical. If I walk with him he torments me. If I run he chases. Strike. When I join him everyone hates me. Wooden cabinets hardened face. You look for me every where... I've left without a trace. Same old story same old lines. Tear down the virtues tear down the vines. I sit here thinking of lines to write for you. I really need adhesives. I desperately need glue. Bouts of depression bouts of restraint. This brain I'm housing is not for the faint. Old dusty bookstores riddled with beards hidden by pubes hidden by signs on main streets out in the open in your face. All you can find is the cigarettes in the gas station across the street. Got some change? I'm from up north and outa gas my kids are hungry and the wife won't blow without a little cash. Just need a little gas. And a rocket ship. And a star ship. A worm hole. A holodeck. A star cruiser.  A blow up girlfriend. A chatroom. A dating service. I need a poem. I need a commercial. More paint for my sign. New lies for society are created to cover the old unbelievable ones. Mimic the fashionable nonsense. To the T. All together now. Do the safety dance. False consciousness strangles every little bit of oxygen created by plant life. You are what I would call- without. Lucky for me- I don't use oxygen, don't need it- gotta different kinda engine. Don't need it to fire my plugs, or to figure out what happened to the constitution, or to know who I accept or why or if I even care. Don't need oxygen to pick out cloths at the mall. As a matter of fact I never needed oxygen to turn up slayer real loud as I cruse under the freeway downtown where all the homeless crack smokers are at and flip em all off. I don't need oxygen to tell you screw god or he doesn't exist just to get you to tell me im goin to hell or to watch you jump around like your on a stick of strings. Cause I don't breathe man. I don't breathe this air in man. It's contaminated. There's humans breathin it and your all dyin of the human condition and everyone has a look in their eye like the whole shit house is goin up in flames and death is on the populace breath. Your all for sell for the cheapest price possible. Who's gunna sell you god? Whos gunna sell you government? Whos gunna sell you love? Whos gunna buy you death?  None of it's for sell and it all owns you people anyway. Go meet your owner. Go get to know em. Might do you good. Might change the air. Might make it breathable. Think about the next man for once. Give em love. Hey, give em notice- at least flip em off ya know. These days people will take anything they can get and bad is usually more accepted anyway. Go throw a coke at somebody. People get thirsty man. Yea. w00t.

6:07 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

GOOD BYE HUMANS HELLO BETELGEUSE
Current mood: satisfied
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes

6 months passing in time.... many of my reports have been lost in my travels. Scattered lands scattered times. Battered brains. The "intelligent" life forms here are consumed with depression, fear, and guilt. These animals are no representation of the beings we left here thousands of years ago- the natural order of intelligence in evolution has not served this species well. They seem to fear nearly everything. Their invention of various deities causes them many steps back in action. My children back home do not act this way. Their perceived higher powers seem to make them hate each other and themselves. There seems to be a current running everywhere letting them all to know to be on edge, accomplish nothing, and self-destruct.  Be ye all amazed.  All societies here are built on fear. All self conscious beings and their pets have incarcerated themselves. Freedom hardly exists anywhere. Dark clouds loom anywhere humans and their stretched fingers exist. I am feeling more concrete in my judgments and assumptions concerning the fate of this race of backwards thinking monkeys everyday. I have begun my tries of communication to the Stellar Commission. Leaving here I should be soon. A great abundance of mineral recourses still exist here on "earth"...... the solar system can be done with this self conscious self loathing unloving batch of roaches consuming every part of this planet possible. I have sent messages through to the commission for the commission and for my family also. I am missing everything about home very much. Must remain professional. Dare I say I have shed tears concerning this? I dare say this mission is up and over itself. I have already named the habitants of these lands ....... loveless. My instincts are rarely wrong or off at all. I judged. I inspected. I interrogated. I assimilated. I do believe I have been realized by most around me. It is obvious I am different. It is obvious I am not from here. Judgments have come to conclusion. Labeling them "Loveless" barely scratches the surface. They must be extinguished and exterminated. Every night my communications continue....... I will continue this exasperating ritual till I am sure my communications are being received.

D.M.S.

"it has served us well this myth of christ" Pope Leo X.

1:13 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

HELLO- MY NAME IS DUKE STYLEZ
Current mood: bouncy
Category: Life

Day 67..... Losing track of time. This human form I've been given by the commission is quite fallible- it seems to need or want something all of the time. This human shell seems to be dying- no more than the rest of them though I suppose. I do seem to have the human condition- it is not settling with me any better than it settles with the earthlings. I am rot with depression. I fear I am beginning to feel, feel as like the rest of the collective consciousness residing here on earth. Desolate. Lonely. Distorted. Dying. I may soon forget who I am and remain human forever...... or until I expire. Must keep my mind on the mission. Must press on. Duke-

7:27 PM - 0 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

LIFE REFFLE
Current mood: aroused
Category: Travel and Places

Part 3. Cohabitant-    I was running out of the monetary reproductions of the "U.S. dollar" I was given by the un-stellar commission. Stellar indeed. They, I am sure, will read the reports first- I will realize for them my unsettling outset for their seeming vacuous tenure.  Ass. Ass to them all. I had to do something to accrue monetary standing to forward the mission. This, I fear, may have been the Stellar Commission's plan all along- knowing I would run out which would put me in order to need more which would in order drive me to associate with the habitants to gain for me what I need. They have endangered their own mission in trying to hasten it. I am all inclusive. I come to win. This is why I am always sent on these types of missions. I am now working within environments with the humans providing sustenance for other humans- which is providing for me the "cash money" that I need. Strange- these beings seem to require a lot of sustenance to remain alive. The earth beings consume a lot of everything.  The accompanying work staff...... they seem so..... new, so earthly, so dumb. It's this way everywhere. This mission is becoming tedious and unbearable. My original conclusions may have been correct. This race and its planet may need to be destroyed. –Duke M. Stylez

11:57 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

STRAWS ROACHES BALOONS & A FIELD OF POPPIES
Current mood: tired
Category: Travel and Places

Part 1. Intestinal decay, mind rot, body rot, I hate you.-    Everyone I know manifests themselves before me in letters full of blue blood virtue winding through our veins.   Nights of lights and perpetual dime store novels come alive in this deep and empty pool. You think I'd learn. You think I'd remember. You think I'd stay home. Eat more moral fiber. Crack the tires. Build the fires. I bring no buyers. Last in line with a ticket to ride. Last in line but still I hide.  I explode with light in the darkness, you, left feeling murdered lied to and blameless. You are just another victim aren't you? Sky scraper tragedy personality test. I beat the street in a white line vest. There's your prophesy. Feel me with heresy. Trash in the junkyard junk in my vain.  Hiding out in the open balanced in a delicate edgy glassy silvery bug infested light. Crawling on the walls and crawling through my hair. Eating through my brain and heart then flying off and into the air. Reactions are contagious. Confusion is a straight line. Fear is the enemy. Logic is nothing but a simple equation.  Logic does not exist. I stop. I see a lady and say hello. With her eyes I quickly disappear. I couldn't even see myself. I am invisible until obscene. The movement of her pantyhose caused a friction that ignited fires in the sinus, in the congress, in India, in me.  A fire that made her lesbian, a fire that made her crawl to her knees before a man sucking for more, a fire that makes her husband cheat. Everyday. In everyway. She gave me a disease. It's airborne and very dangerous. I'm dying from powdered sexual human syndrome- The cake-ee kind found in dirty downtown neighborhood park restrooms. The tongue in cheek kind kept there until it goes into another mouth jousting and swirling and entangled with all the blasphemies spoke by another.  The chat-ee kind found in touch-ee feel-ee bathroom stalls of a gay bar.... and the kinky ally too. The loving kind- kindling a bigger fire driving people who used to love each other that no longer even like each other to kurl up together like a coiling snake of heated matted sweaty cutlass of human flesh and become one sensual entity of complete desire and fuel of the there's smoke we must be fire. I want some too. We will pay dearly and everything. You are so money she says to me. We have nothing you want here. We have nothing you can have here. We accept no currency here. Your crease can come and go unnoticed here. Goods and services are our system of a down.  Lifeless firestarter of the nightlight loving gay gale winds. Snarl at the sight of my inside voice for you. My switchboard. My self controlled off button. My score card in this death march game. Death march blameless murder no fame. There is no disputing the decisive.                                                        
We are all fake, we do not exist. We cannot be stopped.          
After these messages-                                            
Executions will follow.                                          
Executed by your god using my rules. Tip toe through the garden of young girl innocents smelling of the new edible flowers and twisted knowledge down trot hot and ready for being lied to.  Already being died to. Using my rules. Using and losing my tools. Tricks of the trade in this love game parade. Everything is proposed as initiatives. You are punished because of the future and we die because of the past. Playboy canterfolds and penthouse pets.  Washington DC in our front yards with the musky smell of blooming semen flowers and old corroding homeless people. Your frown is their smile. Your death is their crack pipe. Their death is never heard of. Staring at their desert sky lying beneath a bridge. How can I not see with their eyes when I am one of them? Rocks used as pillows in restless drunken sleep rocked like a baby on a boat tipping down a stream trickling with their blood. I steal from them whenever I possibly can with my prowling lion ego. Where do you think I get my tools from? You are so not money she says to me. Gel in my hair and clean toe nails lie for me to the neverend. You will go nowhere with me, quickly.  She smells of fake flowers, hidden speakers, and tidied up bed clothing. Not the fresh cotton scent mind you. She fires for everyone and only herself.  She fires and spreads for everyone but herself.....
part 2. The book store- Demolitions aren't going very well. Still mostly happy and haven't done any chemicals or liquid set-me-free in a few months. Maybe the guy at the coffee counter knows something about the hookers or whores around here. Schools of fish usually bring great loads of shit. Real juicy. Stinky. The kinds that make you implode as you swallow them and set them off. Destroys everything around you too. "Bomb digity" is what they call them downtown. Great for demolitions. Girl at the checkout counter doesn't seem to be on anything. Not sure what's happening or wish I didn't.  No one seems to notice I'm here. I try to hide from being hidden as usual -nothing here but books to hide in. hmm. That only works at home. Must leave. Run for cover. Girl at the counter again- "have a nice day- thank you"- what does it all mean? Sun outside. Am I more visible out here? Getting hungry. Take more pills for not eating or go on operation "Asian district" recon? Misery under the bridge. Need to have more dental work done. Everything black and white. Either im alien or the only human here. I put more gel in my hair and try to blend in. It's mostly working. Everything is hungry. Everything is binary. Everything is edible. Everything wants me and wants to be rid of me. Everything has a hole and everything is a hole and everything wants to make me a hole and everything wants to be inside of my hole. Fill me feel me complete me destroy me. Diatribes. Must go back to the plane crash. Sorry. Love you. Will send more reports of the mission next week. Miss you.
Signing off for now- agent Duke Stylez.

12:18 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

YOU GAVE UP. GO HOME AND TAKE YOUR BALL WITH YOU.
Current mood: aroused
Category: Food and Restaurants

Happiness is depression and sadness is death. I crawl inside your backside- I like to feel its warm breath. I need something sharp to slice and let the sickness bleed out. I grab the vodka. I slice. I cut. I mangle. It causes pain. Powders going up my nose open up my brain. Candyland is the game of life we're playin here on this Ferris wheel. UNO. Im sorry and im not. Im stuck at the top. The chair is rocking back and forth. I can see the city from afar with all their people tall as buildings from here. Even though the carnie workin the lever may be a hunerd feet away he feels so unbearably close. Like on top of me.  Sweaty face.  Red ears.  Porous nose.  The skin shaking loose from its fat and muscle that beats children and controls governments  as he speaks something indiscernible. The cracked lips move. Im uncomfortable. I want off the ride. I want my money back. I wanna be numb. So high that I can see letters and words floating out of my mouth as my brain masticates the thought of it all, as in all of it. I become tangled in twisted trees. I feel loosened among the deadened leaves. I wanna be a cog in the gone machine and leave alone forever this lonely crowed of soulless cattle letting the earth fall into the ocean just waiting for god to come. Waiting for their limbs to be moved for them. Waiting for their lips to spit out the words for them. Waiting for themselves to care like they say they do. They just stand there every day with a darkened cloud over their head self-made waiting for their existence to change all because god said it would.   ......and you will believe.    ......and you will follow.   ......and nothing will be done.    ......and nothing will be felt.     ......and it'll all look for realz. Because they all gave up hope. Because they all handed over their will over to nothing as they bowed to the ground and kneeled down before you, and kissed the ring. God would like to know why every one is making the wretched bible so true. We're all just trying to give up and fail and kill and fill the seas with blood like the bible says to sir. Just following orders sir. All the religious texts that foretell are dictating not forecasting.  My bad means sorry and sorry means nothing.  So, during all this we are not supposed to filth ourselves with the leavening agents? Nay. Bathe in drugs and wash your hair in booze.  Take a chance to forget you've all decided to lose.  As long as we all remember who's wearing the pants and who's making em. The big ol sweat shop mother earth. Just let that echo in all your heads so that you can feel like victims so that your not to blame, and keep on handing over the will. Hand over fist. The late great planet earth. Buncha loosers. 

11:20 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

WHITE PICKET FENCE DRIED ROSES AND A BOTTLE OF GIN
Current mood: amused

Dear world......

I was born with certain things inside me Concerning my intelligence, aptitude, and dereliction. I have always had a strange point of view. I not only see things how they are but also my brain makes things up. My brain, you see, is out to destroy me. I, you see, am guilty in the first degree of being an alcoholic addict. I took my first drink somewhere around 18. I say around because things got hazy. I took a couple of drinks of wine for some reason and drank 2 bottles to myself that night. From that night forward I drank all straight booze and did any drug I could to the point of death. I died once. Crashed a car. Lost some girlfriends and didn't gain the ones I should have. I've had jail time. Got into a fight with a cop. Got stabbed. I was bitten by a wild animal. Succumbing to my fleshy desires not only destroys everything for me, but drives me to do everything I do not believe in. I have a hole in my chest that loneliness and despair blows through. It's like if you had a hole in your back yard, but the hole was expandable, and the hole wanted more stuff thrown into it. So you do. You fill it and fill it and the hole gets bigger and the house caves in and your wife leaves you because you're throwing everything in the hole and it's getting bigger and bigger. It expands to the street and other cars fall in. then…. You have to take off work and eventually get fired because you need to throw stuff into the hole. Every once and a while you get a brain and decide this whole thing is ridiculous and wanna live a regular life and no longer throw stuff into the hole. The hole never goes back to the original size, and no matter how happy you are or what you do, you hear the hole in the back yard calling you begging for you to throw stuff into the hole. This is addiction. You will go to any lengths to make this hole happy. Its hurts you. It destroys you and turns you inside out. You aren't who you were and you will never be the same. You won't know how to get back, and there won't be a way. No matter what happens though, somehow, through it all, even on the happiest days, outa nowhere, you wanna go throw stuff in the hole. You hear it calling. It tortures you, and it always will. This is addiction. This is the dance of the still born dead walking life moving and reverberating in out of your destroyed lives. Move with me. Dance. Feel the beat. Die the death. Feel the pain. Loose the belongings. Hide in the closets and use the blankets for drapes. Lay on the floor with me and play with roaches and drink tvarsksy 100.  Drive with me in the hour of nonexistence and help me look for hookers to help this anxiety of three eight balls of crack flow out of me. Im gunna listen and examine every exhale so that I can breathe it in and suck your life dry. Im gunna kill you and grind you into powder and sniff you and melt you and put you in my arm and then hold you and try to love you. You are the left overs. I am the black hole so dence so small so ignored sucking in all the light everything is gone. You are the new pretty green happy spruce blades of grass fighting and wiggling through the crack in the side walk. Im the boy on the bicycle with a card in my wheel skidding up and down the side walk having fun not knowing you even exist. I am darkness only distinguishable in darkness. I am turned inside out. I cry, then you cry, and that makes me laugh. I am the joy and terror in your lucent dream.  I go to sleep and dream and this all goes away. Sun is up. Gotta go to work. See ya ina little bit......

Sincerely yours. L-dub

Ps. Hahahahahahahahhehehehehehe. Here I come again. Hmm.

12:56 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

SQUIRMING WORMS ARE BUILDING FENCES
Current mood: awake
Category: Automotive

Swirling in the kitchen fan and thrown out the back door
Thrown out the back gate and goin to the store Huffin gas outa bag and sleepin by the garbage can The barren straights of hell can't be felt if you can't even think man
The quieter I get the louder I scream. I always make the mistake of speaking to the druids. I, of all people should know better. The robots compete complete you. They destroy their function.Their fluids leaking all over the front pages of our news papers. There's a desert storm out there beyond the perimeter. Beyond the thought lines. In the back of your head, on the inside, behind your brain. The sands of time pick up blow whirl wind and take away all the people left in this
desolate isolation. Nothing left but hour glass blond haired disease brain women with sand running to their bottoms. Hours almost up yo. There's a tall building housing the investigation juicy eyes kill the innocents and thought criminals institution. Looks like a tower. Like in prison yards. With the guy on top with the gun and all. The smiley I get the frowner I feel. With sharp knives and daggers all my layers I start to peel. I wear my darkened goggles to protect my eyes in this desert I use as a thoroughfare every day. Trudging. Quietly. Hiding. Lying. Wearing my hood. Wearing my mask. Sand in my shoes and sand in my ears. Sand in your pretty eyes drying up your tears. Possession has taken me over many a year ago. I have broken on through to the other side. This is what they ask for. This is what they pay for. This is what they sing about in the bar. Jab the needle suck the straw. Huff the bag smoke the pipe. Pop some pills take a trip.  Smoke some grass hide in a bottle. We all left the house at the same time so whyz nobody out here? It was supposed to rain but the streets are all covered with sand. Where'd it all come from? And whys there no way back? Once you cross.....  Everyone's gone, alien, or robot. I may be a shell, but at least I'm a shell of a man. There's a desert storm out there right now I tell you. Granted, it's died down and all. Wooo, man. Come middle of day when all the aliens and robots come out I wanna put on goggles put on masks pull over hoods pop another scrip run for cover pull out my phone hide inside my computer and be a user. Be an abuser. Run my bar code I'm all human. Human- what I've always wanted to be and despised being all my life. Check me throwin up all my corporate signs. I got power yo.  It is my complexities that distinguish me from the rocky grains that cover these strange lands. On my day off from working, I venture out onto the barren lands of the city wayside. There always seems to be a whole lot more sand everywhere covering everything on days I'm not working. Old lost ghosts filling book stores. The winds of time blow through the city and the sand forms into what looks like tidal waves from the great oceans that don't want me no more. I try to surf. As I fly through the air bullets fly out through the back of my head..... But my face seems to stay intact. Intact bold. Intact and sold. The ocean detests me. The land animals contest me. Ingest me. I holler uno everyday because I'm winning and losing because I'm playing alone. Whats so wrong with my kind? What's so wrong with my non-sold out and un-commercial mind? Too much to ingest and digest. I bed down now to fly off and dream of things much worse and much better. A world twisted and expandable by my direction and wish.  I bid you all as you all wish. Be gone from me.

8:33 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

CHURCH PEOPLE CHURCH STEEPLE COW PATTY FIELD
Current mood: confused

Psychology in the hallways psychology in the streets. The people in the tallest building down town own the capital. McDonalds is part of the matrix. I'm disconnected. You won't see me there. Look at the lady as she gets taller and taller and weaker and weaker as she sways gently in the breeze over looking all the newest highways ....Becoming all the new byways. Old black couch that's where we've slept. Tempered dropped and shattered. All the houses battered. In a straight line they go..... Various pretty colors.... peach, white, green. Seems the people on the poor side of town have a different store for getting paint. The rich folks only get brick, white or brown. Sad, so sad.  Just look at the eyes I've never wept. The rich folks close their blinds even though there's no reason to. The poor folks let the sun in..... they have plenty to hide. Then, night time hits. Tumble weeds roll through the huge yards cut trimmed and blown. The metallic echoing through a tube to my ear sounds flowing out my lungs. The dark end of town is all lit up, its late, that's why it's dark. Old black couch I feel its cry. Crack pipes, whores, needles, cut up sonic straws and thieves run and roll under my car as I pass through the neighborhood. Vodka fuels their fire as they roll under the car they latch on the under carriage, like John Wayne, crawling up to the hood, up to my window, and stair me in the eye. My evil eye. If you don't listen we all might die. Shattered picked up and put back together. Mismatched pieces drive around the town trying to buy glue and adhesives in places only offering sedatives. Bright green eyes I've never slept. QUIET. Are they hiding in the bushes are they hiding in the trees? Are they looking in my windows in the blinds through the strings? Am I turning out the lights are they blinking in the streets? Am I walking on water floating across the carpet hit by the snowy television screen? Tragedies in my wallet and tragedies in my heart. Tragedies on our insides right from the start. Purity is a one way street. Im a back alley abortion. Grapes don't taste like wine and I don't look like Christ. Old black couch burn it down. Old black couch your eyes turn brown. Great old book of murderous lie.... please use a saw to help you get by.

12:19 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

THE GRAND VIEW OFF THE BALCONY FROM MY BRAIN
Current mood: forgotten

This desolate planet is not what was meant for Leo the lion. I use picks and sharpen my knives to build the arena. I watch me from the window from across the way. I walk with me hand in hand. Was it me he was talking to when he said "don't look back"? I don't know. But I did though. I looked back. I didn't turn into a pillar of salt. But I saw things very strange very strangely. Very strange indeed. As I turned around, looking over my shoulder, kinda non-shalant like, trying to not get noticed or make it look like I'm not looking back.... cause your not supposed to... look back...... I see clouds.... a fog.... dense and mirror like. Pressure points in the fog gleaming like stars. Touch them. Touch me. Connect the dots before the lights die out and dissipate into the fog and I disappear forever. Wake up. Reality is happening everywhere, it seems like such a dream, such a fog. Dream state. Such a wonderful place to be.  It's a tomb in a womb with a wound. The Darkness is so thick and so sharp that it grazes my heart.... leaking out black blood. I must be cleansed. Filtered. Purged. Incisions. Disconnections. As I walk from where I came, the cables dragging behind me, connected to me, hooks scrapping and catching and pulling on the concrete pathways that lead me I make them which came first. Pain view love child. Mono tone brown haired loudness. Hell hounds open their hinged mouths and let out a hallow deep growl that echoes down the halls of the pathways as they excrete maggots. Maggots created from me. The Rotting me. My rotting flesh. My Rotting soul. Goods and services rendered. Now I'm on the run and everyone can feel it. Do you see my fear? Do you see me shaking? Do you hear me when I stutter? Does my silence deafen you? Do you see the cables dragging behind me that used to be used to move me? That used to be used to make me talk? That made me move with the others upon the stage? ....With the guided moonlight hanging from a cable reading my lines feeding the romance. So now I'm disconnected then.....  Now I find that my mind has gone out and gotten a concealed weapons license. It's been shooting me. The affects of this mind bending conference is..... STOP.  Don't think for a second I'm not in mortal danger. GO. The madness of my corrupt and emotional mind. The vastness of my entangled bind. Crack pipes singing to the smoker as he walks down the street. Broadway signs advertising tacos as I hit the beat. Masturbation is a detailed response. The visceral path I have taken has led me to this fearful box that I am now trapped inside, and now, my only recompense is, is that it's locked. Locked with chains. Bared up. Screwed down. Nailed up. Buried down. Tied up......  with my heart. 

8:33 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

AN AFTERNOON OF FEELINGS AND SOUL MURDER
Current mood: determined
Category: Automotive

The chitter chatter of the hordes of dwarves rises at me and unto itself and communicates as one voice. The louder it gets the smaller I feel. I turn inward. The fans dropped from the ceiling turning slowly and feel to be right on top of me. The dirt looks like the sky when you crawl under the worms. Waiting. The sky gets dark and the speakers grow so big and get so loud in this cemetery of drugs. The scruffy edges of the sasquatches face never move a bit as one burger after another is flipped in salute in all Americans honor. Dog days gone the men stare at the flag on the greens as a man putts through life between the trees. Where is my life on this very day? Was it left so very deep inside someone when they moaned for me to be there? Is it in the faded peel marks on the street outside from my vehicles way gone? Maybe it's mixed in the paints left on a bumper I ran and destroyed my car into? Or maybe it's trapped inside of a bottle of prescription pills I haven't yet started taking or gotten prescribed?  What is your name and how did you get here? Can you promise to see me here like this again in this room of broom and drug store delight? Watching the watchers my cell phone contacts list seems so desperately empty. Loneliness is a feeling not a place. Am I somewhere inside my head? Are you the same face as the last one? How did you get into my bed? From city to city and place to place I always leave here without your embrace but someday I will walk right into your arms.  Cement arms and cement face, I'm so very done with this condescending race. Then disputations of time and its nether regions spring up new legions of wish you were heres and let by-gones be by-gones. They trespass. They are welcomed without coffee. To awaken me so early in the morning is not right. I'm always wishing they would leave or not come back. I've been messing with a paradigm of Pandora's Box. Watch it open. Watch the contents change. The box is my only friend now. Show me your friends and I will show you the future. The hour is soon at hand all for one come one come all. There will be no more disputations. No more confusion. All things will become clear. Everyone but me will come to a complete understanding. I will be nothing more than a vessel. The heavy thrusty velvety sighs are not desired nor needed...... anymore. The blood is squeezed from my brain like water from a sponge and drips from my lips onto everything I touch. The flavor is beyond eternity, any moans for lust sake are now clearly last on the list of things to be heard or to cause in any efforts sake. Look boy. Do you see me? Are you becoming a feeling? Are you going nowhere very deeply? Crow bar arms and crowbar face. Did you know the best of loneliness is many times dripping with lace? Brick wall eyes spilled out suitcase. Loneliness is a feeling. I am no place.

8:18 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

AND OVER HERE IN THIS CORNER WEIGHING IN AT.......
Current mood: anxious

What is romance? Romance is two people making ham sandwiches together. Romance is sharing a box of hot tamales in a darkened theater. Romance is two sets of fingers tangled together aimlessly going somewhere. Romance is a candle light dinner burned and smothered out because of being tangled up together in front of the tv watching a movie and couldn’t stop. Birds flying against the wind. Waves splashing against the rocks. Hearts ripped out and sewn together. Romance is discovering new things together. Sleeping through dusk and figuring out the dawn. Burning breakfast and learning to use the microwave together. Romance is writing a poem about a girl and her never knowing about it. Romance is colorful. Pretty Lights in the night sky. Watching the shooting starz together. Leaves breaking under two delightful sets of footsteps.  Romance is swearing off romance forever and like it or not here we go again. Romance is planting roses for a girl so that she will have them forever. Anticipation of seeing each other again.  Romance is fumbling your fork on a first date. Wiping spaghetti sauce off her cheek. Bathing her, shaving her legs, and drying her off, brushing her hair. Two heads one pillow. Romance is two old people holding hands walking through the mall. Saving the last bite for her. Romance is putting her to bed when she’s sick and getting her medicine from the pharmacy. Romance is in your heart in the way nature moves, its delicate and not so delicate ways. Romance is a fairy tale put into action. U and me. Before during and after we exist. Romance helps love stand tall. Romance is forever. Always.

8:22 AM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment