Sometimes it isn’t enough to draw, sing or play sometimes you just ... write.  You write because it’s something poisonous in you that has to come out and this vial.. that has been sitting inside me like a golden blue star spotted century egg that is about to burst and release nothing more than what a regular old rotten egg would..

I had been sitting in my room in the same hoodie with my back against the same wall with every cell of my body starved of drugs for days.  I was fixing to go boost some otc cough syrup to dull the pain. Shakey handed with still back up against the wall- something solid, something real, something concrete.. not absurd like what my hands were doing.  Smoothing the insides and pasting on another layer of tin foil like I was doing a plaster caste of I don’t know.. some celebrity face. Smoothing the foil into the internal caverns and ridges of a beaten red orange leather thrift store bag.  The kind with a long strap. The long strap worked nice, I kept the bag open just enough to drop small items
Inside.  Eye shadow.  Lip balm.  Earrings.  Anything I wanted really.  But this time it wasn’t for no fuckin’ beauty project, maybe after I got some of the OTC in my blood my cells will stop crying so bad for junk.

 I once knew a girl 

Who was really mean

I did everything

For her approval

And lost myself

And my mind

Gray.

What is this about?  This gray blob of matter? 

In me since birth, destroying me!

The gray nuisance.

The internal asylum.

The torturous, untouchable entity.

Could I remove thee?

Set myself free?

No, because therefore..

I would be deceased.

Your entrapment astounds me.

Vice's Versa.

It's easy to hate someone from afar.  Then you get up close and find there are so many reasons to feel sorry for them.  You stop loving to hate them altogether and just feel bad.  It's easy to love someone from afar...

Ungarbled. What I meant was: Freezing.

If I had known what was to come I may have staid put.  I would have remained stagnant, even though I always felt stagnant , like an island bog festering with crustaceans and anemone.  However I wanted to try to make money.  Money to give to my mother who I am alone in the world with.  I date and have dated.  In tradition women often find a financial partner as well as a romantic one but such traditions has evaded me.  Perhaps because I am a brute, too seemingly independent, tough and cruel at times.  But I ache for a true partner in life.  One that will really help me pull the reigns and someone whose consoling is just as powerful as mine in my time of need.  Someone who hasn't felt the warm comforts of a tight knit family and reserves their care and support for them in an incestuous tangling of snakes. .  I want sometime who is a loner too.  Someone who has no one to give to but their mother and can give to me as I give to her... and in turn I give them more.   More than they've ever known.  Alas, these are the things of movies .. dramas.. that two lone people, two truly alone people- find solace in each other.

Plasticine Amber Waves of Grain

Since before America became industrialized, the powers the be have been falsely advertising our country.  

Perhaps if America would just admit that we have nothing to offer a person who is looking to start a new life, then people would just stop coming.  Maybe then they would realize that it is probably better to stay and fight for a better life just where they are... maybe then other countries would solidify and fight back at their own powers that be instead of risking their lives to come to the Land That Opportunity Forgot..

We then wouldn't have to worry about our borders.  

Our planes. 

Our boats. 

Those who float in on inner tubes...

Maybe...

Or maybe the damage has already been done.  Perhaps even after the veil of false advertising and the blinding light of plasticine amber waves of grain dissapates, people would still float in on inner tubes, jump borders and who knows what else... 

Who knows what else.....

Who knows what else..... 

To cross into a land that is hung by a noose of siren red tape.  

The trees are lined with purple light

I'm high on a dime store drug tonight

The clouds were dripping, saccharine sweet

The pavement is marshmallow, under my feet

The trees are lined with purple light

I'm high on a dime store drug tonight

The clouds are dripping saccharine sweet..

The pavement is nothing under my feet

I'm dying, right here, in the center

of the street.  

B.

a dynasty of errors within me and now i see a recreation of the foulness repeat why is it that i have to see such a dark place within

under the mattress and into the womb under the table and into the room... look out from the the window and what do you see.. a world that could not be me.  inside an incestuous chamber of doubt 

lays the grout

for the workings

of  

my 

every

anxiety...

from within our boxes we whisper to each other "when when when.. will we get out?  will we ever get out?  what do you mean get out? get out get out getout geouteotuoutugettttttttttoooooooooooooooooooGHHEETOOOOO!!!!!!  

Ghetto. 

The ghetto is everywhere.  from within the ghetto is a ghetto and what radiates out from it is in of itself a reflection of the ghetto.  urban to suburban to rural within each sect you will find the ghetto.  

in a city apartment a girl looks out from her window onto the urban sprawl and says "will i ever get out?"

from a trailer in the country a girl looks upon the brink of suburban sprawl and says "will i ever get out?"

from within the suburban sprawl a girl looks... both ways...and says....}the stiffling is madness for all of us within.  those at either end ... of .... the... dim....{she sees those who wish to stay and those who wish to flee and not a single

one

of 

them

wants

her

company

because 

she 

is 

an 

extension

of

their

self 

they 

wish

not

to 

see

}a bright and shiny glistening doll---eeee on a pristine mantle of despair eyes black and wide glistening unmoved, untouched, by the incessant sound of polishing and vacuuming to maintain the LIE that the....

urban

and

rural

wish

to

see

so 

that

they

can

feel

good

in

right

company

and make a good impression.  

what is it she should be?

{she should be nothing so we can do anything..}

{she should be nothing so we can do anything..}

{and so they abuse the naive and vulnerable}

then they dress her up.

so she looks pretty.

so that everyone knows everything is okay.

as long as she looks pretty. 

everything is okay. 

the second a woman.. 

is in disarray...

... all of the evils of the world are revealed......

Sad wet

Eating depressing desserts

Complex carbohydrate clouds

Plenty of big fat tears

Plump tears rolling down a plump cheek absorbing into a plump pillow

"what a sad wet sack"

And I'm falling into a pool of water wrapped in a white cotton sheet

The bleachers are filled with thin mean olive complected people with their sandy brown hair and thin knobby fingers..

They make appalling faces as the sheet becomes soaked and molds to my mounds of heavy flesh seconds before I submerge completely into the water, an irregular globular form caste against the rigid primary colored racing lanes tiled upon the bottom of the pool...

Rigid lanes for thin rigid people to prove themselves within. Who makes it to one end first but now none of that matters..not in this moment because they all came to see the show, and now they are cleanly dressed in pastel colors, smelling of detergent and department store..

Because the fat woman is drowning, if only she could have fit in the lines, they thought, raced behind us in the lines until all the sad fat melted away, maybe she would be sitting here with us, not making a spectacle of herself..  But then, what would they read then?  What would they read then?

I ate bitter truths to sooth my twisted roots
 and the whirlwhind of ideas physically manifesting
in a shoot
from the field
 that is my skull.
  Spiraling curling - cues -  in vibrant natural and dyed hues ...
...come spilling, seeking and vibrating.. The blues..

I do not know what is happening to my brain....!

My ugliness in form and figure is all they see.

My hunched back and unbearable eyes.

Nobody looks me there, in the eye.

Visions of myself falling from a tree limb, skirted and noosed, flicker in my mind

i'm feeling towards the end of despair

i'm not interested, unable, and hopeless

x.x

Misery, there it came

misery.. and awful pain

misery, embarrassing, unkind, 

misery.. has taken my mind.

Misery,  in my soul.

Misery, i have no hope, 

misery, I want to die. 

Misery, just sit and cry.

Misery, is a horrible game.  

Misery. 

Is my first name.  

Misery, till the very end. 

Misery, my only friend. 

Misery, into the wind, 

misery.. all over again.  

all over again

all over again

no more

  I give up my womb, not free to sow.

Of decades of plagues. 

And battered woes. 

I give up my womb, not free to sow.

No new pain, no fresh horror.. I give up my womb, not free to sow.

My motherly bone, picked from my soul, I give up my womb.. not free to sow.

The bathtub, the pillow, the pond and the tree.

how many tiny lives did she set free?

the battered woman, inside of me.  

how many times, did she tell me

of the generations past, so stiffled..unhappy..

from behind their crochet

from behind their milk tea

i can feel their eyes

staring at me

now through the window, and into the sea.. there they are wading with the bodies they keep

heavy on their shoulders and worn through their minds, how many times... oh, how many times.  

the vision i see, many women i can not be, baring fruit unwanted

I said, now.. watch it spoil in the sun.  Turn rotten and useless, fetid and wrong..

They forced her to do it.  She wanted to flee. 

But there she lie birthing.

another baby.  

I'm not well, but I'm Wellbutrin.

Vast amounts of mind garbage flew through this page.  Usually fueled by benders of sorts.  Time will go on and I won't even touch this space and now I can't sleep so I am back.

 I'm watching this movie called Powder Blue and just saw a transgender prostitute shoot himself after asking "Whose going to love me (something in Spanish)"

Long story short:  I feel that.

I've lost hope in thinking that anyone will find me worthwhile.  I don't have shit to offer anyone.   I don't even have credit, christ..  sometimes I get out of the house and I get drunk and I think "hey the doors of life are opening suddenly for me and a whole new world of shit is going to come flying in all golden gates, clouds rising and bubbles in the air!"  Then I realize that I am drunk and these people are just hung up on the same old people they've always been hung up on and tomorrow morning i'll be trying to start anew, finding myself.. on a whole new bender.. traveling space in my mind from the brink of my sofa and greasing the creative thought wheels by slicing out tiny portions of dim transmission that arrive to me in the late hours where i'm forever stumbling internally (. ah god..), forever wondering and surfing the great cosmic landscape that is all but one great human psyche ebbing and flowing.  It is a grand thing that some of us are driving cars and some of us are in bed for days and others are making music while some are painting pictures and then every so often someone goes ahead and tries to tie it all together all for the sake of keeping sane.. it all makes sense, it really does.. go make yourself a sandwich.

Emotionally Lost

Sometimes I think coming of age has to due with finding out the truth of ones self and those that surround them.  I never felt right in the past crowds but what about the crowds to come?  What about the circles that await and all the damage that could be done? Are we not forcibly taught to carry on and dismiss the dark feelings that come as a result of tragedy and humiliation, shame and disgust?  We are.  We are taught to plow forward and be reminded of no past ills, even though they swirl and hover around our skulls and in our skin we are taught to dismiss them, even though they never go away.

I found out that the love of my life thus far is planning to travel the United States with another girl.  My body feels hollow and my appetite is gone.  For right now this is buried above ground and i'm hoping, dying for a way out of the pain and abandon that I feel inside.  It is small and there are far worse things to endure.

David

David, saw you slither in.

David, made my den a sin.

David, all up on my skin.

David, set me on fire.

David, watch my torso blow,

Into a bloody stinking hole

and painful spot I wish would go in between two fiery gates...

VOID.

What land is our land

THEY SAY!

Is theirs?

THEY SAY!

How elementary they sound, when they say it.

The land they raped and took, the land they sought and pillaged and milked and scraped every corner, every vein they slit and watched run... dry..

How do I have an appreciation? How do I seek an education? Of the land that is theirs that was mine?

it all.

Nothing worse than the torment

and torture that comes with being small..

maybe worse is that you remember it all

no better than the punched hole in your bedroom wall

is the hole in in your torso

where you feel it all.

Of being little, and being small.

There was nothing worse than all of it all, running the block and a smashing down fall, the burning of sun and the rushing of blood and a stinging of pain and ohhhh just of it all, of being so small.

The backyard adventure, the under-the-sheet the ice cream bowl and the playtime mystique-

of being so small..

of being so small..

of being so helpless,

of feeling...

it,

all...

Dazzling Gleam

In her eyes you could see the bright dazzling gleam of candy wrappers and freshly bleached linens. Her teeth shined pearly white and there something almost terrifyingly beautiful about how pleated and clean pressed her skirt was, but she asked if she could sit down next to me, 5 minutes before Chemistry 210 started. That was so unbelievably odd and strange to me! Never did a girl this pretty want to talk to me in school! I was Joan, a girl that was considered plain, fairly square and studious. There wasn't anything "special" about me, people would say. Except for now, I suppose! Now that this girl was in my life perhaps things would start to change. All in a matter of seconds I imagined me and this girl shopping for clothes together, she would teach me how to apply makeup and how to be tan, sparkling, gorgeous and bright blonde just like her.

"Hi," she said, "My name is Pamela, Pamela Scott." she said with gleaming smile.

"Uhm.. H-Hello!" I managed to stutter, "I'm Joan Dietz.

There she was! Talking to me! Now my thoughts were spinning! I sat there with my large round puppy dog eyes admiring her eyes and her dazzling blonde bouffant hair all concluded into a buoyant blonde ponytail, fasted with a beautiful aquamarine ribbon to match her skirt...

"Well, I was just wondering if I could borrow a pencil, I seem to have left purse at home." she inquired, hastily.

"Oh! Sure thing! ", I said, each tiny word dripping with interest and desperation. I removed my backpack from my shoulders and rummaged through my things in frustration. There say Pamela Scott next to me, the friend of my every day dream. The friend of my dreams who take my pencil, a token of friendship and show me the ropes of being beautiful, blonde and social. Finally I had located a No. 2 worthy enough of Pamela's grip, but when my head returned to Pamela's attention I noticed she had already started a new conversation with another classmate!

"Uhm.. Pamela?" I said, timidly.

"Oh, hey. " Pamela turned her head to mine as I held out the No 2 with a shaky hand.

"Oh, thanks but I just got one Denise."

Pamela returned her attention to Denise, a popular girl in a red dress, and there it went, all my hopes and desires of the new girl siphoning me into a world I had always hoped to be in. A world where I was beautiful and envied, sparkling and dazzling and not plain! I didn't notice it but I had dropped the No 2 on the ground and I didn't care so I reached into my backpack and retrieved a sheet of loose leaf and a No 2 that had been almost devoured with teeth marks, and I began to write this story...

"In her eyes you could see the bright dazzling gleam...