the truth the truth is never to be had
the truth the truth what a dying fad
teh truth teh trouth oh when things fall apart
teh trooth de trouf shit goes down and the ebb and wane
and thing s dont sufrter remamebmer to rhyme and then
the sthi t jus goe s t down hill and is never to be had.

worstword ho! hoy solo quiero silencio
pop tunes fill my ears and tengo un momento de calma
but then i remember that i dont know what the heck
is going on ever and ever in my head and out and i dont
know how im going to continue keeping you under my thumb
passively as one might say but actively if need be no se porque
no need no feed much greed the greed of a steed searching for a proper
stable.
fuck you and the inverse reside together harmoniously
like the skull yin yang tattoo i once thought i would harbor
and boy would that have tickled your fancy while plucking your ire

I wrote this short short story for the Afictionados!

The score was settled, and that’s when I got angry. That was the first time I felt the ire and the rage and the cold sweat collecting in every uncomfortable spot I never knew existed. The itchy anxiety clawed at my forearms, and I finally understood what that stupid, whiny Dashboard song was all about, except there was no blood flowing to my fingers. It had all pooled in my temples and was swelling up my eyeballs so that their color matched the fury my tightly shut mouth bravely fought to keep at bay.
Mine had always so lightheartedly told me, “It is not love if it’s just behind closed doors,” and she’d whisper it to me as I fumbled with my belt in the dark. I can only imagine what their conversations had been. She told me about him in a crowded coffee shop, probably hoping to avoid much confrontation. That impersonal touch, however, only ignited the steam, and I could tell from her tense demeanor that she undoubtedly felt—physically felt—the hatred beaming from my eyes. She never seemed this frail, not even when I had confessed my wrongdoings. Then she had stayed indignant and coarse throughout, but now she had acquired a waifish submissiveness that petrified me with its sincerity. Millions of thoughts raced through my mind like a table of roulette, and I couldn’t decide on which memory to place my bet. Red or black, good or bad. The hugs or the slugs. What could one decide?
Finally the red-tinged environment around me cleared, and I realized I had been standing over her this whole time. I sat down. I crossed my arms, jiggled my leg and she noticed. She always does. She tried calmly to explain her motives. I understood at once, had always understood, that I had always been at fault. Of course those were not her words, nor were they the secret or subconscious intentions of her words. She actually explained how what she and I had lived through was simply tattooed on her skin, and she could not escape it, hard as she had tried. She had finally found in him someone to rival me in every aspect, surpass me in some, and it terrified her. The grief from the whole ordeal had left her with a noticeably darker face, and from her eyes were gone the wrinkles that would form during our incessant bouts of laughter.
She tried to stop my shaking leg, and I instinctively jerked it just out of reach. My wounds were fresh and needed nursing, the kind I could only provide by repeatedly hurting my aggressor; but in this dismal setting continuing to harass her still sore lesions seemed a lugubrious grasping at nothing. Again on instinct, my hand reached out toward the only comfort I knew.

you like to go back and read my old blogs sometimes. to remind yourself. to remind you of who i really am and why you hate me so much.

there's so much you want to tell me but you can never seem to find the words. so much.

you can finally say one thing: you will never forgive me. except you think youve already said that. you will never forgive me. you dont want revenge, it will never be had. you just want to be free from me is all. you dont want me anymore. damaged, used goods is what i is be at is. you can't help how you feel. sure, you love me, but... you're not sure anymore. so many things to think about, you can't possibly be expected to think of them all. no, of course not. you want to go to med school. you have to go.

sometimes you just wish you had some kind of reassurance from me. an "i mean well" or something. but you never will get it. you will never get anything from me you suppose. you gave up a long time ago really. it doesn't matter. tomorrow will be a better day you reckon. today was such an awful day. seeing me used to make it better, but yet.... bc mgjd's got a smile that could light up this whole town....

you hate your life. but i already knew that. you already know me. the minute i find someone else, i wont even look back until she leaves me. and then i'll be back. and maybe you'll cry, but don't hold my breath.

forgive me blogger for i have sinned. it has been nigh on a month since my last post. actually i tried to post on halloween but you wouldn't load my video so i said fuck the world. there's a lot going on underneath a veil of nothingness, and i dont mean my nothingness, i just mean calm winds. life moves downhill i think. also i suck at basketball, been losing too much. legs hurt. i'm not old yet but my coordination is lacking something. brb lol

*woahaoahaoa retroactive post*
what the where the helloise you been, los? i been away. far. far. a guey.

checkalos:
this year halloween fell on a weekday
me and coworkers was decoratin',
putting skeletons in clothes,
till the head fell off and broke some bones,
so we speeded up the pace,
put the doc in scrubs and set that skeleton in place.
we were gonna get in trouble no doubt,
so i left and let the coog get caught.
the deco’s were going down we reckoned,
but the boss made a decision in three seconds,
so that our scary stuff we could keep,
we just had to move it six or seven feet,
so we moved around on him,
dropping spiders and bones on him,
the more we moved the more the webs grew
then our job was done, and our fun was done, too!
then I felt just like a creep,
and this feeling wouldn’t even let me sleep.
It was awesome as hell in that cube,
my hands were all bloody from putting up blood stains.
Aw man, buddy, that cube is so damn scary.


sorry i can't get the video to load properly.

why has 2009 been such a low posting year? oh right, that.

I've posted part of this poem before, but here's the whole thing. I dont know why I like it so much. Yeah I do, but I'll never tell. Impossible to tell, what the fuck loscar you can't just quote Pinsky when you're posting Bukowski. You mad stupid. anyway enjoy, my 2 lectors:

I'm in Love

she's young, she said,
but look at me,
I have pretty ankles,
and look at my wrists, I have pretty
wrists
o my god,
I thought it was all working,
and now it's her again,
every time she phones you go crazy,
you told me it was over
you told me it was finished,
listen, I've lived long enough to become a
good woman,
why do you need a bad woman?
you need to be tortured, don't you?
you think life is rotten if somebody treats you
rotten it all fits,
doesn't it?
tell me, is that it? do you want to be treated like a
piece of shit?
and my son, my son was going to meet you.
I told my son
and I dropped all my lovers.
I stood up in a cafe and screamed
I'M IN LOVE,
and now you've made a fool of me. . .
I'm sorry, I said, I'm really sorry.
hold me, she said, will you please hold me?
I've never been in one of these things before, I said,
these triangles. . .
she got up and lit a cigarette, she was trembling all
over.she paced up and down,wild and crazy.she had
a small body.her arms were thin,very thin and when
she screamed and started beating me I held her
wrists and then I got it through the eyes:hatred,
centuries deep and true.I was wrong and graceless and
sick.all the things I had learned had been wasted.
there was no creature living as foul as I
and all my poems were
false