"Stop, thief"

Looking at old pictures of yourself from when you were young is tough sometimes. Well, tough to imagine “what was I thinking?” I can’t imagine what my voice sounded like, what I acted like and that kind of thing. The thought of going back in time and watching myself is beyond horrifying. Every once in a while you will see a video of yourself and feel strange. Nowadays though, every last fucking thing recorded on the internet, thoughts, pictures, opinions. What will it all eventually mean? I guess you can just not be one of these people. I am this guy like 26 hours a day. I need to move out of it. I need to get away. Life in real time though, it is so plain right now writing about it and photographing it all feels like the right thing to do. Sometimes when I run into people from my way past and talk to them I realize all that passed time did nothing really. The only thing it really did was make it harder to talk about anything beyond small talk. At any rate, I look back from old pictures and think fondly of certain times in life. Most of the time though, I’m not one of these nostalgic fucks unless I start to feel old. Seems like so many people developed opinions and tastes early on and never advanced them. Thankfully I am able to avoid these people, but some of them show up on your social networking pages and you can watch them and their boring ass existence tell the same stories they told you in 1988. There are the friends that moved on, left Massachusetts and made something better happen to their lives. I admire these folks. I read what they have to say and they are always fresh and slightly different than before.


“San Leandro, CA - Summer of 2011”

Not the way I want to come across really,
I am going to blow my brains all over them
The social skills of a group of blind, dumb and deaf children
What are you talking about?
I tell you what I’m talking about
All of them
Look at them bicker and accuse
Try and fail
Judge and opine
Our most common trait is the color of blood
Yet it’s assumed I eat the same foods and drink the same wine
I smashed every last fucking thing in here tonight
I smashed every fucking reminder that I’m civil when I go outside
I think about it, them, etc and turn to fire
I turn to fire late at night for inspiration
I turn to strangers and try to move them somewhere else
I want them to think worse of me than they probably do
They see me and think I am someone else anyway
I see them and know exactly who they are
The subjects of lies of omission
Their disgusted scorned wives and husbands and boyfriends and girlfriends awake all night
They go out with eyes like caterpillars
Creeping all over whoever your favorite person in the world is
Standing at green lights in front of your car
Standing in line in front of you at the bank
Weak and full of shit
I see them and who they avoid
They can’t look you in the eye
They lack any kind of soul
They lack any kind of passion or truth
I watch them and want them to fail miserably
Watch their scorned better halves drag them through the mud and fire
Men in expensive suits sucking blood and cum from every single angle
Their crooked handshakes are gestures empty of anything
Gifts given to pay people off
They think they have some sort of handle on me
Watching me from all sorts of places
Towns I’ve never heard of
Places I will never go
I monitor them more though
I always need to learn and see
I spend so much time being this loser that I end up winning
In the end when I burn every last house down
When I put this sword through the chest of every fuck that ever got in the way
I’ll feel free then
I’ll sleep more than two hours in a night
I’ll move on to a better place
Where I am now
A labyrinth of emotions and feelings
A roller coaster that drags others behind it’s cars
I speed around up and down
I hope they just all jump off at some point
I don’t need any of them
I don’t need any of it
Wait, do I?



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When I think of this girl and how she makes me feel in person. It’s different than over the phone or on a computer. It’s the reality of her eyes and face and smile and the color blue and how she eats and speaks to me. All of these things, they arrive in dreams at night. My brief journey into slumber is often visited by how I see her. On the shore carrying her stuff for the day. Walking upright and poised so I feel intimidated with her. No way any loser could stand here where I am. What have I done right? Said and written the correct things? What did the ones who came before do right and what did they do wrong? After every horrible thing that has come before this it really is hard to feel secure and all of that. I have been trying to do this day by day thing. Sure it works day by day, sometimes though, the month by month is hard. When I think of how close we felt the last time we saw each other. How I made her cry when I should have just said goodbye. How I drove home with so many memories in my head. Was like a California shaped dream filled with all of the amazing times we spent. I’d never trade them or regret anything no matter what happens. On that burning crisp shore we often stood, not the exact places she wanted to show me but her efforts and eyes always make me melt so I can’t ever say no. Whatever fate awaits me I really hope I can always think of that smile as something that melted me and not burned me.