hornets

I can’t listen to what they are saying as most of it is all fucking noise at this point. Turned into a zombie with no real feeling inside. The more I sit on things the more they build and turn into situations that will eventually blow up miles away from here.

When I come home at night I feel great
I am a happy man
I have never been depressed
I like making pretend I am depressed
Nothing has upset me, ever
People who are constantly depressed are weak
People who cry are weak
People who suffer from broken hearts are weak
People who are always in a shitty mood are weak
Everyone is weak
I am only afraid of two things
Hornets
and
Becoming one of them
They are all sketchy
Every word out of their mouth is a lie
Every word out of my mouth to them
It’s how I feel
They surround themselves with blankets
and
ugly people
Like a fool I sit around and wait
Like a typical moron
Again and again I’ll fall
Fall into routines
I will punch every one of these weak fucks into next year
Why they need to be
Why they need to be inside my head
I don’t want to know any of these fucks
I don’t want to see their faces
I don’t want them in my head
Stop saying their names
Stop hiding
And stop playing fucking games, all of you
I’m supposed to look to the sky and feel good
Not like this.

Mass

I will ruin and destroy every single one of these fucks that "put me here"

How Do They Sleep At Night?

One night a long time ago I died for a few minute or something like that. Whatever they said, passed out in the living room. This dude thought I was going to fuck his girlfriend (I was) and well, yeah I died for a couple of minutes.

That whole situation should have been some sort of indication, or what I see in the afternoon here. Early evening dinners in shitty chain restaurants and a husband stares into the distance while his wife eyes around the restaurant wondering how she lives such an empty existence with this man sitting across from here. The guy just ran out of something at one point, just gave up the fight and cashed in his Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders posters and Lone Ranger trading cards. The seven minute drive back to the house he listens to sports radio and she plays Tetris on her cell phone he gave her four years ago.



One night a long time ago I passed out and fell out of a car. Granted the car was parked, but still. I have a scar from this on my nose still. We were sitting in some car outside of a 7-11, probably as high as a kite. Up to nothing really.

I should have learned then that the more I sit around and don’t do a thing, the less I have to live. I guess I was making myself healthier a tiny bit at a time, but completely failing in every other aspect. Imagine a time when I thought of going out to do things all the time every night. Like maybe 19 years old telling jokes about who knows what. I would have been listening to The Jam or The Specials around that age. The whole world surrounded by rock and roll, no internet and books about dragons or Hitler.



I was rightfully paranoid when I entered the woods. I have been paranoid since I can’t remember when. Everything, nothing supernatural or anything like that. What you see though, on a daily basis. That stuff makes me paranoid and delusional. Any kind of hunch there is something scary and unsavory there, even the slightest little one, I am always right on about it. Even half asleep as they float around my head right before I trail off, I see them.



If this is all actually real and not just some cooked up movie I wrote in five months. If this is all some kind of elaborate plan eventually removed from my brain. If this is how it is from here on out I will truly lose faith in too many things to count on one hand. At least mirrors exist, they make me stronger and they definitely make them weaker. There is no possible way anyone is making eye contact with themselves in 2010.

Back From There

...? I have these visions when I fall in and out of sleep of me falling to my knees on a beach and someone without a face saying “Oh God, there is light pouring out of your pockets” and then I see it and black out. The person is terrified. I see the light though and it's intense. A big gray rocky beach with menacing cliffs and waves.

Sometimes, I sleepwalk and sometimes sleepwrite.

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“The Minute We Hit Kentucky”

Whatever it is I ever see in them

Whatever it is that ever takes control of me and my head when I am with them

It’s invisible and hopefully gone by the time I am five minutes out of town

I have never wanted to run away from a place and idea more than I do right now

I lie to myself and tell myself I enjoy this and enjoy that

I can yes myself to death when I know every single thing that goes on

I read and spy on these weak ass men and their fat scorned wives home alone every other night weeping into their coffee mug with the horse on it

Broken boned and broken willed

Relying on friends to pick them up and tell them how much he sucks

These poor dumb women have no idea

I sit on roofs and watch them all, sinners and people I should never rub shoulders with

I tempt myself to write songs and letters

I realize I never need any of that

I have eyes, ears, and a nose

I have a steady history of just being too nice for my own good

Getting shit on and whatever else the next morning

I can sit and lie about how I feel

That’s the only thing I can lie about really

I can’t put these elaborate stories together like women do

Well I can, I just don’t

I can tell them all that I am doing well and there’s nothing to worry about but really

I’ll never fully get to sleep tonight

I’m beyond any point of caring if I burn a trillion bridges from here to the next galaxy

I want to go home

Never come back to this fucking place my head is at again

When I truly wish bad luck upon my true enemies

The ones who got in my way

The ones who fucked me up from the other side of the world

When I wish pain with the power of a trillion suns upon them and their loved ones

I hope it comes quick and with a fury so intense they never smile again

Sign Language

(written a long time ago on Diaryland)

Sitting at home alone with John Lee Hooker on the stereo: You got your aftertaste of some cheap beer, and maybe a shot or two. You’ve smoked who knows how many cigarettes, and may have smoked pot, you can’t remember. “That phone hasn’t rang in 2 years” you think to yourself. Do you remember when she would wear that one thing you loved? She always had that one outfit that made you smile. That one outfit that also made you a little possessive too. You knew she looked good, and every guy in the world wanted to fuck your girl. She looked great in this outfit, the boys all noticed.. You were going home with her though. You couldn’t tell yourself this though. You couldn’t accept that she loved you, the guys looking at her were not obstacles. They were guys, with cocks in their pants. Yeah, they wanted to fuck your girlfriend, because of that outfit that you loved. The irony was unbearable for you. You sealed your own fate when you accepted her into your life. You knew you would never forget her. You knew it would end eventually, but you did nothing. You let it happen. Why was it so easy when it first ended? You thought it was going to be a breeze. “She left me, it’s okay, it was pretty much over anyway”. Is that really what you think though? Do you think it’s over? It’s not over, if it were truly over, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now like this. Remember what she looked like when she laughed at one of your jokes? Remember what she looked like when you would kiss her? Remember what she looked like when she was on top of you fucking you? Remember that? You can picture her as clear as the sky. You can see her face right in front of you. The few things that are vividly engraved in your head, among them, her face. There’s some guy out there memorizing that face right now. There’s some guy that is falling in love with that face she made when you were fucking her. You invented that face for her. She only made that face for you. It’s easy to think that she invented that whole look for you. There is a group of men out there right now that will enjoy that face she made. They’ll enjoy the way she looked at you after getting off you asking you “did you like that?”. It’s now 3AM, you’re still awake. “She’s probably in bed right now” you think to yourself. From 1AM to 3AM has been the hardest time for you. This is most likely when she has sex with the new guy. Unfortunately, that’s not true. Your girl is now having sex all night, long after you go to sleep. Hours after you fell asleep to some random Shannon Tweed movie on cable. She’s not safely in bed with nothing inside of her at 3AM, she’s getting ready to fuck this new guy again. She was tied down with you for so long, the sex got routine. She needs to get it out of her now, she needs to fuck this new guy like she’s never fucked before. She needs to stay up way later than you ever wanted to. She doesn’t mention you to the new guy, but she thinks about you. “He never used to fuck me like this”. She’s ready to try those things with this new guy she wouldn’t try with you. Maybe she’ll finally get around to trying ecstasy, something you never let her do. Now that you don’t have her hand, she will try ecstasy with this new guy. She didn’t think things weren’t working anymore between you. She wanted to fuck more men. She wanted to feel free. She wanted the option to stay out all night on a Friday night to fuck that guy she worked with she always told you about that made you jealous. She’s wanted to fuck that guy since the day she met him. All of her girlfriends knew this, they told her to go for it once “you get rid of your boyfriend” She fucked him 5 days after you two broke up. You broke up on a Monday, Friday night she was introducing the guy from work to her face. The face you thought she just made for you. While you had a lonely Friday night piece of pizza in your apartment with no music on, she was getting some drinks in her, and had already decided on Wednesday that she would fuck this guy from work. You’re home, late on a Friday night. A night out with the guys. Down to the bar, grab something to eat. Talk about science fiction and hardware tools, and football. She was at some bar in the city you would never go to with that guy from work. It’s been less than a week, and she’s already over you it seems. Why was she crying when she broke up with you then? Because she feels bad for you, she pities you, because she’s depressed she wasted all that time with you. She wasn’t crying with you, she was crying at you. Your tears will fill up a bathtub, her tears will fill up a Dixie cup. She’s not going to remember your phone number in three months. Imagine that, she’ll need to call you at one point to get something back from you, and she’ll have to look up your number. Her new friend may even drive her by to pick it up. What are you going to say to her when you finally see her? That first time you see her after she dumps you is always the worst. Your stomach fills up with butterflies and air. You were just getting used to eating solid food again when you had to run into her finally. You had to get yourself back into this. You thought you were starting to get over her when you ran into her. Sorry, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, she’s back in your head. Wow, she looks really good too. Are there any hickeys on her neck? Did she have sex last night? What happens if I touch her right now. You give her the hug. The “I miss you so fucking much” hug. This hug lasts 5 minutes or so, your hands are moving a whole lot more than hers. She keeps patting you on the back during the hug. You forgot the rule that if your lover ever hugs you and pats you on the back lightly, the relationship is over, done. This means “thanks for the hug, here you go” She’s giving you this hug right now, but you have no idea, you’re being overwhelmed with how amazing her body feels up against yours. You are being filled up with all of those emotions again. When this hug is over, that’s it, you’re in it again. You’re done for at least another month. More lonely kitchens, more lonely movies on the television. Shopping isn’t as fun as it was. It’s so fucking over the fat lady’s voice is hoarse by now. It’s been signed and filed away in some file cabinet somewhere. That hug may have been the last time you touched her, or it could have been the first in a series of relapses that you will experience over the next year or so. No girl is going to come around like her again. There’s no girl out there that can do what she did for me. What did she do for you? Your life is now being taken over by her. You got involved with her, and your prize is having her invade your emotions and head until you can’t stop it. You start up old habits, you fall apart, you cry more than you ever have. You’re scared to go home at night, you’re scared to check your voice mail. You are now more in love with her than you were when she was in love with you. Funny how things work out.


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