2010 dec. 2nd

My life comes to this: I was never given the opportunities to fall into the well respected niches people die out of. I am in a struggle to find my own modest space.

Love is truly the mightiest thing. I can not just love Jesus because I would not love Buddha, Zeus, Moloch, Allah, Ra. Simply because it would be more profitable for me to only follow one path of love -a well trodden one like Christianity- does not mean it is the right one to follow. I love ...long long list of people... I love everyone. I love Charles Manson, I love the two serial killers who went to my school. God is a synonym for love. Humanists put this ultimate power of love and creation in our hands, to love ourselves. I need to tell...not love everyone enough. Every moment of everyone else's life is precious. When you come in contact with someone, you place yourself into them. You literally are a part of them. When you cause them ills, you hurt yourself too. Rastafarians say I and I because in this way we are all one. Empathy is key. Make the lives of other only better. Please. Golden Rule and all. 1 Corinthians 13

There's a lot of pigeons in this city
stuck on their stoops
peckin for scraps
shittin all over people's heads.
they used to be scared of us.
now they approach
surely,
coy.

I
s        g
 w      n
    u

my foot
thinking one would fly away.
It sat there
instead and waited,
feeling lucky.

wwjd?

walking down the streets of dark nights of the soul
youth/charm
pushing out the bars in smoke with spoiled meats pushing for a space of their own.
waiting for a cigarette lender and enough change to turn their cup of pennies into beer.
while 'tween gropes tits laugh away and drink freely from the cream of horny kindness.
they rain down the drain.

Pavements a place to sleep, a cold crack for home.

I went to the loneliest bar in town and sat down, had a drink, stared at the city for inspiration.
I got nothing but a drink
all alone
in a bar.

I dreamed, I dreamt as Winter
         wept
out her twinkling
         stars
down on my
         tongue.

So it went. I froze as
         heat
from my body was
         spent.

I laid down my self
         cold
for the earthly stars to
         hold.

For my sacrifice they
         turned
me to dirt and
         ice.

I was the holy star
         dust
again ready for
         life.

Please Lord,
                    Let me die slow
                    Let me have my nicotine stains
                    My painful back
                    My shattered soul
                    My foul complexion.

Please Lord,
                    Give me the mercy
                    Of mortality
                    Of being under you
                    Of being less than a perfect idea
                    yet full of your perfect inspiration
                    which tears me to tatters.

Please Lord,
                    Let me cause pain
                    Let me hurt myself
                    Let me crush others
                    Let me see things and wholes as less than me
                    Let me get wet in the rain
                    Let me stand between you and your lovers in vain.

Please Lord,
                    Let me pray for something sweeter than myself.

o o o o ophelia o feel ya ♥ (the symbol who represents the point in the body between the life in your swollen nook and bosom)

She told me to take her gifts of mercy; thoughts and touches. But her body and soul were forever hers and could never be traded for any golden muse. She left portions to her children, but they could only hold so much. So she laid down under the dirt when she got too tired to carry such burdens. She gave it all to flowers. To the day her body is still a lovers sway. I threw myself into the teeth of wolves. So they may hunt and outlive the hunted. So they may feign pride and take the fleshy heat who lovers make.

I said I just wanted love but I always make things too complicated.