written much in the same way one would vomit. sudden upchuck, and luckily (maybe) i had some paper to catch them... hoping they're better than half digested pasta..
April 12th 2004
so we’re fools then..
we want it to be like a movie.
and so it isn’t
and that’s probably a good thing.
the three word gesture drawn out longer than it needs to be,
cry cry cry. we can go on.
and there’s a pole between the ribs,
and it’s lights out.
or even just the nuclear ending.
kissy kiss then a minivan.
don’t see all the crap afterwards.
and isn’t it nausiating anyways?
passing two people on the street, giving each other those kind of looks
would surely only make us want to kick them.
so why not do it then for other reasons.
tell me I’m a liar or pity me.
but no one knows how to make it stay.
the minivan will back right over what you wanted.
but I don’t have anything to back over now do i.
and that is the tragedy?
maybe it is.
just the thought of the whole process from dance
to dead disco exhausts me.
I guess I start it up anyways, but the effort is always half assed.
the results are the same anyways.
I guess they are right. I’m choking on it.
run my blood through a filter, you’ll get some coffee.
just hope the filter takes out the possible spoils
of the half assed efforts.
should there be any.
and what happens when it’s christmas..
and instead of a plump turkey and good tidings
I have fat drag queens.
it’s terrifying, really..
I’d have to lynch myself in the zone.
April 15, 2004
it’s hard to think that everytime you catch intimacy
you could end up with more.
each time could be what ends it all.
and it’s only after that you get the stress.
all is good when the blood is flowing
often with too much indulgence.
leading to even more indulgence..
a thousand and one slip it in slip ups.
morning comes, heads hurt, and you’ve nothing to say.
and you’re just hoping they’ll leave
before you have to offer them coffee.
so okay, they finally haul ass.
you only have a hangover and hospice thoughts as a parting gift.