The fine,
young,
frenzied,
feat.
Filled faerie land,
with fluff.
Mi madre,
must,
make,
more,
mush.
While we bicker,
banter,
and spat.
The hell with all this trash.
I wither and want,
but nothing transitions from something.
Do you know the candy flute man?
The way his randy tricks lure,
allure,
asphyxiate?
It's prime time,
to unwind.
I have a date with the devil.
We're to go bowling with a pocket full of moonshine.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Dear Friend
Dear Friend,
I am writing to you from my fathers cabin up north. I have isolated myself from the public and taken this time to reflect on personal demons and inner dwelling. I've thought of it as my own personal quest, or Buddhist experience.
Every morning I sleep until 4 A.M, swim naked in the lake, and smoke two cigarettes with my black coffee. I read Brett Easton Ellis while on the can, then heat up a bowl of Irish oatmeal, no sugar, no cream.
My afternoons are spent staring out into the wilderness from my front porch, drawing, sketching or even writing, which I do now.
Often times I find myself getting so lost in my own thoughts and nature that when I snap to the sun is setting and I feel a grumble in my stomach.
People told me I'd be lonely, but actually I'm quite happy. The silence isn't lonely, it's gratifying. I feel at one with this place and can't imagine going back to the city.
No wonder the indigenous are such odd people. I've begun to see things from their perspective and it's a whole new world.
Tonight, I will prepare the last of my steak, prepared in an open fire pit in the backyard of this rustic surrounding.
Tomorrow I am supposed to return, but I've decided to stay, and slit my wrists in the bathtub.
Please don't worry. I have finally found peace. This isn't a cry for attention and I doubt anyone will find my body for a while but it's almost better that way.
Maybe my soul will inhabit this space and live forever, but the idea of seeing this utopia deteriorate like so many good things in this world starts to make me depressed.
So I bid you adieu.
No tears, only laughter.
I'll see you in the next life.
Ray
I am writing to you from my fathers cabin up north. I have isolated myself from the public and taken this time to reflect on personal demons and inner dwelling. I've thought of it as my own personal quest, or Buddhist experience.
Every morning I sleep until 4 A.M, swim naked in the lake, and smoke two cigarettes with my black coffee. I read Brett Easton Ellis while on the can, then heat up a bowl of Irish oatmeal, no sugar, no cream.
My afternoons are spent staring out into the wilderness from my front porch, drawing, sketching or even writing, which I do now.
Often times I find myself getting so lost in my own thoughts and nature that when I snap to the sun is setting and I feel a grumble in my stomach.
People told me I'd be lonely, but actually I'm quite happy. The silence isn't lonely, it's gratifying. I feel at one with this place and can't imagine going back to the city.
No wonder the indigenous are such odd people. I've begun to see things from their perspective and it's a whole new world.
Tonight, I will prepare the last of my steak, prepared in an open fire pit in the backyard of this rustic surrounding.
Tomorrow I am supposed to return, but I've decided to stay, and slit my wrists in the bathtub.
Please don't worry. I have finally found peace. This isn't a cry for attention and I doubt anyone will find my body for a while but it's almost better that way.
Maybe my soul will inhabit this space and live forever, but the idea of seeing this utopia deteriorate like so many good things in this world starts to make me depressed.
So I bid you adieu.
No tears, only laughter.
I'll see you in the next life.
Ray
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
What Do You Know About Me?
I look left, then I look right, before I jam my scissors down his throat. For all of the times he neglected me and pretended to be my friend, this has all but made up for his bull shit.
I drown out the struggling gurgle with my turntable turned to the highest level. The neighbors will think I'm practicing my set list again and undoubtedly call the landlord to complain, but by the time I end this assholes life I will have cleaned up the apartment immaculately and moved on with life.
Things didn't always seem this violent. We used to be roommates in the trendiest part of town. I was naive and quiet while he was out, loud, and proud. I never hurt a fly before, except for the occasional mosquito whose death always fascinated me. I loved watching the blood it had drained spatter across my skin and run down my arm. Sometimes the residue was minimal, but still, it was a sight.
Now this helpless maggot lie bleeding at my feet like a pig at the slaughter house begging for its life. I didn't find it disturbing at all.
Don't get me wrong, it was a sad sight, but something about his death empowered me.
Believe me, I'm not the kind of person to impulsively black out or lapse into a split personality. I'd say I'm rather healthy, fit, and normal.
As I got older I started to realize that there are two types of people. The type that step up, and the type that shut up.
I am neither.
I believe in a fair fight and if you're not going to back up your actions then you have to be stopped.
There are so many people in this world that spout lies, corruption, and misleading facts that taint a dreamers world. Instead of putting up with how shitty things are, I have solemnly sworn to better it.
There's nothing worse than empty promises.
Before you lash your hateful tongue on others because they speak their opinions, let them express themselves then express back.
In this kids case, he was a spiteful little shit who fell into negativity. He literally had nothing good to say and with that I rid him of his hateful existence.
Really, he's better off.
There will always be another one just like him, but in praise of the homicidal handbook, there is a distinguished guideline outlining the type of people you can kill and can't.
Lucky for me, this asshole fit the bill for the entire checklist.
R.I.P
JDC
May your eternal agony be put at ease.
Damn, I got some blood on my shirt...
I drown out the struggling gurgle with my turntable turned to the highest level. The neighbors will think I'm practicing my set list again and undoubtedly call the landlord to complain, but by the time I end this assholes life I will have cleaned up the apartment immaculately and moved on with life.
Things didn't always seem this violent. We used to be roommates in the trendiest part of town. I was naive and quiet while he was out, loud, and proud. I never hurt a fly before, except for the occasional mosquito whose death always fascinated me. I loved watching the blood it had drained spatter across my skin and run down my arm. Sometimes the residue was minimal, but still, it was a sight.
Now this helpless maggot lie bleeding at my feet like a pig at the slaughter house begging for its life. I didn't find it disturbing at all.
Don't get me wrong, it was a sad sight, but something about his death empowered me.
Believe me, I'm not the kind of person to impulsively black out or lapse into a split personality. I'd say I'm rather healthy, fit, and normal.
As I got older I started to realize that there are two types of people. The type that step up, and the type that shut up.
I am neither.
I believe in a fair fight and if you're not going to back up your actions then you have to be stopped.
There are so many people in this world that spout lies, corruption, and misleading facts that taint a dreamers world. Instead of putting up with how shitty things are, I have solemnly sworn to better it.
There's nothing worse than empty promises.
Before you lash your hateful tongue on others because they speak their opinions, let them express themselves then express back.
In this kids case, he was a spiteful little shit who fell into negativity. He literally had nothing good to say and with that I rid him of his hateful existence.
Really, he's better off.
There will always be another one just like him, but in praise of the homicidal handbook, there is a distinguished guideline outlining the type of people you can kill and can't.
Lucky for me, this asshole fit the bill for the entire checklist.
R.I.P
JDC
May your eternal agony be put at ease.
Damn, I got some blood on my shirt...
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