I had a friend who changed his name
but couldn't change himself.
Never quite figured out
how to do with what life had dealt.
He put a needle in his arm
to calm his handsome hell.
who would have imagined it could've worked out so well?
Now he's a shape that moves like echoes through my empty room.
And there's a voice that speaks like someone's right behind me.
I turned around and found exactly what you would expect.
Clothes I left on my floor.
The papers piled on my desk.

Face full of fickled fucked Forest faces

After a few days of really cleaning my head out...the human scull hisses when broken....
i went walking tonight a bright light of blood pumping converstaions in the right directions.
i walked to the trees they were everywhere with faces they moved as i moved. but only in the darkness
they were not scray only told me that things move sometime when they move something different comes something beautiful....
dumbest blog ever im so fucking tired i might shoot myself.........

im okay i took a deep breath today.
I'm okay

We are accidents waiting to happen

I have a firm faith in God at least my own concept of her.
The Tao speaks of her in everything...
Somedays I find it hard to think that anything is planned though
like everything is accidental and noone is at fault for the bad things that happen in our lives
or that happen to our loved ones. Maybe we are all just accidents waiting to happen.
My brain always reassures me though and those accidents are beautiful when we look back like
a picture made from a thousand smaller pictures.

--where did the big dreams go?--hello to the rocks in my shoes

when men open doors and walk into the rain at

3 a.m.
like apes trying relocate their last stool
when sleep wants to kill itself
and somebody richer than you
mounts a machine gun upon his roof
to at you as you search
garbage cans
I say,
--hello to rocks in the sun
--how long does love stay green?

as your heart lies next to a dead chicken
outside of a liquor store
as the pain screams in your cemetary bones
I say,
--where did the big dreams go?
--hello to the rocks in my shoes

and i can buy a rifle for ten dollars and
the collected works of Karl Marx
and a loaf of bread runs with ants
and they'll find me snoring on the road to
somewhere else I've been dreaming of
and mistake me for a snake
I'll say,
--you can fuck with me
--just leave me my ribs.

its cold out here

i wrote this for a baby who is yet to be born
my first child hope that wounds not too warm
cause its cold out here and itll be quite a shock to feel this air to discover loss...
so i would like to make some changes before you arrive
so when your new eyes meet mine they wont see no lies...
just love
just love

just a few more days till...

just a few more days till...i can sleep at home no floors...less of somethings though...
i am still blessed with a few great friends they know who they are...
love and gratitude

you know all thats come to this is everything we've deserved FUCKING BURNT BACON

I cant see anything but dog's asses and
mutilated twilights
I would like to venture foward
into optimistic hope                     
not only of human survival
but also the survival of human
thought and music and art and painting and
history,
but you know its like an inside tip I got
from an inside source:
I see it all dragging down
turning to burnt bacon
I see my face in the crippled begging pennies from
crippled madman,--
anything conjured like that,--
it all goes down begging
down the twisting landslide
past the valleys
the condemned and zero laughter of
the audience waiting.

you know all thats come to this
is everything we've deserved

the dark is empty;
most of our heros have been
wrong.