The Story is in the Soil.

Tell me your secrets. And ask me your questions.

2009-03-30T19:20:00.000-07:00

Oh let's go back to the start.

Yellow lines dart away from me in my rear view mirror. Trees come at my window. Tears come to my lids.

Everyone's past is the hardest thing to get over. It comes back to you at night with a simple flutter of an eyelash. A simple twitch of the fingers. Time doesn't heal all. Sometimes it corrodes you, it eats away at your flesh until there's no outer layer. Nothing to protect you. Now every little, minuscule thing tears at you. Rips you wide open for the world to prod at and trample on.

Welcome.

My words have no flowers in them, no. Oh no, no flowers today.

I'll take you back to the start...

Eyes on Fire

2009-02-15T17:40:00.000-08:00

I've come to the conclusion that Valentines day is a very inconsiderate holiday. Sure, it's great if you love to get caught up in all the hype and you have someone you love that loves to get caught up as well; but what about the others? The ones who don't have anyone to celebrate with? We're jipped and jaded. There's not a day in our year that celebrates being single.

This is not an entry with flowery words or metaphorical sentences. My apologies.

Land Locked Blues

2008-12-28T15:57:00.000-08:00

It amazes me how things that are supposed to make me feel better, actually make me feel worse. It's almost like I'm living under a microscope and everything I do or feel is magnified.

It amazes me how the people living around me can be such excellent people, without falter. And I, living amongst them, manages to obliterate any good thing that comes my way.

It amazes me how many times I've lied to myself, saying that this was it. This was the end. Then continue to waltz down my destructive path. Waltzing.

It amazes me how another opportunity to escape presents itself, right when it feels like I'm about to hit bottom. The universe will never let me hit it. Sometimes I believe that's the only way to find relief.

This opportunity, I'm considering it my last. Better late than never, right?

Road to Joy.

2008-11-29T09:54:00.000-08:00

The ones you care about most will always let you down the hardest. My teeth collide with the curb as your words hit my ears and swim inside my brain fluid, corroding it.

No one ever plans to sleep out in the gutter, sometimes that's just the most comfortable place.

It Always Steals Away.

2008-11-28T09:30:00.000-08:00

We become more complex with time. Simplicity escapes us as soon as it can. For some I hope it stays.

Lay Low

2008-11-25T19:47:00.000-08:00

Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold.
Eight.

Black Cab.

2008-11-25T18:46:00.000-08:00

What is this constant ache?

So wrap me in your marrow, and stuff me in your bones.

2008-11-23T09:06:00.000-08:00

The serenity of solitude has slowly turned into the sickness of solitude that slides in through my skin. The weight of a hundred seconds turns my head. The strain of a day curls my fingers. Reminders plant themselves along my path like bombshells planting themselves in my brain stem. Washers for sale on the side of the road without their dryers. Eating peanut butter sandwiches. Eraserless pencils. Left shoes without the right.
So I spend my days listening; to music that rips my ears off their hinges.
So I spend my days watching; movies that tear me from inside out.
So I spend my days reading; books that turn my eyeballs to mush.
So I spend my days cleaning; unconsciously searching for the second: the solution.

We'll Give Ourselves New Names

2008-11-17T18:29:00.000-08:00

Ink stained fingers and a love stained heart pleasantly plague me tonight.
My lack of accomplishment of simple tasks such as el boligrafo esta aqui is the most of my worries.
Radiohead echoes from behind the mesh as I purse my lips, trying to mimic the words.
The moment, in the moment is real. The moment, in this moment is true.
It's real and true.
I'd like to share it with you.

Ice Monster

2008-11-16T15:43:00.000-08:00

You have such an abundance of ignorance and it's beginning to seep out of your eyelids, down the bridge of your nose, and onto the once pure undergrowth. You have such a depletion of consideration, your lips are crumbling to dust and your fingernails are curling beneath your cuticles.
Maybe your concern for such things as the bottle and the bowl will eventually drown you then smother you in your own sins.
Seems as if I must result to scraping your scum off the bottom of my boots.
Your pathetic excuse for a brain doesn't function to average ability. If it did, you'd catch this hint, just like an AIDS infested whore catches a cold.

Lovers Who Uncover

2008-11-15T21:35:00.000-08:00

I'm turning over a new leaf.
My crumpled, browning one is getting whisked away in the November wind.
I'm anticipating this bud I have at my fingertips. It trembles with excitement while I breathe to feed it's glory. It's enticing in every aspect of its being.

In relation to you; you're in relation. Improper uses of semi-colons and feelings are my specialty. Improper uses of actions is yours. Congratulations in failing life.

Third, foremost, and sore most, exhaustion seeps through my marrow. I need something to send pulses to my ligaments and tendons and create a new growth inside my mind.

Touch Me I'm Going to Scream

2008-11-02T17:59:00.000-08:00

As I cautiously avoid your name on my page, I glance again and again at that picture frame. With its scratches, chips, nicks and bumps, it's characteristics create history and charm. Could it be true that even though many pictures of many faces may pass through it, the picture of the face that was there first is the most important?
I apologize if these ramblings aren't creating anything coherent. Although I know one thing, and that is that I'm missing it. Unfortunately missing it.

I need to follow your example. I need to buy a new frame, and fill its corners with pictures of new faces. A frame with no scratches, chips, nicks, or bumps. A frame with no existent history, no charm. A frame that we have to build the personality for. I need to build.

Just Because I'm Losing, Doesn't Mean I'm Lost

2008-10-21T18:31:00.000-07:00

Brush the dirt off our knees, there's plenty where we're going. Dunk your head with me and be born again into this spectrum of dust and delirium. With my head full of bottle caps and bones and your fist full of candy wrappers and stones, together we're only half of one whole. Dozens of states separate our fingernails and millions of miles divide our eyelashes. We are continuing to keep away from our hideouts and stashes just for the purpose of saving ourselves from painful bashes.
I'm still losing, but still not lost.

Endless Revolutions of Glass

2008-10-16T18:19:00.000-07:00

A breath catches and shudders in my throat. My neck cracks in anticipation. A few physical signs of the stress pounding on my brain. Banging their deadly drums until the skin breaks and splits into slivers of useless, filthy remnants.

Your thoughts have become a revolving door; constantly allowing things in and out.
Is it out with the bad, in with the new?
In your case, it's more so out with the good, in with the bad.

Soon, I will jam your door and stop these insisting thoughts. Cease the bad from entering. I only hope your mind isn't already overwhelmingly corrupted.

The Age of the Understatement.

2008-10-13T12:36:00.000-07:00

It comes creeping up on you, like running from a sunrise. It slithers around the marrow in your bones until they crack, split, and fracture into microscopic fragments.
Resistance is only the enemy, to bypass and withstand is heroic. This age is understated to an extent so incredible you'll die.
It does turns inside me, as if it's a ballerina in my pocket.
Interpretation is a privilege so let your eyes fry with me.