Separation of State

my cock and balls are calling for you
they long for your warm embrace
they want to be held and fondled
and smothered in your face

my cock and balls are yearning for you
burning to be in your mouth
as the saliva drips down from your lips
and lands on the stripped, stained, comforter of my bed
and all the while
you stare at me with those big doe eyes

my cock and balls want to be held
in your hands, in your warm loving smell
they want to be nuzzled between your legs
as we spoon on that forgotten cloud
until they can't take it anymore
my cock and balls,
they want to scream out loud

my cock and balls want some action
they want to be apart of your party
be apart of your sex
to bathe themselves in your juices
wiggle between those luscious thighs waiting for you to call them in

and crawl

my cock and balls don't care what you've done
what you've said
what you are
or what you claim to be
they merely want you to fuck them
and squeeze the juice from the tree on my trunk
onto your face, your chest, your back, and anywhere they can reach

my cock and balls don't care that you're
empty inside
as long as those juices continue to flow
my cock and balls will be there for you
but me,
my honesty
my longevity to you
it never won't

This Woman Named Denise

there was a woman i knew  once,
sometime last year
she moved away from here
to the Capital
to be  political.
whatever.
But this woman Denise
was an exception to my judgments about women in general.
I don't hate women
i've just seen time and time again
your repeated behavior
and while i could sit here
and point all of them out for you
i won't.
because that's just making it too easy for you
to correct yourself
i rather watch you slowly decline
like pulling the wings off a fly.
But i digress.
Denise,
ah yes,
she had these big round dark eyes
like an owl
and she'd sit across from me at breakfast
while we both drank coffee
and she read her newspaper
and i read my books
and i'd watch her peering at me
with those lovers eyes
over the edge of the paper
and it felt warm.
warmness is what we had between us.
she use to say to me,
"dame carinos papi"
and i'd rub the back of her head
and run my hands over her small sweet body.
Goddamn she was a good woman
sexy in so many ways,
smart, driven, appreciative, understanding, willing to ask for help, considerate,...
the list goes on and on
i was amazed at the time
because i was seeing her
and another girl (i didn't want to lapse when Denise left)
this other girl was dull
boring
unappreciative,
empty headed,
overly nice,
and demented.
i could go on, but i'll restrain myself.
(oh how i want to go on)
When Denise left
i said to her,
"You've screwed it all up now."
and she asked what?
"You're such a good woman that you've risen the bar for the others that will come after you, now i'm going to expect so much."
i kissed her goodbye
and i wrote her sometimes
i sent her a package filled with memories
and a cd.
i haven't heard from her in so long,
and i'm sure she has her own life
and i've got mine
but people like that
come across our paths
randomly
and seldom
you've just got to be ready
and keep your eyes open

Eating Meat off the Bone.

you stop looking around
and the ground sits still
but you lay your head on that soft grass
and the earth keeps on spinning
without you.
you stop looking around
and things make a little more sense in your square
things start to look great in that cube
but what can you do in here
in that box?
but play with rules
and distractions.
i feel that box closing in
and want to spread my arms out
to stop it
and i can
because i'm strong enough to figure it out
and not let that box
get the best of me
that's the point
is not letting your face
bleed into your mouth
and adrenaline taste nice
on these hot
quiet
dark nights
when nothing else can make you happy
but silence
and lack of humans
circling you like vultures.
saying "leave me alone"
makes them sad and cry
makes them think about where they screwed up
but not saying anything
that deep silence
only lets them say
"fuck him. lets leave"
and you do
and i get what you want
and so do you.
it's beautiful
isn't it?

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I do Believe it's Working My Dear

the room felt very warm then. The green walls melted together along with the yellow molding, it seemed like the walls were dripping but the temperature hadn't gone up. we sat there for a bit, she doing her thing, me with my hat drawn over my eyes, protecting me from the light, the light had a way of killing me; something in that thought process led me to the conclusion about life, and that in it's own made me feel like the top of my skull cracked a bit and the air rushed in, like a fresh knee scrape, but atop of my balding head.
      i thought of life clutter, the way to distract yourself from the reality that really is what is in front of you. You're alone, and the feeling of being alone and solitary isn't for everyone, it's a fear, like eating something that you're weary of putting in your body, and upon realizing this, a cold chill comes over your body and your mind melts into your skull, you feel that at any moment, you may have to run to the bathroom to throw up (if not out of your mouth, then out of your ass). it's a feeling that nobody every becomes fully content with. So to deviate from that fear, people tend to fill their life with little preoccupations that eventually take you away from what you really need to be doing, and that is to think about yourself as a person, your involvement in humanity, your participation in life (and others lives) and the actions (or reactions) you take in thought processing.
      distractions fill the life. You join a worthless fight. You join a gym. You start a blog (stupid of me i know) or you join a group of lost humanless people with the same problems. You become an empty person who fills their lives with worthless fights that don't change anything, because in the end, your voice doesn't really matter, no matter how loud you shout, or how many of you shout, the ones on top have the power, and your  push forward is all in vain, because they control, and every once and a while they let you steer, to give the perception of catharticism and involvement in their little game.
      i feel like the only true answer is to carve out a little space in this fucked up world that can make you happy. the less you have, the better off you are. Who needs Halloween decorations? who needs to carve an overpriced pumpkin that probably one of my cousins picked from a farm owned by a bank, paid a salary that's way lower than normal living, but he's forced to do so in an order to survive and carve out his own little space. The situation fucked, no matter how you look at it, but the key to true happiness is knowing that you're fucked, but figuring just how to work the system in your advantage. the true strength of a man (or a woman) depends on how little it takes for you to live and be happy. your brain can operate at a higher degree, but the less you have in front of you to take you away, the more you have in your skull to bring you home. If you don't have the internet, you're not forced to watch shitty videos on youtube about some dickhead hitting himself with a car, and if you don't have a TV, then you don't have to listen to morons like Glen Miller vainly ranting about being an american, when being an american is like being the last kid picked at a baseball game at the sandlot. If you don't have a phone, nobody calls you when their in trouble, but when thing are good, they'll show up to share a drink, share some food, or just drop by to say hello. If you take yourself away from all of this bullshit, then maybe, somehow, you'll have time to think about how your decisions effect other people who are in important in your life, and how even one of your little moves, can fuck up the jinga tower.
      in the end, you've got a choice, you can dream with the dreamers, or find a way to live in this shitty place full of constant bullshit, but still be happy knowing that you've somehow worked out a way to believe in something, love in someone, and treat the right ones right, and instead of treating the bad ones with hate, you just simply write them out of your life, because they will never learn, and constantly be distracted, and no matter what you do you'll never change them, but they'll forever live, in the blindness of shiny, fancy, table bottle service, ed hardy, vegetarian, save the plants, but fuck other people lives.

that in itself, is a life sentence to ignorance.
while your solidarity can only lead the mind to either insanity, or clarity.

a year and some change.

i think about you at night sometimes and smile,
i think about you at night sometimes and laugh,
i think about you sometimes and it gives me a hard on,
and i think about wanting to fuck you again,
but knowing i can't
so i don't.
but i still think about it.
i think about how much i hate you then.
about how horrible of a person you are,
and you don't even know it.
but i like you.
something.
i dunno.
it's not just sex.
or that's what i keep telling myself.
i think it was the way that you made me feel stupid
and oblivious
and made life more of an enjoyment
than a burden.
ignorance found its way
to strangle me
through you.
but i still think about you sometimes at night
and smile
and wonder
who.
just who.
is fucking you now?

Island for One,.... Please

and the day rolled on, over along the hills,
out through the dusty street
towards something bigger than her or i
or anyone before us,
the day rolled on
the doors were all closed for us, 
it was the end of summer
and then i could see the icicles forming
icecaps over mainland
as the drunks crept into the bar
hunched over and dragging their sad feet
it was glorious to watch
and enormous to be inside 
of the four walls
with the beast half covered and foaming at the mouth
mad dogs roaming the pool table
fighting
and 
dying
all at the same time.
i saw no use in it as i slurped at my beer
and watched the perverts
the short skirts; legs opening wide atop stools
and every mans eyes were bigger
than his gut
bigger than him
or anything that he'll ever be
i felt the level lower 
glass clinking
heads hitting mahogany bar
bones crushing
bone machines running
throughout them
as more and more stumbled through the doors
until finally the bar was flowing wildly with madness
and laughter
they were all awake now
roaming the bar back and forth
slurping and sucking at their beers
their cheap scotch
and whiskey drinking fiends
i stepped out to smoke in the fading sun
and a chill blew through me
the bouncer was in the recessed doorway of the offices next door
and my nostrils caught the hint of herb 
he leaned out
to take a survey of his surroundings
and motioned me over
handed me the piece
and i inhaled as deep as i could let myself
i held it there for a moment
and he smiled at me
that knowing smile that i'm all too familiar with
when a girl likes me and smiles
when my father drops some knowledge
and i know what he means
and he smiles
when i follow the patterns in life
and smile
we all smiled then
and i stood in the glory of that moment
to be alive
and know that 
i meant nothing on this earth
and no one would ever remember me
and i could never be something important
and i could never love someone completely
and i could never be a great writer
or a great person
because i was human
and that alone
was a fault
but i felt good knowing these things
because it set me free to play
in this playground
it was great to watch
and astonishing to be apart of
i smiled inside
but kept the cold face
around these bastards
one sign of kindness
and they'll drag you out back
beat you to shit
and steal your shoes
your wallet
and the shirt off your back.

Chucks Night Out

Chuck shuts the engine of the car off and sits in the dark for awhile, only the glow from the tip of his cigarette breaking the night. The music is soft and there for background, as he flips the cap of his lighter back and forth, with quick snaps, as if when it shuts, the thought he is working on will finally answer itself. but it doesn't and he continues to sit there in the dark, wondering just what it was about this woman that will not let him move forward. he found a way to deal, and then suddenly, he backslid right into her palms.

the sounds from outside drown out, and he lights another cigarette with the burning edge of the old one. the smoke goes down his throat in large gulps and his mouth taste bitter. he slurps at the beer bottle to get rid of that repulsive taste and continues on with his thought. he's always been a man of absolutes, and while he knows that his body only wants to have sex with the woman, his mind knows that this will lead him down a deeper and further decline than the last time he laid with her. He knows that she is not the one for him in any capacity, mentally or physically, they are two completely different people, but in the dark, rolling around on the bed, unhinging the bed cover and tangling themselves in the blankets every-which-way, there is a passion there, for what he is not sure of, but something ignited inside of him, and he finally realizes what it was.

Chuck's parents were the solitary kind. They rarely laughed, talked, or went out as a family. His mother was always off doing her own thing and his father was never around. This produced a Chuck that was looking for affection at first, during his young age, but now wanted affection from a woman since he could no longer obtain it from his mother. Chuck went through numerous romances, all ending horribly, and all being mostly his fault, for expecting a woman to embrace him at night, the way his mother never did. It was horrible to think of this for Chuck, and he was riddled with sadness and an overbearing amount of self loathing. But in order to make strides in life, one must be able to go down to the madness of your own soul and figure out why you are horrible to begin with. only then can you become something greater than the shit stain of life, Chuck thought to himself.

He seeked validity from this woman, and she rarely gave it to him, and while she may have not known just how much she was fucking with Chucks head, he always seemed to first laugh and dismiss it, then wallow in it, and finally resent her for not being what he needed. That's selfish of me, thought Chuck, to expect her to be something i want. He took another slug from the beer and flicked his lighter some more.

So now he understood why he wanted this woman. He wanted to fuck her, hard, and slow, then hard again, and eventually spew on her inner thigh or chest, but that was what his body wanted. His mind validated this by making him feel tenderness and affection from her (when she was willing to give it to him; (which was rarely). Chuck knew what he had to do. And that was nothing. He could not do anything. He could not tell the woman his new discovery, and neither could he ever sleep with her again. This saddened him, because inside, he did have a spot for her, but she was a square peg, and the spot, well, you know the story reader, the spot was a round hole not meant for her.

Chuck felt better about himself for taking the time to work out the thought, and finished off his beer, tossing it in the numerous open trashcans scattered across the street. As he walked towards his apartment, the air felt a little crisper, and his steps felt lighter. He was not drunk. He had controlled his drinking. a possum hissed at him from across the street and he ran up his stairs leading onto the landing. The keys fit the door, chuck kicked it open and felt the warm comfort of home. He went into the bathroom and slowly undressed, watching himself in the mirror with the light beaming in from the neighbors apartment across the way. He entered his room, naked, and slid under the sheets. Chuck wrapped his arms around Maggie, and she slowly awoke. He was glad he knew that the other woman was bad. And Maggie, while not being completely good, and probably also as bad as the other woman, was a fresh wound for him. He smiled lightly and knew that this too would end in disaster, but this time, yes, this time, he was prepared.

BluePrint

I'm not playing with you,
I'm not playing with you,
I'm not playing with you,
I clean forgot how to play.
But you can still come around,
In fact I invite you down,
Maybe together we can wipe that smile off your face.
'Cause what a difference, what a difference, what a difference
A little difference would make.
We'll draw a blueprint, it must be easy,
It's just a matter of knowing when to say no or yes.
Frustrating, frustrating, always waiting for the bigger axe to fall.
A patient game that i can't find my way to play.
Never mind what's been selling,
It's what you're buying
and receiving undefined


-Fugazi