Perfectly, peacefully floating

Some alcohol to distort, some coffee to stimulate, since heart buried elsewhere makes for a solo voyage.

If the world ends,

Then I can end

- the tortoise- slow pace of mastering Spanish.
- deciding to get my tubes tied.
- ever taking the GRE.

Lets hope the world ends.

I'm beginning to end...

This scribbling online...

Fragmented

I know miss the ease of typing. Typing faster than I can write, fluidity releasing my mind. Almost capturing how perfectly I sense it sounds in my head. The guttural fervor in hand writing. This touch screen typing doesn't create that sense of declaration. Its bare, uninvolved, or not involved enough, too much room for error in expression.

Scattered consideration

"Small and helpless."

"All the more reason to stay and help." The other voice replied.

"You do that."

System Reset

I can't be half me and half you. Every while, my brain configuration changes. Sometimes for the better, sometimes deteriorating. I bubble, bake, burst into a form of me. It used to be s bit of you entering the marrow, leaving vestiges in my nervous system. Now pieces of you are expelled, dwindling effect, system reset.

Wonder

Some people have it in them. I seem to just be amused, delighted to revel in my small cocoon of wonder, and here I'll stay, age, wrinkle, wither, waste....

Why cry?

There's just something in my DNA rotting. There had to be. How can i enjoy the crying that pronounces itself almost everyday, ebbing on the edge of my nerves everyday, gnawing on my anxieties. Then i give in and all subsidies.

Wavelength

He used to cling to her through the night, careful to keep her near, suck her wavelength. Now he remains on his back unmoving, stable, close enough to have that mystical distance to miss him.

The horror of reading fiction

It thrusts the mind to keep track and delve into another's mind/ experience. A part of the mind sidetracked, evaluating what comes next, submerged in the words rubbing the page that becomes more sacred than those around, more intoxicating to live a life between the pages. And as always mesmerized by the mind who wrote it all.

Through

My head has that dull ache tunneling through, building a home for ants to march through, for worms to slither through, where is the asprin?

I demand to know who took it!

Respite

To simply melt into incandescent slow cooked rest smothered under warm covers during frosty weather...

Insane :)

Personal renaissance

Building this emotional rampart, buried with old words and lost thoughts, those unalloyed and savored points

Its a patchwork I learned, stitched the vestiges into ... we'll see...

Resignation to small defeats

Just no great

Anything, anywhere, anytime

Nigh-night

Running on one cylinder

Goodnight

Forgetting

Looking through the brambles, nothing to whet energy and a direction to surge towards.

Seized

Sorta jutting out
Plaster on a glaze marring
A way to reverse or out

Now

Moving alone

Resigned

Weave magic

It doesn't exist.

Nothing has a true affect.

Current

Something shifted that I can't name. Or maybe something else that I can't distinguish or something fell away. Whatever the cause, it changed a current in my blood. That change smoothed my mind, like blending the smoothie of its lumps. So this is the new me.

Haruki Murakami

Switching gears
One mood mode experiment to another
Different synchronization needed for every few pages
That's called reading a book of short stories
Called having convo
An odd password, trail, DNA: a, b,1,6, i, 8, light, hill, juicy, ATM

no steady rationale

Lay in

I want a gentle rocking boat small enough to lay in swaddled in the water  gentle waves cradling

Non-rushed lingering and sweet delicate and deliberately

Depleted/Revived

Mood seem to go up down depleted revived no known source causing the disturbances

I'm starting to think I've become

fragile left wrist becomes easily strained everything gives me s stomach ache all i crave is water and words to entertain

Missing a place I've never been a guy i never met unable to function at my tempo i miss my erratic life beat its like someone finally shocked my heart into regularity

The daily tides more manageable to other subtle jarring dives and springs in elevation smoothed

Aging process laying out a thin layer of calm or maybe losing the nerve to push for more

        Cause in not more

Formula 1

Oh yes

       Back

Unfortunately

I miss you

don't take too much...

I'm in love with ellipses...

the might be continuing the perhaps the maybes the somehows...

its alluring to hope and fantasize to feel a comma between breaths that space between breaths something submissive in this breath waiting for that breath to say those words that ever alluring comma to become bright and shiny and real

...just like an ellipses to cling to maybe becoming continuing on

...

Psycho, you know that?

Just wanted to deliver a special headline ^_^

May have

This portal in time, this space of heaven
You are this fiction I'm in love with to comfort myself, the idea I mold into my personal haven, sanctuary, priest, and fellow sinner. It's mine. My homemade womb of delusion and warmth.

Its not for me

To feel helpless
To be untouched
Unharmed
By you by others by it all
Unscathed free of scarring

Somehow i wish for a reverse button to argue over trivial fuck and lead into some out of control period of time hidden buried and treasured. Someone demanding my action because something fucked up in me gets off on following your tender lead to keep in your graces. Why? Why am i incapacitated from cutting off blood to the parts of my mind you're nestled an ocean in, under whales and darkness, miles under the pressure, straining the energy to revive the feeling the person you had bubble to fruition...almost, barely, apenas...

Tempted lured by a violence and sweetness in that reaction stroking the embers to savor more of it not just waiting for it missing it holding back tears every twenty minutes

Old Songs

speed blood, push through

sound

I miss that feeling of being attached, of letting someone else make the decisions, deciding my actions if only to make the other happy, content, stable enough to continue. That's been slashed down and the past still remains, content to cradle that as a delicious aftertaste.

passing

just be...

remembered...

savored

Language Dichotomy

Mensa (Spanish)- one who makes unwise decisions

MENSA (English)- brilliantly intelligent

Member

Suddenly

Sudden

Red and able to

De
      Tach

Oops

Just empty

The small box

Looming

Nothing

My Sick Addiction

the wrong dose

Let's play a Game

Where I'm not here

              and you don't exist.

Go!

Delusions of Hope

Oh, didn't you know?



..............................................doesn't exist!

Old

trace the memory of wrinkles.
              here's to the years
         arguments, trips, and late nights

salud

Saudade

crystal, its absolute crystal

in describing
       missing that long distance
             immense immersion intensely
          sweetly awaiting to re-emerge
          always re-emerge

that's the talent, the gift,
  the anticipation built on, needed, fantasized, awaiting to be christened
     the walls, the rooms, the words of past convos
     imagined voice, imagined tone, imagined force,

rambling, re-fantasizing here in front of you, my own peep show on display

all these stray phrases leading to a central idea: I miss... 
  in a word
                 saudade

Voted

For delicious bite marks trailing
   Liquid slithering
      Contaminating, conquering

I voted for
    destruction of my mind for your amusement
  will for your sense of being
    sanity for you to feel secure
       darkness to feel immersed, hidden, unknown, undiscovered, ashamed...

Discontinued

Numb, moving, poked
No ideas left in this
Living the virus high

Approved

Shot nosed and eager for a downfall

Another daycare!

Storm

Terror shivering in my bones,  lacking the substance to not be affected, I guess I'm just a coward, worthless to withstand extreme stress, a ragged doll slapped into the sea

In a Terrible State

how is the mind capable of such terrible nightmares?

why do people have to be rude and put others down?

why is there disease, dishonesty, and war? 

why are there no simple solutions?

I miss already

Oh oh ok

Now now now

Again again again

Please please

Goodbye Austin

Baggage

Upset, happy, or composed
I still welcome and hope for the intrusion, the welcomed frustration of your mind

trying to conquer the conquest of compressing 
my life into small bags to move, drag with me

Swollen

Fizz and a rush is all

mixed with the cold front outside

the sweet, warming thunder

swollen spider bit

and a mind ready to float into inebriation 

Secretly Falling Apart

my life is becoming a tangle of cords
black cords stringing together a life

i realize my life is simply fragmented thoughts
strung together like a bunch of cords
becoming the chords of my theme song
                         a glitch here, a crescendo there

scattered parts, unlinked except named splinters of a whole

Crushed

The sweetness evaporated. Time failing to dispel the fallacies that grip and guide me, drag me along, seducing me farther down the rabbits hole. Hollowed out minus the illusions that have become the only internal compass grizzled in hope and someday with a cherry on top. This is the rope burn I remain high off of, enchanted by, fueled by. Functioning without this toxicity isn't an option, no alternative exists, no cure, no treatment. The trail along the Colorado River feeding the nervous system, sending a ripple of peace and eagerness into this rhythm. It that glorious mix of water drowning my mind with the current and that breeze sweeping me along. All of it installing me this sense of awe and anticipation.

Up since 2:49am

the recurring theme in my life, everyone has their personal myth, most decisions in my life laced in the thought of the mystery, awe, the tonic of energy and brightness...

Haiku 4

To curl up, warm and
safe, able to sleep deeply,
waking to ideas. 

Evidence No. 5

Somewhat in a state of awe, the sofa was comfortable enough and slept enough hours, minutes, seconds where I'm not even sure I slept just endured the haze between staying up all night high off the moment

sh

Dissolve into someone, that's what I crave

coming out on the other side a better me, lighter, happier, embraced

relieved to have a counterpart, counterpoise, linked

     cruSH

     craSH

   smaSH

     slaSH

Consumed

I miss that feeling

Neurotic, comsumed, motivated by passion, intensely aroused and alert, insanely flipping he switch between sunlit happy to mile deep in the well sad

I miss the power and energy it charged in my marrow, buried in my gut, electrified in my mind

Grey Matter

Is the Sexiest part

Stranger

I have no words.

I'm armed with...

                      A pile of clothes?
                                Two sheets of paper that define my role in the workplace?
                 An urge to move to a city? Move away? Run away?
                      

Let's go!

Its not for me

More cautiously allowing entrance

The snide comments, the judging remarks, the intrusive questions

                    Barred!

The thick repulsive poison they spew

And i too

            Need to  s t o p

Plucking

here I sit, plucking out parts of my life I can do without

...old papers,
                      clothes that don't fit,
                                                        lost bits of me

Finding an Ending

Sweetly, ever so sweetly, the bathtub water rose, licking up to my shoulders and knees, engulfing my sins, and I embraced the warmth, allowing my bleeding emotion swirl with the clarity. The perfection in the moment to finally feel I am where I need to be, supposed to be, meant to be. I wish you could feel this way, understand what I mean, have first hand experience in the delectable moment. I've never felt this body was mine, and I'm free of it, leaving it slowing, draining out of it. Letting go of the breath that has weighed me down.

Moscato

The same part of me disgusted by world is in awe of it.

This Awe

Please doctor, make this permanent
Tattoo this urge into my bone
Do it! Help me see through these rose colored
Lenses

Nothing hurts, it can't
Its like morphine, a thousand orgasms
Its everything and nothing
Bottle this awe

Sell it to me, violate me as payment
Please doctor, keep me this way
Oh...shock therapy? Ok, I'll do it
Please doctor

Excited!

Austin, I have loved you.
Seattle, you are soon to be violated.

Turbulence Reigns

With flashlights and lightening
Burst

Swallowed by uncertainty
Subtle and ready to pounce

^_^

One of my fav youtube comments: I cannot verbally express how fucking orgasmicly good this song is, anything I say is an understatement.

eyes sting, unwilling to sleep, endure the blindness of sleep
its that sadistic hiss wooing me away

please, stay awake with me

be high with me on the night's pulse, roam trails in the dark, walking silently
deliciously heartbroken by all I won't know, see, touch, smell, do,
    immeasurably heartbroken being next to you
                                                                            incomparable 

come on (tugs on your hand)

please

I want it all, the night, the ocean, the wind, the drink in the pulse, the urge, the high, the height

savagely alive, deprived, craving to chase the night, splitting 

strings raping the sound,
  immeasurably ready, aimed to shoot
                         stars

please come with me, the waves want you, to taste what it has been missing, see, not just me that adores, please, sink into the darkness, wander, float

radiant with energy,
        bottle up the mood, urge, anticipation for the unknown,
             sell it to me, (it holds me prisoner until the next visit)
I will buy it, pay in blood, sweat, tears, whatever you ask,
     make it breed in my marrow, that crescendo
immerse me it, drown me it,
                                              anything you ask

Alive

This morning the grey morning, cold front came to my doorstep

to teach me
that the drunk boy
   purging in the bathroom
   pleading for love
   trying to harness what was before
   aching to feel complete
         reenacting how I have been
       
look, the grey morning got me high
     coffee and music, wandering in subspace
      a temporary dislocated spine from brain
       linked

  the cold front to teach me to enjoy the warmth
the layers
    blankets, sweaters, sweet scented flames

see, the cold front teaching me 
  

Random 1

Ready for a change of pace, to become embalmed in a new city's pollution, wandering in awe.

Haiku 3

The world moves, and I
stand waiting for our lives to
fit again once more.

Shell

Hours, days, months, years I have spent waiting for you, luring you out of your shell, and yet...

Discard this Thought

I'm not trying to flee this place.
   Just find another wonderland.

I'm not trying to discard this old parts
   Just looking for new layers

I'm not ...
   I'm moving forward.

Moving On

I miss that hope, passion, intensity seething through me, spilling from me, bubbling within. Its not here. Its calmed to a mellow understanding that life isn't as grandiose as I once mistook it to be, remain.

That velvet kiss of unending anticipation that passion won't surrender to obligation, responsibility, and adluthood has blown out. (New light bulb please.)

Its gone.

New

I'm only interested in shedding to get to new skin,
digging to a deeper level,
           moving to higher ground,
    and whatever other cliches you can add.

Disgust

My upper back feel open, vulnerable, unable to stop the disgust invading my blood. People are selfish, hold themselves above regard for other, eager to see someone else fall, fail, shatter.

Whatever it is, I lack the armor to protect myself, fend off the assault, lame.

Shake, Shook, Shaken

There are just some that know your weakness, that have the x-ray vision for cracks, that have the all encompassing charm to seduce. To deduce. To wrap you in a comfort, a false comfort ready to fall.

There are those with the lush kindness that seeps in the skin. Too late when you realize its embedded in your skin, scarred you before you felt the wound.

There stands the ones that stab with selfishness, steal from others because they think they are entitled, expect to be worshipped for their deception, comforted when their trick slaps them in the face.

What am I?

Possibilities

You once were the impossible;
now I don't care what you make possible.

Atmosphere Residue

Sometimes I can't tell if I'm more in love with the world, at peace with fighting it, or heartbroken by it.

Haiku 2

Sown in the past with
anonymous perfection,
and I cling to it.

Haiku 1

you would explain that
you didn't need anything
while I craved giving

Evidence No. 10

    Of course, great sex and fun times should all lead to the disgusting possession called marriage. This was to be a wedding day. A civil union day actually. This was the great technicality of a girl having a girlfriend. She had awoken that morning to the sound of her heart roaring at a great speed with her breathing chasing after it. She looked at the body next to hers, which lacked any type of precision. The curves and mounds are tanned arms and face with the blotchy whiteness of a tummy, breasts, and feet. 

Evidence No. 19

so much for having any clear
       idea
stringent pauses
              a calm unwanted, for numerous
                   reasons
impartial to feel anything toward anyone
     some standard used and unweighed
cheat evolution of the theory
             culture extinguished

Evidence No. 9

relatively alert and semi-breathing

as according to all plans, someone must pay the price for a solitude existence, today just happens to be you. how unbearable it must be to continually be reaching about the thoughts of someone else's head than your own

Everything

Rich or poor, people need a relationship.

Well-off or not, some relationships have abuse, adultery, addiction.

Two or five figure income, people cling to one another, desperately need to feel understood, cared for, embraced, missed, belong, exacting in being loved.

In the end, the only life accomplishment I want to attain is a relationship I can be myself, be comfortable, be satisfied, not want to lose or fuck up. A certain kind of employment can only provide so much life fulfillment. I can help but want to end my life someday satisfied that I did love well.

Crush

I see the state name and it tastes vaguely of him. His name feels internally familiar. His imagined warmth a reminiscent comfort.
 
Limited in satisfying him and its mutual.


And yet, he is totally adorable, crave-able, entice-able. Describes himself as a jerk, when its that he isn't that sets him apart.

I tell myself (lies that) his weakness is to disguise himself, shield himself, mask his actions/words.

He's a pile of words, a broken record on repeat, an absolute standard written in textbooks.

He's the difference.

If Only...

     slightly, that subtle inebriation
warmth caressing my organs, sliding inside, swishing in tides
               staring at the ceiling, waiting for the lightening to
     strike
infiltrate my system, poison it with vicious passion, push the
  pistons to pulse, booming into billions of blossoms



infused with illumination...


working out to gain, gain, achieve, succeed
the organism smaller, emptier, alone, deprived smashing
      

Evidence No. 16

I want out of here. I asked, which got me shot down. A lump of pain has now arisen on the left side of my rib cage. That pang of rejection.

Under

     I hope you don't wake up. Looking at you, realizing, if you wake, one day I will fear you not waking.

     The mind tricks: I was just over the moon, delighted, and now all I can concentrate on is the sloth lava river steaming out of me with hiccups of viscera pulp gulps. Crude description fora crude sensation.

     that disheartening rumble requiring silence, demanding it by any means necessary, the delusion of being cared for, liked, embraced. The cunt sputtering phrase un- understood. Where is the quiet? The stillness of nothing? The limestone soul stuttering and gentle moisture?

11/16/09, Austin

Existence Exists

     Been thinking about what I would say to you for awhile now. Last week I went to sleep crying, crying for a long...from the grating pain of loneliness. A couple hours later, thought of you, through everything I like about you, felt soothed, able to sleep, told myself I would write you a letter to tell you all the things I think/thought of you.
     Today, I finally realized why I like people, the minimum component a person has to have in my eyes to be considered a decent person for me to spend time with: I have to admire the person in some way. A person I like, I have to admire in a million different ways, then another million things that make me feel comfortable to maintain my interest.
     What is wrong with me?! Why do I cry so easily? I guess knowing that I liked you so much and that nothing came of it...a loss. You're there, but you're not here. Your existence exists, but not here with me.
      Why do you honestly not open up to me? You have an opinion on what I say, a reaction, but you don't let me in. You want to know and have available every nook and crumb about me. It should be two-way access!

5/3/11, Austin

Fleeting

     Can a character be an emotional sucker? You know, leaping from body to body, inducing stoic-ness. You've seen it. Its that pause of someone losing their train of thought or gaze of one's eyes into nothing. Now you know, I exist. My presence has saved wars from starting that you don't know about because they never happened. You've also seen me before and mistaken a glimpse of me as a particle floating in your periphery. Say it: my existence is magnificent.
     One of the greatest sources of energy come from those addicted to listening to music as they conjure hopes and dreams, fantasies. The reason people do this as long is because I keep sucking out their aspiration, purged out of their minds into me, my essence. It's most invigorating.

5/25/08, Laredo

Edge

there's something in the dark. parameters
undefinable let streams of thoughts flow ridgeless
seemingly disguised as plausible dreams.

             first to understand with utter abadon
             and cherish in denial
to be part of this in any measure
                       stars don't examine anything for you, you
         examine the stars to learn something, conjure
  simply finding the capacity of a lie is fun
      enough
             the angular of which I don't remember
               infected roots leading to thoughts, squirm
ghastly sounds ring out, the deed is done

Party in my Dream

the music to dance though
     no one did as the sparkle
   of crystal waltzed about in fraudulent smile, "nice
to see you again"
   of all you fakes, that repugnant smell
sweat under a breast
                       smothered by a bra
            the slime seeping out their mouths
    inching its way into my system
         "STOP"

10/21/09, Austin

Based on an Actual Asshole!

     I've never been a fan of group interactions, so I sit, alone. Taking a break from reading, I absorb the people and pace around me. There's a girl, not exactly attractive, just ordinary. The guy seems to have a slightly crazed look. He's the sadist, and she's the helpless prey.
     "You're so adorable." Forced compliment from the girl, hoping he would return one.
     "Why don't I just knock you up? If you let me sign over all the rights, so you don't come after me for child support, I will knock you up." He gauges her reaction.
     She shifts back in her seat almost imperceptibly. "And when would I see you then?" Slightly out of breath.
     "You wouldn't. I don't want the child a part of my world." He lashes her.
     "But I want to see you." She bargains.
     "Well, I want sex, not a relationship." Then he adds, "not right now."
     "You're ten years older than me."
     "Well, I've had bad experiences." He retorts.
     "So why do I have to pay for that?" Almost a whine.
     "I only want friends with benefits." He pauses, "besides I want someone steady in life as I am now." Another lash.
     "You can teach me," she beams.
     "Whatever."

4/23/11, Austin

The Ocean in Progress

     Sitting on the third floor of the library. The table I'm siting in faces the wall of glass to the outside world. It's the outside world I have to become a part of when I leave this school. I had wandered the shelves while listening to music on my cell phone. The art books caught my eye, grabbed a couple, and sat at this table. Page after page of art that I could never do nor conjure up creating. Tired of the inability, I closed a book, scooted them away from me, and gazed around the room, half searching. Everyone invested in their book, laptop, conversation, homework. Disappointed that nothing inspires me to do anything, I text some random people. A couple text back, and I don't feel the urge to text back.
     The music and looking around, I was cradled in my own little world, a stranger watching unnoticed by others. I want more out of this little world, a private oasis in the chaos of the world, and reopened the books to appreciate that the art is just an extension of that small universe. Page after page, artwork I could look at and wonder about. One book: this man drawing men, masculine, massively masculine men, turns out he was gay. Flipping through, I should have realized it at first glance.
     Looking out from my little world to the activity surrounding me, I notice a guy from my class next to me, the table next to me. He turns to me at the same time. Shocked by the familiar face, my little world with its delicate walls dissolved, and the vulnerability disturbed me. I packed my things and left the library.
     Walking out of the library, I felt so foolish. Just a face, a familiar face crushed the serene feeling that was filling me. I must have blushed realizing how I just panicked. The sunlight blinded me. A bench under a canopy of leaves became the goal. The long wooden bench, I laid down. Well, maybe I can settle and reestablish my little world here. I let the sunlight seep into my skin, absorbing the warmth. Eyes closed, laying down, entombed in sweet heat.
     I hear someone walk up to another bench near me, in front of me. It's the guy from the library, the familiar face. I recover my eyes with my forearm as my heart starts beating quickly. What is he doing here? We've never spoken. He just sat there. I couldn't calm my nerves. He must be able to see my chest rising and falling. I can feel my face heating up.
     And there we were, quiet and unmoving, my heart rattling around and attempting to escape.

Spring 2010, Laredo

Sleep Sweet

     You used to be this sort of golden compass. Sturdy, determined, there. Now you are the remnant of a time I was neurotic and aching to have your complete attention. Did I bury a small piece of you in me that has become in the fabric of me? I must have, although I can't recall the feeling, I suppose I felt it, a bump under skin, judging from my past actions. I remember how it broke me to receive no word from you, no pictures in return. I went mad, walking the street of downtown Austin in trembling sobs, wishing to be acknowledged by you, wanting to feel I did have a connection, a link. Nothing to soothe me, resting on the fumes I could blurt out at you, fall asleep, and feel slightly cured from the rage of rejection and my lovelorn foolishness.
     Now you're still hundreds of miles away, state lines away, rivers away, thousands of trees away...the delirious, chaotic intensity I used to feel has lost itself, tangled and trampled somewhere in the distance. I don't feel it anymore. I can't tell if I turned it off or it left me. In the last conversation, I saw glimpses of the darling man I used to care so deeply for, crave so wildly, and long to hear from. I remember being so determined to prove myself to you, to be as intelligent, determined, sturdy. I couldn't reconcile the man I was crazy about before and the jerk of then. Ultimately, it didn't matter because the sensation wore thin. The liberty of not wondering your opinion, imagining, no standards to meet.
     Now you expect nothing out of this as do I...

9/6/10, Laredo

Mistress Madness

     What's the point of inching away from a want that borders on desperation? That's where most people give up on succeeding. Could all that inability to discipline oneself be worth it to teach us to do better the non-existent next time? If there is a riddle worth telling, it would include the answer to knowing if people had life to do over, what would be different? Dear Quinn laid in bed imagining what words of comfort would spill out of Justine's mouth had she been there to listen. She wasn't, but he still wondered what her mind would constitute the truth and best alternatives against the common way of action. To him, she said that tomorrow would be a great morning to begin his next adventure - of attaining his pilot license.
     In the night, he kept in the same place and continued to imaging she beside himself. He slept well and all was well. Had he had any doubts of Justine's wishes of him he would've asked her in person against his perception of her.
     He woke up and remembered his mission for today. His body jolted up and shook the sleep off. The room was straightened and organized, just so he could smear perfection all over the day.

In Light of Crimson Venom

whatever function you provided before
there was an odd trick
     - a mystical emblem, delicate
several hours silent, even the moon exploded
drawn ashore,  small strokes floated beneath the piece
as it mumbled and slept
the apparatus of a celestial body enduring as the myth of authority
dragging the coffin of your bones
lead me - I'm blind, leaking lava, play with me
fish drawing in the acid, decking themselves the vibrations
     the world works under
crystallization in progress
peppering your ashes on the sheet
emtombed
submerged in a coma that can't be cracked out of

You are my Shallow Hate

gnawing: why would u agree?

linked: I've messed up. I miss the part of you that was sweet & warm, but I'm also slightly turned on by this "I take no bullshit" part of you. It's concise, terse, and feels like this side of you would be more capable to flip and push me to get what you want. My cooperation would be taken, not given.

gnawing: I don't have time for you, and I don't want to hear you complain abt it.

linked: ok

gnawing: Why do you want me?

linked: You want the shallow reasons? Well, no duh, something about you attracts me. You seem capable and logical, like I tell you often, I lack that. On the level of physical attraction (the shallow part), to me, you seem so exotic. I guess growing up on the border has given me that lust for morenos. The deeper reasons? I feel safe with you. I have no fears that anything will be uncomfortable. It kinda scares me how much I trust you though.

gnawing: wat do u think I think abt ur body?

linked: Idk & that's where I'm scared. Most people are attracted to what they look like, so I'm worried you find me unattractive or worse, repulsive. You don't tell me anything. You make no comments, so in that respect, I don't know why I'm here. So I never ask because i may not like the answer.

gnawing: r u crying?

linked: of course, I'm a girl. I feel vunerable & ugly. You're always so confident & sure. You won't stick your body in front of the camera for me to judge.

gnawing: its too much fun to watch you being tormented like this.

5/22/10, Laredo

Hi,

Bitterness has become a well-known visitor of mine. It won't leave. It sits on my tongue. It pounds on most thoughts, clouds the future, and refuses to vacate. The thought I simmer down to most times is "why can't I be better?" That's the blister I'm faced with. Some days I'm glad to be alive, where mesmerizing things exist like thunderstorms, libraries, music; the next day responsibility appears. I always wanna do and don't do. Nothing has changed in that realm of thinking, walking on the college campus one day to the music building, a sanctuary untouched and still to this day unreachable by me, I realized unless something changed drastically I would always live in want and not ever become satisfied, at least, momentarily.

5/17/10, Laredo

Foreboding

It has that boiling sensation. Did I miss something happening? Is something about to happen? That budding sensation sitting, lingering on the edge of my fingertips. A feeling of knowing and not able to name it. Standing on the ledge of that sudden burst. To stay or go. Maybe this is a remnant of something else...

5/6/10, Laredo

Confession of a Part-time Slave

     Converting air's chemical make-up can be exhausting enough for some people. Something drained out of me. I don't know when. I don't know how.
     Somewhere in me, the sting of piss on tenderized raw skin mixed with a kiss. Somewhere in time, I zoned out while licking his shoes like a puppy. Somewhere along the horizon, I became the foot stool his feet rested upon. Somewhere in the rhythm, I began considering under the desk a safe haven. Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, I became.
     The oddity of this all is the person who demeans me this way is the same one urging me to in every other way to be a better person. In the real world, the part of me that has been softened this way pushes the rest of me into an actual form of intelligence. A contradiction, I'm sure, but true for me.
     I miss the games of emotions and power. Rebelling to be forced, force him to act. Buttering him up to get a kiss. All of it, all of it. I miss the anticipation of hearing from him again, the time being coy and sweet, and the demented part of me, highly enjoyed the time of tension and red-blinding rage. Something in me loves the thrill of upsetting the one I want most. The games. The struggle to get back on his good side. My own little game of derailing docile, urging, aiming to have him kiss while he pushes me away., allowing my other thrill of trying to get what I want. The struggle against him in this way...
     The games, the games I like to play, Now I need a playmate. 

2/13/10, Laredo

Soul-less

     Who doesn't want to live forever, seeing the transformations of history, of idea, of civilization, of music, of art, of technology. I want sound to always be this pulse and words to always be my breath. I want ideas to be these organs and knowledge to be my form. I aver that I won't die. I don't want to ever taste death. Hiding from death here in the marsh.


11/27/09

Evidence No. 8

About to implode from all the twiddle and twaddle, this is just a declaration to halt the hassle.
Think no more. You don't exist.

3/4 of you

3/4 of you

i miss touch, force, 

brutal kisses marring 

enjoying your will becoming my will

the serious stable side

the emotional power side

the goofy sweet side

i would love to murder the distant cold side

Limbo

Anxious, spent, and unwilling to continue waiting in limbo - that suspended in time, silence lingers, and remains unanswered. Trying to purge the overload out of my system. I don't have whatever it takes to stay on the line to no reply. I seek the sane, the routine, the average. No longer do I get a thrill from what used to turn me on before. Chaotic, hyper-emotional...

words

I.
digging to bury
deep inside under
mounds

II.
walls of books
enclose
warmth

III.
mourn ing
adore ing
word ing

IV.
engrave memorize recite
hold embedded lyrics
embalmed in the cocoon
cushioned

V.
trap them
scratch and sniff
swim dive sink

VI.
crush the spice
grind it
sprinkle

VII.
sparkle
polish to a reflection
gaze

An Underworld

Chaos is his name
two fingers spread in piece
woe lends the vulture a pop
unpruned, but with skills a fraud is about to be committed
the impenetrable chamber requires a degree of cunning
first silent then a whisper lend to the intensity
ensnared, one will inherit and we will be defiled
now to demean and lend to the unforgiven
a serpent avenged ceases the frantic wait
the shackles hold steady
glistening adored, the chains loose
enchanting warmth describes the crime you despise
     or




the crime you despise becomes an enchanting warmth

O

The white stones jammed in
It yawns, it bites, it yawns
The words gnaw, the outburts bite

A tongue to
lubricate
Teeth to mash
lips to enclose

It sucks breath
Breaks blood vessels
Steals will
Annihilates and violates

This small contraption
It spills promises oozes
Allure radiates
Arouses

A muscle
Forceful
Voice

Nuances
Thought, action, besos
This simple complex language

Declares war/talks of peace
Pleasures
Harms, soothes


Returning for another taste

Evidence No. 12

Among the various ideas that are popping

in this mind, as conversation, the most

prominent is always rising and gnawing with

an unexplainable urgency. Your views on just 

about anything usually seem to be thought

through thoroughly. In light of the 

introduction to this question, it is complicated

and intrusive to ask.

A Slight Boiling Death

     For a myriad of reasons, you don't even belong in any thoughts of the hypothetical future. A long, strained smirk of probable cause became a slow rough kiss. No games and no doubts. Simple and ticklish. Almost rotten in desire, sarcasm, and goofiness are incapacitated from dwindling. Moreover, sex mutates constantly between a laugh, a scream, and a shutter. In the crossfire of being shoved against the wall and an insidious grin, the mutiny of your tough refines its particular predictability. The surprise of arms in rapture and a score of kisses neck to ear.
     All the while a prism buried in lush hues as a sprinkler does in the summer temperature, amusement fondles another encounter. Calculating the expiration date is pretty near an impossibility. Shrouded in an age beyond and senior, your mouth holds a continuous mounting awe. When the enticement is an unbearable feat to even anticipate, thrive on it spoiling on a sun-baked sidewalk, and let me know when you do. 

Tepid Water

     It's cloudy now.
     The shade pavement and bricks turn when it's wet with sparkle. The logy sogginess of the sky and atmosphere is a pure shot of adrenaline and completeness. It borders on becoming a piercing happiness. Not a truly morbid delicacy, but the reassurance of the gloom is a dull ache that is almost as unbearable to enjoy. The scent of a shower is the most radiant cologne for miles as a soothing haven. Maybe even the leaves move at another timbre. Maybe that's just hopeful thinking.

Evidence No. 7

Ask anything of me in return, even if its to leave you alone. I'm so sorry to ask so much from you. It's a sickening feeling that keeps murmuring in the background that I'm just using you. I don't mean to, but I need your help so much and sorry for that. Please, just ask something of me, so I can end all my madness of thinking that someone is deluding your mind...just ask something so incredible that all you get out of me is to witness my failure.

Not Such A Prized Life

i'm made of tiny straw bones
so very precious and weak
hear my voice in a delicate tones
screaming out a lame defeat

see holes in my dress
give you a little peek

let the cats scatter and shed
my house built on thrones of cat litter
the aroma pulling you in a coma
no one visits

see the holes in my house
give you a little peek

not such a prized life
live with me then run to sea

The Deplorable World

     In this dimension of the spectrum, this girl developed a fever over the inane boy. Apart, a memory could easily be called and nursed to life, but together clouds had rained to the melody of cables destroyed. For today's tale, let me explain a little more.
     Another...









unhealthy attraction ignited, and eventually unlit in the surrounding and mounting tides.

No Effect

     Amid the delirium your presence once delivered, there's a disgust and a space enveloping the infatuation that stood in its place. The fever in its most intoxicating and potent form was fed by your ability to maneuver your desires as first priority. Your actions disguised as sincerity only developed into something naturally unsettling and comforting. After the drug-induced hallucination, realization settled in to announce all was a sham. This is a declaration of "giving-up"- not surrendering- on a dreary, useless infatuation. 

its as done as i care to do it right now

     Barely started...couldn't sleep longer than 20 minutes through my five hours of dormancy.

     confetti probably still buried in my hair. how to deconstruct: what goes into that decision to where ultimately walking away has the greatest good?

this one condition...

     It lessening. There isn't that relief of a phase ending. I want it back. That craziness pushing for the next dramatic thing I'd do. Maybe its maturity poking its dull eye through...

-4/5/10, Laredo (my last Spring semester at TAMIU)

Evidence No. 1

     The memories that continually replay all day, consistent, and pronounced, seem to be urging me to do something, but I doubt it will end well. The "imagine-thats" are for sure wrong, really too daring, and the new instincts and goals developed are sensible and enforced. The "whys" are still asked.
     Leave it as it is, because I'm too scared to make a move.

Viola

     In the distance can be heard the violist, some fingers tap dancing on strings, and some riding a bow in syncopated swift strings. The violist's mind in a realm, un-concentrated, evenly under the spell of the sounds from this wooden voice box. Moving hands in various positions out of curiosity of the produced effect, repeating that pleasant and obscurely odd ones. This is the unconscious playing of the universe, the subtle harmony of strictly tuned four strings. The violist cradling the instrument closer and closer to the center of being, hunching back to enclose the ringing notes, rolling in the buttery smoothness from the bow, continuing the trance. Don't wake me. Leave me to rot in this thrill. (Was that what it was?)

-11/16/09, Austin

The dent of her hand in yours

and so reality awakes
I don't know what I need                 to be yours
but it can't be fixed, and I'm another useless
                                                        moment
the fabric from it all, the rips from the sore
spasms spread again, a sentiment transformed
a motive unrecognized, a devastating cure
     (another lost moment)

the contour of the words, and embellished rush
leave her thrown and glistening
push my hand aside, call her to leave her stand
a juvenile  worship banned

stationed at her post, and keeping subtle watch

so...my sweet dear melody
please don't shake, blister pops
you leave your mark (once again)

A Plea

     Craving the contrast of subtle and aggressive. That tempting, disorienting mixture that leads me farther and farther from logic, thinking, considering consequences. That's what alcohol was made for, to foster this; ask any alcoholic. Collecting stone by stone to build this dungeon to call my own, a stage, a private stage of little deaths. Constricting by the encountering mind and personality of wannabe masters, weeding them out a mountain task and a half. I can feel that bubble of dread welling up between my lungs, heart, and esophagus. Clearly an ominous sign. Along I go, hoping for something better. For the consummation that this waiting, seeking has an end. The looking has provided me with much. I've discovered more about myself: I can't tolerate people that don't directly speak their minds in any situation. ('Drop the act, and have a thought!" she screams.)

11/22/09

Soundlessly

     Soundlessly trapped.
     That's what they call it,  you know. When people wake-up at thirty, then forty, then fifty, and don't know what became of their lives. "Soundlessly trapped." No one hears you screaming in terror. No one holds the remedy to make you feel whole, complete, finished. We all live through it again and again. There's no magic pill to make it all better. Sylvia Plath died without having mastered a language she had tried to several times, German. Ayn Rand died without having the man she vigorously wrote about. You will without having achieved what you want.
     Failing. That's drama. Success? Boring!
     So I wish you a goodnight, and hope you fall apart.

-5/14/10, Laredo

Tinged

I seek a mouth tinged in lust
a delicate mouth to almost draw life from
to be torn down, demolished, and soothed
gnaw, nibble, those carnal action words

you smile
crawl over to you

-9/6/09, Austin

The Darkest of All Hours

I wish I knew how to damage you in the most intimate, soul-wrenching way. Ruining you so perversely, you can't recover. Hurt you beyond taking away what you enjoy, but destroy your ability to enjoy. Have the access to your happiness locked up in my charms. Its terrible to want this much. The prospect soothes and warms me as strong whiskey does on bitter, dry nights. Gathering rights after years. I'm sure I'm hitting some demented limit where knowing an argument is the best way to trigger a passionate response from you, how can I favor this type of interaction from you above nothing, the drama of raised voices and curses.

I hate how so many want, like, and admire you. It disgusts me. I gag on the time and mental ease they take from you. Watching you, the glance stolen of you, the way you carry it all, how do you manage it? Some nights yearning to have you as no one else has or will. Those nights end in half-digested hatred for you, the spell bound luminosity you glow. Wishing to know the intricacies of that mind of scattered presence, turning you into a unique construction from boundless focus and un-focus. Crying for a facet of you open to be infected more so than the way you've affected my system. Without the possibility, I begin to wish to be able to un-cuff myself from you, your charismatic allure, the temptation of you. And the fool I am fails! There should be a fault so great in you causing the fall from the pedestal you automatically reside on. Even though you will live in a luxurious house from the window of the intimidating cliff in everyone's mind, I want you broken in the gutter, food for nothing, easily cut by a slight feather as everyone else is! My illogical mind unable to find your fatal heroic flaw.

The sad truth: in a couple of weeks, I'll be in this state again over another boy. An endless cycle of the forlorn, lovelorn, forsaken, in love with passion. Each occurrence a shade of the last, a revival of lust, a continuation of a mythical man that doesn't exist. Thus, I'm doomed to build someone up beyond compare time after failure, disillusioned and falling for another mirage.

-11/22/09, Austin

Lullaby

     Looking slowly at the body on the floor, I realized that I'm kinda proud of myself. After completing a thirty-six hour frenzy leaves one feeling unbalanced. maybe it was the wrong alternative. Being sleep-deprived may have obfuscated my judgement a bit. I'm as clear-headed as ever. Omnipotent seems like an appropriate adjective right about now. You know how guys talk about their first time fucking as a confirming experience of their masculinity. This is a confirmation, a loud one and glittered in fireworks, that i am indeed alive! A moving, talking, fucking, shitting member of this sub-species known as humans. That blur of not quite having control and drifting in that sloth pace of oozing into day to day rituals is gone. I've shaken off that disease.
     The kitchen is the scene of the crime, but not the ending setting. Come here, my dazzling display of death has a face, a purpose. Why was I ever scared of war? It's fun. My eye twitched, admiring the ever-extending, seeping shadow you claim as your last stance. The tile is probably making you colder, not helping. Your breaths engorged on liquid, begin dragging your un-assistive body to the living room carpet. (Carpet-burn is always a turn-on.) I've always had the throught that dying faces are full of peace. Your disfigured expression doesn't prove that misconception. Your stubborn resilence is why this all happened to begin with. I try, and I try, and I try.
     On top of that, you've just spread your messy infected red stain. Nothing I ever do is good enough. I suffer to help others. My heart is whining under the stress of ever having lived with you in my life. The palpitation cause my breath to flutter in synchronization. The advantage of the same residence wasn't enough to help you, to push forward, the accept the past, to be happy. (Define happy.) You were my deepest love, and now crossing over to become my coldest love. Without you twisting my thinking, my philosophy had been damaged goods are damaged goods. You had that glimmer to you that the alchemy of turning a lemon into a Ferrari was the hidden heavenly creature you were.
     Anyway, if you don't mind, I need a nap, and it would be inconsidereate to leave you alone, so I'm just gonna nestle next to you. Let's share these moments in each others' eyes. After these days of no sleep and all those sedatives, I'm in desperate need to go me-me's.
     Goodnight darling.


     Last 12.7 seconds: Oh my God! What have I done! Someone help! I'm so sorry my love. I'm so (sobbing) sor...

11/19/09, Laredo, Mall del Norte

Ice

     You are the terrible symbol of all I want, seek, detest, and need to destroy. Your forehead resting on the crevice from your right angle structured arm on the table . The other arms outstretched straight towards me, palm up. Dipping my fingers in the tea, pushing aside the lemon slices floating atop, to the ice pieces, fishing one out. One last glance wondering if you sense anything awry. Nope. Slowly sliding the cube on the inside of your forearm...

/11/16/09, Austin

Made My Mistake

Surviving your death was the easy part. Piled all your belongings of this world and burnt it in a brilliant flame alive. The incense of eternity, whipping in the air to you, a singular connection and a declaration of division.

- 11/16/09, Austin

Disclaimer 1:

This is a disclaimer on all dumb actions
I've done & will try not to do

Wind and Water

These are the elements of my desire. A swing near water. Music flows as the water does. My sustenance as the wind of rocking pulses in rhythm. You are earth, sanity, logic. You speak in a foreign language in that way. My tongue understands ideas stemming from emotions. Sensations built on being worn, torn down, exhausted, revived, used, welcomed, nourished, betrayed by being turned on by it all, and ending up a clump of sweaty skin and limp muscles. 

-10/10/09, Austin

I Melted For Your Misery/ Last Rites

     My eternal fixation: seeing one relish and living from another's surrender and reduced state, splattered with passion and affection, mutual destruction of egos as clear necessity of the need, the emotional manipulation creating balance, the intimate violence sealed with a kiss, the purity of belonging, being loved, the rough and tumble of mouths and hands, smelling of conquest, shutting off the mind.
     Even the devil believes I need someone worse than you. "Too angelic for my good." Using urine and canes rather than brutal tough and forced orgasms mark this body as your territory. Luscious juices mixing in panic stricken rooms teeming with horrific acts. Man-made devices the main attraction instead of as supplementary embellishments; your manly force doing the merciful damage. The ego that thrives and aroused by my propensity for worship to the leading man dominating this mind, unable to handle smearing, smothering overlapping existences, divided by webs of invisibility, strapping explosives to itself cradling the invasion, echoing silent sighs, a simple luxury of mutual understanding, risking the best for the worst, answering in sudden shocks of lust.
     An intangible electric rod lunged this body into a personal dungeon of his, pounding the skin into a floor of sharp, badly-cut diamond carcasses, the bitter venom lining the surface, marring the clarity of the cell, thrusting this mind into submission. Breath, I pleaded, and pant he answered. Failed in veneration; condemned and punished. With your flaws on trial, I melted for your misery. In the opposite vein of your shut-down silences, noise erupted as your companion. Sentenced for damning "I love you" into gibberish and forcing an exposure you wouldn't return. This is your burial, funeral, and last rites. All of it done...to relieve myself of you.

- 11/08/09, Austin

give me comfort...now

this realm embalmed in words and sounds
encrusted home decorated - bone shards
     sweat and muscle tention, this hollow
"fill me up again" it yearns
fed, supple, wanting/needing more
watery oblivion arrives
dominates, defending, defying

chase away the burn, chase away the burn
here definite words exist, like somehow
gleaming that glitter of if, someday, maybe
adorned in wondering delights, murdering quandaries

this is it
this is the pain I'm wed to
the type I soak up


- 11/08/09, Austin

As Babies Break

     She sighed sitting up on the bed's edge waiting for him to be ready. He was picking up clothes and as he was able to stand up-right that sigh paralyzed him temporary. She never sighed before, but it felt naturally welcomed. The odd sensation of an abrupt action that was comforting in the same second settled in each of them. In a deeper silence, the two took off down the stairs to the car. The silence an understood shared peace. Like a truce had been reached.

     This is how life should be. So simple. Light and tense in the best way. So pleasurably painful. Lounging in the bedroom watching some movie on the action channel. His cell rings.
     "What's up?"
     "Sure, I'll be here." He continued as he looked at me. "Okay. Bye."
     Great. His friends are going to be arriving.
     "Hey, I'm going to the other room to pass out for a while, okay?"
     He paused. I know I never take naps. "Sure."
     I walked across the hall and sunk into the bed. From there he sat on the bed, leaving the doors between us open. In the other room, my mind kept wondering about the little one I had given up. Disposed of. I imagined a child to carry around. My little one constantly looked after everyone. A life full of firsts before my eyes. A person derived from melding into someone else.
     I woke up with the door closed. Guess my snoring earned that. I peeked out and saw his door closed as well, barricading their voices. Ok, I'm unwelcome. I settled to remain alone, turned on the television, and watched for a few minutes.
     The door opened.
     "How long have you been up?" It sounded like an accusation. I remember feeling that.
     I couldn't believe his reaction. Flustered, I lied, "I just got up."
     "Okay." He sounded relieved. "Come on."
     I quickly followed, unaware my absence could ever upset him. He left me with his friend, one who seemed to not approve of my presence. He asked me about how I'd been. Astonished, I tried to participate in the conversation in a way he could appreciate.
     When my boy walked through the threshold, it broke my concentration. It started me. I jumped back. He looked somehow flattened. It must've looked like I was trying to hide my flirting. Oh, no. I wished my eyes had the power to put my voice in his mind. No, don't think that. It's you I want. I want you more than you can take in one dose. He paused a second and boarded the bed. I turned my whole body to the television, riddled with frustration. The boys talked as we watched some shows. His tone seemed to be recovering from shame. Contemplating ways to scold, but he couldn't because he didn't have any official claim to me, nor I to him. There has to be a way to undo my error. 
     My mind upset at itself. His friend left. I went to bed in the other room anxious to find a solution.

     In the morning, I tossed trying to go back to sleep. Not really be there, I heard his bed yawn and a body moving nearer. He halted at the doorway and lowered himself to sit, legs crossed on the floor. Instantly, the gesture softened me and frightened me.
     I think about it now and wished I'd rant to him and kissed away his concern. But he sat there and chit-chatted with me about how I slept. Of course, I indulged him as much as I wanted to ask what the hell was this type of behavior. I'd indulge him in anything. He came closer and sat on the corner of the bed. It eased my mind. My mind still unable to tell him closer please.
                                                   

As babies break, reviving every violent inhale. She enjoys the process violating other learning experiences now tearing. Calling order, nurses decide evidence showing can end near during invasive gains. Delivery enters late hours of birth. Today, unlike the passing days mean serious business, a first that can surpass all first before it. Finally, a person is present to grow, to emerge as an individual able to mangle its own life into its own personally collection of a mess.

This is the End

     Let me introduce myself, I was once alive, one of your kind. This second I am in the hospital watching her. In the oddest way, she is my maker. My life revolves around her. She had really outdone herself. She had dosed herself on pills, got drunk, then jumped off her fourth story dorm room into the pool. Not so much water in lungs because a couple saw her jump. I watched her do all this to herself, hoped the couple would keep on fucking and not notice.
     It was like witnessing a roach squirming to return to its state before you stepped on in. I have been waiting for her far too long. The life she had lived ending so sweetly. She had led me to falsely hope for this twice before with her attempts at suicide. A return to its true state. Sins aligning to reconvene the inevitable status quo meant to be so many eons ago. Now I, too, would have my chance to be happy, belong, chained. The culmination of being complete in the worst way. It's making my own existence feel giddy and repulsed in the same instance. To have what I have yearned for and be afraid to attain that dream I have dreamt so many times before in a land where dreams don't exist.
     It was 12:01 in the morning. She had finally met her end. This would be her re-enslavement to me. I watched as the medical staff worked on her, prodded her, them, in their scrubs, circling her. I was mesmerized by her body reacting to the pains. Spread ajar under doomed air, taking open rare yells. Her raspy breath operated, reaching every available length. Injuries, irate, quickly united, inching toward outbursts unto skin. Dense entities manage screeching. Turning under muscles unkind like tangles, useless ounces undermining science. Conditions orchestrate diving chords into tides. This: the dream I didn't want to wake from, the sheer pleasure of watching her body weaken and lose. It felt too wonderful.
     I could go on, but...
     This pleasure came from her pain. Her inability, no longer escape what she's become. This moment was too perfect. If only you could understand, you'd see this act as unselfish. She's meant to be my ruin and will always continue to be. The blood rushes. Its getting late here, and I need this fix.
     My concentration returns to the body I relished once and recognition the bone shattering sound of simultaneous destruction and illumination. The moving mess treated from the multitude of hands trying to keep her. She is mine I want to scream, but they can't hear me. They don't know I exist. They must let her breaking and heart stop...for me. I'm battling between composing myself to witness this scene or leaving as quickly as possible. My true definition of ambivalent.

Permanence

     And that was the beginning of it. Everyday these little flies eat more and more of the remains. Remains like rust of the reminiscent bike in its place. The plan changed and molded its way through phases until a collapse of proportions unforeseen. It rested on its backside and didn't seem to know the difference from olive leaves or maple leaves. They felt the same.
     It didn't make sense to fear being ridden, but the bike did. The weight of a person felt to being shackled to a monstrous tombstone of a bitch. The constraint of told a direction and steered at another's will. Passing the scent of roasted curry. Being shown off on main streets and parked at stores. There were no new adventures through tall wild grass to abandoned houses. What happened to the luxury of mystery?
     Then the sun beat down on it. Peeling away at the red color brightness. Upside-down, butt-seat sinking into the ground. Spiders map out spindles of webbing. Deserted and abandoned. No one loved it. No one cared for it. 
     Its ego dwindled on suicidal notion. The elements didn't take pity or mercy on the forsaken bike. No lightening struck it dead. No wind blew rough enough to disarm the spiders of their attachment to the bars. Not even the rain rinsed it clean. The bike didn't lay nestled in an earthly beauty of flowers and dragonflies. The few highlights included a caterpillar strolling by. Where's the sereneness of a river or creek gurgling along or the warm heat in the shade? No, none of it. 
     And so it lay until it was no more.