pane

pane of widowed window smashed broken glass crashed by flying rocks flung long ago in the throws of frustration.

... pane

of glass is what should come to mind but even though the spelling is different, this word only has one meaning for me. i wish to elevate myself to a higher plane of existence, thinking, being, loving, living breathing whatever but it won't happen.

there is too much pain in the way.

... purple

hints of purple collect under my eyes in the suitcases that have formed because my heart won't sleep every night we spend hours far away in a world where nothing exists except the love we know is real but can't seem to make tangible and there is always an excuse to stay all warm and fuzzy and completely trapped inside this world of fantasy but i swear i'm breaking out.

... locked

up tight. scared to write.

all of those things down that i have thought and felt that are now lost in the vaults of the past and in the eyes of the people who never really cared in the first place i look rather silly, dramatic and emotional.

i wanted to write them so i'd remember, but now i'm glad i didn't because i needed to forget.

... usual

big, black and boring. dull print that repeats the same speech patterns that drip from my lips with tired and redundant quotes from people a lot funnier and creative than myself. we regulars come in and always have our usuals and that bartender pours the drink without even asking anymore and i just don't like the predictability my life has become.

justice

Justice. Bring the crime. Bring the accused. Bring the injured. Bring the evidence. Bring your bias, and disregard the facts.

petal

petals of sorrow drip-drip orgastic. shudders and mutters that resemble sexual satisfaction, but convey a very different message.

... cult

take your free thinking and push it aside. you don't need it. you can use your energies for more productive and useful things. it would save so much . it would make things so much. easier.

dominate

dominate the space that communicates. eat words and gain weight. eat the space between the words and gain understanding.

leap

leap the fall and hop the autumn spring through winter and hit the bottom of summer and season and time changes with reason

... possessed

the potential to be something great. notice i didn't say anything about fate or destiny or a calling or anything leading anyone to believe that there wasn't a choice in this becoming great. it is a choice you make every second of every day.

... yarn

knit me up something pretty, grandma. i'll love it to death but never wear it and only after you are gone will i treasure it like i should have every second i had it and you in my life and i miss what we could cave been to each other and i wonder why you had to go when you did.

... driftwood

it doesn't matter. you presence is welcome when you are on and exhilarating to be around. we love good jokes and good times but we have deeper love to go home to. we can appreciate this surface level interaction for what it is.

you can't... because you don't have anything else.

leave me longing for new england winters.

snow

jade of all trades:
things went white and cold rather quickly and i struggled to find myself in the whirlwind of static, circling my heart after you stole all of its warmth...

scarlet ideals:
it was chilling against my skin and you pulled off my clothes and i shook with pain and fear and more excitement than i think you may have noticed and i can't seem to shake the thoughts of all that shaking we did in each other's arms that winter.

lizzi:
fall down stairs and cheeks and mountains built out of paper scraps and rubber cement and we can make it all fit together, rolling all our lies up into a big snow ball that only stings when it hits you in the face.

... medium

tennis court skylines
and medium sized
g-string panty lines
both illuminate aching, lonely times
when we all wished
it was more than hit or miss

... some of us ARE in it for the long haul.

shenry string

cake, novice, ceremony, blank, sin, foreign, tomb, civil, rainy, byte, bite, tradition, hurl

Original sin. There is no blank slate. We are born evil. We inherit the filth of our ancestors via dna and tradition. Purity and holiness are foreign to us. We are allergic to it. Thus we perform sacred and useless ceremonies of purification so that byte by byte we reformat at spiritual hard drives. Pointless. In the end we are hurled into our rainy tombs caked in evil and unfit for afterlife.

extra

trim the excess. shed the mental fat. trim the mind of memories and achieve a more efficient state of thinking

... ceremony

a whole lot of timing. a whole lot of tip toe and hands to hold along with breath that you forget to take as the man next to you starts to nod off and it doesn't even matter what exactly we are here for, but that we do it in the right order.

deadly?! oh, there are way more than seven.

...sin

lizzi...
so necessary are these mistakes we make and rules we break so carelessly like the countless hearts without even knowing the hurt we've caused. it's all connected and all a part of it and i refuse to deny existence by limiting myself to only the good and only the right and i...

jade...
sweet, it is and i get lost in between all of the lies you force down my throat and i don't mind because this thing can at least be real to me and that really is all that matters so carry me away, please on these... my stale and boring dreams that everyone has but no one does shit about...

scarlet...
my home. my safe. but only because you won't let me be anywhere else. you want me to be wrong and bad and i will live up to all of your expectations on this upside-down pedestal i fall up from every night as you lay there wishing you could say all those things to me that you could never tell anyone else and i swear...

raiding angelina jolie's undie drawer...

tomb.

yeah, i'm a little bit dead inside. this body i walk around in trying to distract myself from how the death is eating away at my insides could be called a tomb... if you wanted to be melodramatic about it. and i suppose that i'm really good with that sort of thing, usually coupled with self deprecation.

lizzi plays catch up...

i figured that since most of us can slip up every now and again, it would be fun to try and play a new game to get us back in the swing of things. when i miss a really good word, i get uber frustrated and fill my brain with shoulda coulda woulda's... so why not type them up too?
shenry, this might be a good idea for you over the weekends. i rarely see you post during them. SUMBUDDY's a cubicle surfer.
anyway... all i did was try to string the words i missed on oneword together. they are in bold. lemme know if you dig this.


on some far away, magical summer day, i played a rainy softball game. the tears fell down casually, playfully but still covered me completely. who's idea was it to get white jerseys?
but i played on, seeing through my sexual fantasies of me and "i thought you knew." and as the evening fell, the wind picked up. it carried with it a bite that made me shiver they way i do when fingertips dance on my hips. i was shaken up, no doubt, running circles around what i thought you cared about. and in this dizzy tradition, i tumbled to the ground just like the rain drops before me.
and then you stood over me, looking down and shaking your head. i know for a fact that this time... it wasn't something that i had said.
shut up and let me hurl my silence at you. let my wants and needs be unnecessary frosting on the cake that nobody wants but eats anyway. because it's there.
and i sit there pulling up grass and rolling in the dirt, but darkness won't cover up any of the stains even when midnight strikes along with a new batch of rain.
it's time to get up and find my way home. my way away from you and them and all those plays that i should have made. but there is nothing- no map to guide. here's where we get cheesy and realize that the journey we have to take is all inside...
our minds and hearts and the focus drips off of my fingers and hair and gathers in a puddle i just want to soak myself into, letting me disappear. i don't care if it IS just a retreat- an escape.

maybe delusion is just better than intuition.

... of or in accordance with organized society.

civil liberties and edible g-strings get stuck in-bewteen my teeth and waivering self esteem.

going through the motions of "how are you" when you really just worry about everyone wanting to fuck everyone else and you wonder when that sort of thing won't matter anymore...

civil

civil liberties and securities. ben franklin said that a country that sacrifices the former for the latter deserves neither. he was right.

rainy

the news said its raining in new york. again and again it rains in new york. over the concrete and asphalt. the suits and beggars. puddles ebb and flow with the passing of taxi tires, and splash her so.

frosting

white landscape flat and barren. sand the color and texture of sticky-icky powdered bone. sit and die in the desert (dessert) of malnutrition.

better

You are no better than the roaches you associate with. You and your six-legged friends that come out when the lights are dimmed. You scavenge tiny bits and tiny crumbs from the kitchen floor where I cook my work ethic with heated sweat and effort. But you, you come along and take the scraps of everything I have done. And the sad part is that my scraps are 100 times better than anything you can come up with on your own. Roachfucker. One of these days I'll come out in the middle of the night with a can of RAID and flip the intellectual switch that sends your filthy ass scurrying under the fridge. It's a long run to the fridge, and the flat linoleum leaves you vulnerable. You are mine. Maybe I'll step on your head instead of flooding you with aerosol poison. Yes, stepping on your head will be much more satisfying. Crunch.

give me your lips and just let me kiss them...

mouth

as scarlet ideals:
it seems that i have fallen- i must have tripped. over my heart and right smack into your lips. breathing you in, moving from tiny, little sips to urgent slurps, sucks and drips.

as jaded hope:
i should have known that all the love you spit was counterfeit bullshit. i should have known that it was just skin on skin and spit mixed within a mountain built on disrespect, lies and ... hope.

as lizzi face:
mouth off to me like that again, little miss, and i swear by stone that you will live long enough to regret it and us and what we thought we had here in the dark but i can't seem to remember beacause, well i think you forgot.

mouth

that kid has quite the fucking mouth on him, doesn't he? always with the gum flapping, liquid wet shit from the mouth nonsensical ravings of an ADD afflictied teenage looney toon.

mouth

mouth. lend me your tongue and give me control. i'll slip it around and enjoy the sliding bliss of open-mouthed kiss.

secluded

turn me outside in and i become engulfed within my own reality. i am secluded from the rest, for all i see and all i hear and all i feel is myself.

forget me nots smell funny...

unforgettable

as jade
you aren't. no one is. the brain forgets for reasons within our scientific knowledge, i'm sure... but the soul forgets because it has to.
without forgetting there is no importance in remebering.

as scarlet
people tell me that i should forget about all of these self destrcutive things and silly things like talk of dreams and moon beams and bubbling streams that lead me into extreames where black is right and wrong is white.

as... well... me, i suppose
shots in the dark make for the most interesting photos and i take thousands of them hoping to catch you in just one frame. proving that you were there and that you existed and that this burn you have left on my heart from the flame of your own next to mine is there for a reason outside of my own head.

dangle

dangle that funk. drop down, James Brown. do the splits and shout, "take me to the bridge." it's cool. it's cold. it's frigid.

... destination: as jaded hope

anywhere, really. as long as i'm there. that's all i'm looking for. my brother has found that in his current state of infatuation and while i do feel sorry for him... part of me is so jealous to be there too. wherever, there is really. as long as he's there.

... destination: as scarlet ideals

of course i was mad.
we were supposed to end up all tangled up with my skirt pulled up and his head all doped up and it's just too bad that this is all made up.

... destination

unkown? i'd like to have a mohawk someday. but then i'd have to deal with more lesbian comments. i have enough already. i miss my friends back in maryland. the real ones. i don't feel very poetic right now... mainly because everything else around me is.

... weapon

daggers, they said her eyes were like. so original. pools of blue ice and fire, they said her eyes were like. so prolific. a window inside a soul that maybe should be kept a mystery, they called her eyes. so insightful.
but he just called them pretty... and part of her died inside.

... weapon: as jaded hope

my weapon of choice is honesty.

but not the easy, every day kind. the stuff that is left unsaid, hanging on the misconceptions of your perceptions. i say what no one wants to hear but NEEDS to hear and the power in uncovering a truth so blatantly ignored moves me beyond words.

... weapon: as scarlet ideals

my weapon on choice is fire.

heat. the flame usually coming from inside of me, sometimes between myself and the people around me, but mostly between a boy eye's and the area in between my thighs.

small

I crawl across the cobblestone floor and fall through the small cracks between the stones into a universe unseen

include

include the diluted deluded aftereffects of a tuna overconsumption. mercury. hg. feel the toxic metal accumulating in the brainstem, feeding psychosis of neurosis by devouring the central nervous system.

include

include everyone in your reindeer games. dont make fun or have fun or be any fun, just be sure that no one goes home crying. in clude with this, bad advice from my mom.

duel

bring it. you choose the place and I choose the weapons. you choose the alley and I choose foreheads. that's right, we're going to headbutt eachother untill one of us dies.

... 20

when good trash cans go bad.

our first poem: 071205

our lines will be in bold.

expecting something different, this thousandth time
but always finding the same, relieved and disappointed
i shamble back to the darkness
i shamble back and slump down
and think of what might be if something different came
this comfortable mess i have made for myself
this uncomfortable feeling ive found.
i walk not alone in this darkness
i walk with the other broken souls that came before me
i can learn from their mistakes, grow from their failures
but how can i prevent, my own soul from making mistakes,
maybe i cant. i shouldn't. i need them to grow...

...

beauty reveals itself through means unknown, not of...
visual vibrancy of decrepit decay by way of inverse comparison

...

in a one man game of Texas Hold Em you can only cheat yourself.
so take me and use me up
or bluff everything you've got in a suicide move
capitalize this game with your poker face
your lies only look real because you've convinced yourself.

... seize

the day? the moment? the opportunity? because it definitely is there. whispering. hinting. suggesting that you are being silly for not taking the time. making the effort.

glory waits. a shame it isn't impatient.

... apparent

i wish that i could just lock eyes with you and know that you knew what i couldn't manage to say but felt so strongly that it just drips off of me onto you and that we could share so much from such a simple little thing but it really all comes down to the fact that you. just. don't. get. it.

apparent

apparently you weren't paying attention. otherwise your wise-ass self wouldn't be flying across the hood of my car. you're fucking lucky that I don't back over you once or twice for good measure.

call

post your digits and finger the pad tip-type over the numerated keys and press the buttons but not hard enough to actually make the call because sometimes such calls are tough to make

... call

karma is such a bitch. could you please just give me ONE word that does not have to line up EXACTLY with my current state of being? can you please NOT feed this infatuation that is brewing in the back of my head and in between my legs?!??!

dirty slut.

... befriend

love me. learn me. taste me. know me. break me. take me. leave me. underestimate me. just don't yell at me when i never call you back and i promise that i will rarely forget

... to.

new games??

so this sexy bitch i know is responsible for creating a few other online challenges in addition to our beloved oneword.

i've avoided them thus far because you have to register for typekey in order to participate. and well... that was just too much effort.

until now, anyway. poetc and onecaption are actually worth signing up for yet another online account that you will never remember or really use. i'm serious.

so yeah. let's play.

... reaction

looking for one. hoping. aching. begging for it to be real. genuine. something different.

i just want to do something to you. help you grow. and i want the same in return.

challenge me. please.

... inconsistent

constant. never. only on occaision. when i least expect it. sometimes. every other time i try. when i want it bad enough. when he is lonely enough. when the timing is right. when my eyes are closed.

is this all a dream?

inconsistent

in constant flux is a state of inconsistency. vibrating colors of clarity. each a bubble rising up from the sea. into the abyss of eternity.

... hometown

trapped. voluntarily home grown, fed and bored to tears of this place. so comfortable and stable because i am used to it. i expect it. i can handle it because i have my whole life.

it's time to fuck myself up a bit in NEW ways.

... own: take three

i'm taking ownership of my idiocy. i'm admitting that i'm scared and that i'm lonely and that i have been putting all of that before my responsibilities as a friend.

all i can say is that i'm sorry and that i'm trying. i really am trying.

... own: take two

just fucking own up to it, already. everyone knows that you've been lying about this since, what- february?!

it's not cute. it's not dramatic. it's acutally rather dull, predictable and boring.

wait. maybe that's why you don't want anyone to know...

... own

copyrights don't mean anything. like sequences of words can be a possession. something that belongs to you rather than the collective consciousness that most people seem to live day by day without acknowledging let alone appreciating and don't ever tell me that i said it first or that you never said it at all.

... hush

keep them secrets, boys and girls. don't let anyone know.

don't let anyone know how much you are scared. how bored you are with them. how much it kills you to watch this.

shhhh.

... current

the current state of affairs does not exist.

because as soon as you attempt to describe or explain it... your new awareness and perspective changes it.

... brick

bold, burnt and rough. piece by piece we build these walls around our hearts, our fears, our dreams, all of our vulnerability is hidden beneath this chalky and brash covering. no one even likes the look of the things but yet we keep building. keep building.

keep piling the shit on top of itself.

convenience

convene and connive in secret solidarity. move the pieces to your convenience.

... convenience

relationships are always a matter of. demographics. location. timing. whoever is closest. whoever talks first. whoever is willing to open themselves up and make that connection.

that's all love is. a matter of convenience.

... fabric

sewn together, piece by piece and thread by thread turning and twisting around each and every one of us lonely dreamers trying to create something bigger and better than each of us as tragic individuals and i wrap myself up in this cloak that seems to hide me from everyone and everything and remember what it was like when i didn't feel so alone.

... direct

my intentions and words were always this way with that infinite "he." it's a shame they are never any match for me. and that i trample over their hearts... leaving them broken and still longing.

and leaving me
still to be

... alone.

spare

spare my life. take it upon yourself to ease my the pain that you insist upon inflicting. this may not be a physical death. no. but it will be an emotional death, if you refuse my pleas to stay.

... spare

i don't need the details at all... but lord do i love them. being able to piece together a more complete mental image really does solidify all of the random, fleeting thoughts the imagination can come up with.

... surface

it's all hiding right below the surface of my everyday interactions with the people in my life. some sub-plot. some mystery to uncover. some puzzle to solve. then i'll understand it all and maybe even be happier and better off. maybe.

but what if the hokey pokey is what it's all about?

... blender

mixed drinks. limes, lemons, cherries and all the other cute touches we add to our alcoholic escapes. summer time. poolside. tanned bodies that make me feel bad about my white, freckled stomach.

it's only july 5th and my summer is over.

blender

sunday morning I was washing the blender... actually, it was more of a rinsing with a quick wipe down... and I jabbed my right ring finger down upon the vortex blade. It sliced deep into my fingertip and underneath my fingernail.

... urge

we gently urge you to hold onto the guard rail as you are gliding through this tunnel. we more actively encourage you to hold your tongue as you bite your bottom lip, avoid eye contact and contemplate the floor. please.

it will be better for everyone this way.

... wary

of leaving? maybe.

but in the same sense i am wary of staying. never knowing. never living. somewhere else. anywhere else. the signs are all there. the need is there. the means, the opportunity... everything.

but the fear and doubt... it's still there too.

... widespread

horizons drip and leak all over me as i look through the thousands of miles of places i dream of yet refuse to make my reality and my panoramic view is ruined by my own insecurities. someday i'll look without longing. i'll look with satisfaction that i made them mine.

* i was first on this one! yay, me!

... appeal

the thought of giving up on love really does not appeal to me. really it doesn't. but i know that deep down, this is what i have to do. i have to push it out of the forefront of my brain and make some fucking effort in regards to the other things i want out of life. if you do what you really love... the love should follow.

... know

"i know, i know, i know."

"you always do this! it's not cute anymore!"

"well... if you KNOW i'm just going to be this way, then why don't you just stop getting your hopes up that i'll change and find someone who will do everything your way."

"i don't know."

model

perfection to scale. we strive and we fail. pounding each nail. with each clumsy stroke. the nail bends and pokes. the model broke.

... model

a long time ago i vowed to dedicate my life to magic and the intangible. i sought out the moments of light and love and silly things... and still do. i model my dreams. my world. my heart.

all after you.

box

jab, jab, hook, side step, bob, right-cross. box in the shape of a box. left foot step forward. right foot step forward and slide to the right. bring left foot in, too. step back with right foot. step back with left foot and slide it to the left. slide right foot left, too. repeat.

... repel

fight me off. protect yourself against me and my kind. your negative energies and boring excuses do nothing short of repel me across the room. i can see it in your eyes, though. how you want nothing more than to be close to me...

but you just won't let it happen.

puppet

I'll gram my hand straight up your ass and move your mouth like my little sock puppet. Say what I want you to say and do what I want you to do. You can not exist apart from my hand.

laser

I send thoughts to you in laser-like pulses from the flashing red terminus of an optical output cable that jacks straight into my cerebrum

soggy

soggy piece of tiramisu / froggy coming after you / wet piece of pie ala mode / get away from the tiny toad

... generation

gaps in between. they make everything so hard. family is so hard.

... thin

thin lizzi? proudly, no...

full. alive. thick, strong and hard in some places. squishy, soft and cuddly in others. my body reflects my life.

and i like that.

... upright

nothing seems to stand up straight anymore. everyone is bent. crooked. beyond repair. because if we tried to straighten it back, the weak points would snap and then what would we be left with?

a bunch of broken pieces of things that never lived up to their potential in the first place...

wild

wildly whipping and whirling and wheeling. frantically tapping and touching and feeling.

hidden

in front of the sky, in front of the clouds / in front of the light, in front of the shrouds/ i see the mystic clarity / the reflection of the hidden sea

... bubblegum

chew. chew. chew. smooth out over tongue. press through teeth. purse lips. blow. go crossed-eyed.

pop.

flush of heat to the cheeks. quick swipe of the hands. i'm sure no one noticed.

... zeal

what an ugly word. almost as ugly as your face. i can't think of anything positive to say about it. i'm sure it can serve its purpose, but i'm going to avoid using it out of aesthetic principle.

... vary

ok. this time we'll change it up. maybe we will get a different outcome.

socially experiment with the lives and relationships you develop without consciously knowing the damage that is done just to test a hypothesis you don't want to know the answer to anyway.

... sight

big eyes. he had such big eyes. you'd think that he'd see more than the rest of us. that somewhere, in those glassy pools of blue... there'd be more.

but there wasn't really anything. just a bigger bit of empty.

... check

a series. with balance. keep yourself together. do your job and remember to always buckle your seatbelt. squat over public toilets. show just enough cleavage without looking like a slut. play it smart. never let them in.

i call bullshit.

... pattern

find a boy. make sure he's a challenge. be your charming self. get inside. fuck him up. fall in love. cry. make him cry. say you're sorry. rinse. repeat.

metaphor

metaphor isn't like a meta-tag. a metaphor is gamera spreading his mothy wings and taking literary flight

shy

shy? fly around the corner and hide. inside where you can't be found. sounds give you away. stay quite and don't breath

... dearest

mommy can i please stay close to you through all of this? i remember when i used to crawl up inside your arms and feel so safe. nothing feels like that anymore. nothing at all.

iron

feel the iron bar clinched in your fists. the nubs of texture providing non-slip grip. lift the loaded bar of the floor. let out a grunt and roar. you have deadlifted 315-pounds and it feels good.

warn

warnings of distant concern echo across the chasm of my conscious. the corpus callosum that separate left and right hemispheres. the echoes fade and the lack of warning is more ominous than the warning itself.

strung

I hung strung like a dead rotting rabbit ready for the stew pot.

lid

take the top of the small goat head and go ahead and get fed by removing the lid to reveal that which is hid... den in the chicken coop where the goats are fed

web

spinning spinning like a spider dangling from her assward spinnerets... she decends and frets about the journey down down to the solid ground

... mirror

who's the fairest?

i was told i need to own it. to love it. embrace it.

don't i already do that? do boys just say that to every girl they see because they think we are all so lacking in self esteem and self love?

why do other girls feel the need to constantly tell me i'm hot and not fat?

am i the only one who looks in the mirror and LIKES what they see?

...

physical appearance pisses me off and is a total waste of time and space. ugh.

mosaic

a grand masterpiece of shattered shards of sharpened shame splattered against the shifting backdrop of senility stealthy sleep

... stitch

i wish that my heart needed to be sewn back together. i see all of these people walking around with the stitches still visible through their chests. deeply wounded. still recovering... well. maybe not wanting to recover.

my heart just seems so boring in comparison.

instruct

instruct destruct deconstruct reconstruct firetruck flyingfuck and beat me with a dead duck until I run out of luck

wax

early in the morning my consciousness waxes like the crescent moon evolving into a fully lit ball of white mooniness. and like the moon, the light of my mind, as it awakes, cast increasingly brilliant moonshadows against the back of my skull.

... concept

trying to conceptualize everything that your heart is trying to accomplish inside your brain is no easy task. a shame that with all the intelligence our minds may have, we can't seem to understand the raw power of that incessant "thump thump."

______

this one surprised me. i never really know what i'm going to get before i press post... so reading it "published" over there at oneword can really knock me on my ass sometimes. the fact that these thoughts exist inside of me without my prior knowledge is inspiring- yet frustrating all at the same time. it makes me wonder if i took more time to randomly write and associate things...

well. maybe my brain would come to understand more of what's beating deep in the core of me. the subconscious is a brilliant and overwhelming idea. especially when taken in the context of jung's "collective." this is one of those times where i think i might have made a bit of a connection.

tapping in. yet feeling tapped out.

... deal

"we don't make deals like that around here. i'm sorry lady... but this is a serious business."

"oh please. every table has something going on underneath it."

"yeah... and in my bar... the only thing is a game of footsie."

deal

deal with the repercussive consequences... good or bad... reaping only the good ones and leaving the bad is missing half of life.

we interrupt this almost dead weblog with a few special announcements:

i liked where this site was going. i liked how different we all were and how we showed that the simplest thing (like one word) can be felt in so many ways.

but we aren't doing that anymore. hell... i doubt half of us are even reading this thing. so i cleaned house. if you hadn't posted in 2 months... i removed you from the blog. please, as my previous post discussed: don't take it personally.

if you have any desire to become an active member again, please just let me know and it's all gravy. i'm sure a few of you won't even notice that you've been pulled.

it's time to evolve... and i look forward to see what, if anything, this turns into.

if you aren't a current (or former) author and you are interested in joining, drop a note. and even if you are just reading... a note would make my day too. i don't have a counter or stats system for this page, so the possibility of these words being read by others is quite the mystery to me.

... personal

maybe i've just been taking things too personally. we all want to think that everything in this existence really IS all about us... but maybe it isn't. realizing you aren't as important as you'd like to be is just another reason to feel offended. vicious. vicious cycle.

interrupt

the hunger is ever-present uninterruptible. feed me what i need. nutritious. delicious. non of that quickie, processed crap. i want substance.

erased

take the back end of your mental pencil and erase the psychic demons sketched in shaded graphite tones... for that is all they are

stand

I sit all day at this vapid terminal, staring into a void of electrons and binary bits that have been gelled into something discernable.

incredible

the vastness of my ego can be quite incredible. sometimes i pause and think, "hey, I better humble it up a bit so that I'm more approachable to Joe Average."

... tossed

tossed and turned upside down so that my hair falls up to the ground below me and it makes me wonder if flying can make me as dizzy as you do.

slept

I blinked an eye and slept a second that turned into minutes and hours and years and decades. I woke up only to notice that I had blinked my life away and death was one last blink away.

... sweat

i wanted to sweat out all of it. just push a little harder, rock your hips a little faster and make sure you keep everything tight. control your breathing and listen to your heart beat and if you wait patiently you'll feel his quicken to match yours.

pay

bring the pay or bring the pain and what I say turns to rain as the new day is more of the same

local

locate the pebble-sized grain of soul. that's all you have that tiny little soul. lose it and screwed, any bid for cosmic immortality forfeit.

... local

this pain is a local one... small and comforting; it feels like home. i hope to keep it caged. to keep it in this one aching heart. for if it spreads i fear for the world.

fuel

feed me. fuel. I need to feed. I need to feed on food for fuel. fuel that feeds me.

sneaking

tiptoe sneaking from one room to the next. each step hovering timidly above the hardwood floor, asking permission and pleading not to creak too loudly.

worth

worth... subjective. it's only worth what someone is willing to pay for it. what about me as a human? can I put a $ amount on me. what am I willing to pay for myself?