It's been too long...

I can't remember the last time we had a conversation that was longer than two or three sentences. And I can't help but think back to the days when we would spend hours talking to each other, words that meant nothing but the sweet rumble of them tipping out of your mouth.

Now you have closed your heart to me, and I rip out my fingernails clawing at the door, trying to get back in.

I don't understand.

What did I do to drive you away?

Now I have to pester you to even be acknowledged, and I hate that.

I'm going to need you so much over the next wee while.

But I can't see you being there.

There's a shadow where that friendly face used to be.

How much longer does this have to go on?

You say that things haven't changed, but we both know this is a lie.

This power greater than everything has driven a wedge between us, driving us away from each other...

Because you have the courage, the desire, the need, the WILL to go where I cannot.

I cannot just run into God's arms, crying and begging for forgiveness.

Because I'm always the one left to pick up the stitches you pull out.

Sometimes it's more than just fear. I can't understand what they're saying. I can no longer listen.

I can no longer listen to you.

Struck with a hard blade I lie here bleeding. I can't

feel my heart beating I have tears in my eyes swelling I can't

love you

any more

you don't give me what I need

you cry on my shoulder and you think I can care?

I look away, pleading "help me!" in my eyes: unable to speak.

You invade my space and choke me and I can no longer hold on to this

fragile feeling...

my clumsy hands have broken it.

Maybe it's best if we don't see each other.

Let's face it, this was never what I wanted.. I've never been worthy of your attention...

No.

This is YOUR FAULT.

I can't be with someone who sees something that doesn't exist when they look into my eyes.

I can't have that.

I can't believe you came to this place tonight.

how dare you.

HOW FUCKING DARE YOU.

I thought it would be so easy to say.

A simple 'it's just not working' would have sufficed.

But for my damn sensitivity I would have done it.

I really need to get laid.

I guess I had resigned myself to being alone from the last time. I thought to myself : Never again.


But it always turns out this way and I'm already lost.


I have to find my own way home. But it's hard when there's nothing holding you back.

I'm so sick of having to lie to everyone.

But I have to keep this a secret. Not only for your sake.

I can't bear to let my family know how far I have really fallen.

I keep denying my name -

it's ok to hurt me but not ok for me to hurt anyone else.

I must learn to walk without crushing. I must learn to hurt without hurting.

All I need is someone to tell me it's alright for me to have this hatred. It's ok to carve myself up. It's ok to be me and to make the mistakes I have. But I can't find anyone who can do this.

Because they alll think it's wrong. They all think it's not okay. But I know it is because I know my own limits.

Well at least I tell myself that.

But again I can't tell if it's me or the things inside that scream in the name of God.

I can't bear to throw any of them out.

They've been part of my life for so long.. and I'm sick of feeling empty.

What to do when you are dead?

I reckon a great way to pass the time would just be to reach a state of zen...


But then again we all know how hard that is.

I'm sitting here and my stomach is churning.

I can't hear my own thoughts from the screaming, it never lets up. I cannot escape from this.



I say it again : I am sorry.

You suffocate me. I hate you. But even saying that is a lie because I know I love you.

But I cannot live with this dog at my heels.

I can hear it ripping at the door. It's whispering in my ear, telling me to hurt me, hurt them, hurt you.


And I listened. The slashes

they're leaking red down into the waistband of my jeans and I thank God that they are black, so the blood doesn't show up properly when I put them through for the wash.


I know I cannot keep this up.

But there's something eating away at me and I can't fight anymore.



I guess it has to be said. I can't be with you anymore. This is just making me sad and angry and I have never felt so free as when I'm not talking to you.

It's gotten to the stage I feel sick at the prospect of seeing you again.

This fucking anathema has rerouted the paths in my brain...


But there I go, making it my fault. But I know is IS my fault.

I can't say I'm sorry. But I also cannot say I don't feel regret. Either way my answer is a lie.

Sleep takes its hold with a sinking pull.

And now that I'm alone, this burst of lightfills my lids and

I'm awake to the songs of horror. Your ill-bought greatness, he's seen it all from

the frame.One day you'll reap the seeds of a shadowed past,

and I can only hope I'm there.You tried to satisfy the thirst

of a thousand ages,But built a stack of bones as your monument to dead

vanity.It's just a shrine to the words you use to wreck.

Tell me, How can you sleep?How can you just welcome the wine and throw out your nets?

You throw out your nets and set fame to bait the noose. Set fame to derail whats innocent.

Why spare the life of inglorious waste? Why let him live?

He's just hunting your own! How can you just sit there and watch?

"Because i love you more than you know. Look again and tell me what you see!"

In the window was me. The massacres were all me!

Oh God, please! Please! deliver the penalties for all of this from me.

I'm not finding justice, no warrant for mercy...don't give up on me. Don't give up on me!

What happens when I turn and run again? And again, and again?

"I will forgive you."And what happens when I lie to your face?

"I will forgive you."

Oh my God, I can be so defiant to some one who's arms stretch to me."I will forgive."Don't give up on me! Don't give up on me!

"I have forgiven you!"

I'll awake to new purpose to fight this body.No longer will I play the dark shepherd.

Let not my words be ripped from the throat of a horror.

Oh, forgiver! Where is justice in letting me live?

Yay! Another one that makes no sense!

My brain is built of paths and slides and ladders and lasers and I

have invited all of you to enter it's pavilion. My brain, as you enter,

will smell of tangerines and freshly baked vanilla..

hello.

my name is:

friend or foe?

A burning Lego Los Angeles.

control and the feeling of mastery.

The Apollo rocket designers and the NASA engineers of Houston and Sunnyvale grew up the 30's and 40's dreaming of

buck rogers

and the exoterrestrial meanderings of

Amazing stories.

When this aerospace generation grew old enough

they chose to make those dreams in METAL.

CHAMPAGNE URBANA CAMPAIGN!!

His parents were engineers:

but that wasn't enough to keep them together.

pull the wires from the wall.

There's only so far people can be pushed.

Recently a lot of very close friends of mine have started to change, and these changes seem irrevocable.

I can't see the appeal of these new people they are becoming, and I feel horrible for saying this. It's intolerably selfish to think this way, but I can't help but feel like I'm becoming so much flotsam to them, just something to be set aside.

After a while the world starts bleeding back and the cuts stay warm - so I fold myself around my belly, feel the comfort of the gashes and stop feeling so alone.

But I can't keep doing this. I look in the mirror at my flaccid belly, wobbling thighs

rendered with strawberry lines and wonder just how long this can continue before someone reaches out and grabs my hand with the scalpel and looks me in the face and tell me t0 stop...

Someone outside of this glass bubble I have built myself, that you all rise up around, like so much of a vacuum, and yet I can't see you

through this one way glass that I have branded onto my eyes.

What is it about teenage girls and talking about sex.

We've exhausted most of the alleys of conversation on this subject

but you haven't noticed. You continue on, a rotten construct consistently spewing out the same old verbal diaorrhea and I can't bear to listen anymore.

So I run away to quietly vomit, hoping that expelling this food inside my stomach will dispel the fear and hatred of you.

I love you so much, yet I'm so fucking angry that you're leaving me behind, yet aren't moving forward.

You wish to be so much older, you will not enjoy this part of your life, which makes me want to curl up and cry

Because I want so much to share this time with you but you're too busy discussing the merits of starting a brothel and selling your body for other people to hurt and violate.

You've gone wrong but I can't see a way to fix you, to give you back what we had...

For my birthday:

I want one of those keys you win in video games, that allows you to blast through walls and reach the next level -

to get to the other side.

I am Bill's machine

I may be the largest machine that will ever be built.

I may be the richest machine that will ever be built.

I may be the most powerful machine that will ever be built.

Raised with cheerios and station wagons.

Diagonal-slotted parking stalls of the mall.

Looking out of rge window, I see my city beside the sea, dreaming in aeroplanes and wood; metal and rock ballads... Better ways of living. Golden sun falling on this city that wanted for more: sailboats atop the golden water.

The challenge of newness.

Saturday morning cartoons recycling programs crying Indians.

You think you can live without me, but just try.

You desire images of a better tomorrow;

I feed you these images.

You dream of a world in which your ego will not dissolve.

I am the architect of the arena.

Reconsider your notions of what you think will rescue you from a future sterilised of progress.

I am Bill's machine.

If we were machines, we'd have the gift of being eternal and I want you to understand...

Q: what animal would you be if you were an animal?

A: you already are an animal...

Why lions are afraid of chairs.

I found the answer to something really cool.

Apparently the reason lion tamers brandish chairs while cracking the whip is because the lions are mesmerized by all four points of the chair's legs, but never all of them at the same time - their attention is continually distracted, and hence they are subdued.

Awesome.

The liquid engineers left the pool heater on too long, and at night, chlorine vapours rose above the plant life of the planet, and I imagined my flesh, being inside the pool, being warm, being protected, feeling gravity, but able to mock it as I floated.

Would you float with me now, if I asked you, would you jump in the pool and not even bother to strip? Could I strip you down, remove your clothing and we would fall inside the water together?

It scares me.

I don't want to lose you. I can't imagine feeling this strongly about anything or anybody ever again.

This was unexpected, my soul's connection with you.

You stole my loneliness,

no-one knows that I was wishing for you, a thief, to enter

my house of autonomy, that I had locked my doors but

my windows were open, hoping, but not believing,

you,

would enter.

Pixellated children.

I saw doves and I thought they were rocks, but they were only sleeping. My breath made them stir, and the rocks took flight, the earth exploding...

And my only thought was that I wanted you to see them, too.

The man from Whirlpool came to fix the washer today, and he found black widow spiders nesting underneath it's broken body...

And he showed me the web, and I found myself thinking of catching you, biting you, spinning you within my limbs and setting you free...

Don't tell me this isn't true.

Tell me you feel this fire.

Define random, Ezekiel!

SUBLIMINAL MESSAGING.

I am your personal computer.

Personal.

Stop.

Being.

Carbon.

FORMAT. REJECT.

Bourgeoise decaying images.

Flesh eating bacteria.

Crashed in a cornfield.

I AM AN EMPATH.

Locate the source of urges.

The past is a finite resource.

RUN

Multi user dungeon.

Starburst explosion.

We're just friends.

arms+armour+ammo+health

Fluids

RELENTLESS.

Two hundred years from now.

YES. With finger guns.

If there were two of you, who would win?

Jeffersonian Individualism:

Victim. Loser.

Winner. Thief.

We can no longer recreate the feeling of an era... of time being specific to one point in time.

The people were lying on the ground: 1992

DEMONISE The symbolic analysts, simulating the Tokyo power grid.

Uranium and Beethoven.

They left a dead escalator,

chewed and torn and lying

on the pavement like a dead grey candy necklace.

The rocket's burn. the best century ever. We were here. But now it's time to go.

Technology of MYTHIC strength given surrealistic applications.

Did the neutron bomb ever get made?

You may already have won.

Fail.

It reaches a point sometimes where all of it just gets too much.

What is this point? Is it predetermined? Something set in stone for us from the day we are born/created/knitted/whatever?

Then again this all ties into the idea of fate, and to me that's just so confusing -.-

Cup.

I saw a cup in my room this morning.

I wasn't aware that I had a cup in there.

I BLAME SUBLIMINAL MESSAGING.