Pricked Angels

I can’t write this post as a poem because everytime I start I end up getting so angry.
I hate all x’s and their x-lovers just because its a vicious cycle between men and women. Men want to always feel like their hotstuff. wanted. taken care off. n when they have a good woman and it gets monotonous they go running for different pussy. then they try to cover their tracks so foolishly so innocent girls don’t get it. But the monotony’s been feeling so good, you don’t wanna break the cycle, but there’s doubt doubt doubt…

this may sound like a diary entry because it is.. I’m sorry for all the girls out there who’ve been hurt by some dick of a guy not worth his two cents to admit he has half the balls he claims to have.


You can’t save me

Often times I think that the sweat that drips from your neck to your shoulder brow is all my fault,
I didn’t spill water on that point and neither did I lick you like an ice-cream,
Because that would be sexual and my mind is on silent,
I feel like that’s the point of silent,
It’s so silent even the very meaning of what I’m about to say won’t hit you till it does in this silent..disposition,
You can’t save me and there is no need to try the way you try everyday,
I swear by all the effort put into life you hold a beacon of strength in this world of commitment because you always stay,
The good stay and the bad move away and play,
You stay because you want to save me and like the fireman saves a victim he first contemplates,
Then he deliberates on whether death itself is a torture unto man or is life really that big of a virtue,
And then its all fuckit, life is too short and you save the victim with your virtues,
Virtue saved the victim

You can’t save me because there is nothing to save like an empty vessel I’m tin can to nothing,

The Royal Thinking Bowl

I bow my legs and focus them not to edge out as the girl walking right next to my cubicle rounds a corner and goes of into hers(which is right next to mine). And just at that moment I try to stay concentrated upon the shit I need to make, but she’s making all these weird scuffling sounds. Ah here goes, lemme listen, I can’t resist.

I listen to the same old thing going on down there, full tank-bursting-explosion-release-small sigh..tissue(where the fuck is the tissue!?) and she wipes her dry mop and leaves. Speaking of leaving, I need to leave.
The aforementioned thought lingers in my mind, yes I need to go to the spa day thats taking place in the student union and wrestle with about a million people for a massage, no, a free pen.
It brings me back to the days when I was a kid and all I could think about was getting face painted, but never really getting to the end of the line. I never got to the end of the line because the clown had a dire need to smoke a ciggie and eat some cake. I want to be face painted. I stand there lingering as I watch his clownish lines fade and a man’s mask take shape over his face- is he for real? I want my fucking face painted. I was 9

Stand up and go to the desk and ask for 3 massages Dramasque, just do it: One for your shoulders because they hurt from sleeping like a seal. Two, for the aching palms you have after writing at the speed of light in Math. Finally, a nice leg massage from snowboarding injuries. I can see the end of the line and as I expect it to be, I see about 30 people in front of me cueing up for aromatherapy. Dammnit! I look across at the next line and my feet start to move in my shoes but I tell them to shut up because I know when you leave one line it only starts getting faster as if you were the key heavyweight to the puzzle. Off load all 30 people and only 1 holds the train down. This is a really slow train to ride but I’d rather stay like fighting for a spot in a lucky winner draw.

I’m at war in the basket, I see my name scratched in there with about a million other names. I know I signed many lucky dips, I forced myself too but the more I think about it, the more I contemplate whether it was enough. Is it ever enough in a war. You fight with all the soldiers you’ve got and when their dead(which is supposed to be the restock limit) you restock and bring in more ammunition. My eyes dance around how many friends I can see in this crowd. In life, you have a few that can support you and eat shit with you. The ones who can’t eat shit with you are dining at the Hilton and signing cheques for charity cases like yourself. The more I think about it, I can’t see anybody, but if I did-I would tell he/she/he-she/or them to save me their spot too.

In war, if you can’t get what you intended to get, you go for the next best thing because what’s the use in stopping a full speed ahead train-like her piss-its explosive if you do. I’m tired again and I look at the ceiling for consolation, its neat sinewy lines only offer guidance. I am going eastward, westward, northward then southward, I will end up joining more lines and then I’m going to end up being just like the other ant lines running round and round and round. Proposterous, it is unbelievable that I can be at war and be an ant at the same time. Then, the idiot inside me goes to sleep and I know exactly what that means, Let me break it down for you as you watch me think on the toilet seat.

Life is a war of different ants, all trying to reach the top and moving at faster speeds than they can handle. One day, we will hit rock bottom and explode like hot piss and we’ll have to recover by looking for a new challenge. This war breaks us up because we rarely admit defeat and when we do were pissed and want revenge, an excuse to get back at others. Or were merely just tired like my shoulders aching more than they ever did in a line would, compared to when i first felt the pain in my shoulders. Or we give it all we’ve got and still fail-because war yields no positive purpose. I can’t challenge the basket of millions of names, they don’t know me and I don’t know them. So this final destination were going to in war-was never sacred and never will be wetter than when you first had the idea. This earth is dry with shitty causes of anger.

Thank you.
note:i wasn’t upset when writing this, just a creative thought 🙂 Have fun reading fans!


Dear Readers,

Lately, I have been away and I apologize. I fully agree-it is my fault. But with all the good things that have been happening to me lately I haven’t found the time to write and tell you how not-distressing my life has been.

Lately, I hope you’ve been good. Lately, I hope you have not missed me. And lately, keep on keeping on..

Lately, think of pictures, like me- to remember moments-like this. Nobody can feel or hear nor see what you experience. So savor life, because it is too short to be forgotten.

My walls are white, with colors painted on the inside

Damned you..damn me

I feel like an astronaut floating in my own life,
Look at me I’m flaring and i can’t stop crying out..
With pleasure..
So slow so swift pain.

I’m dancing on this moon and walking like Neil Armstrong,
Living strong,
I’m living long and nobody can stop me now..
I’m stopped now..

Break this wall that seems to be a mirage in my mind,
I can find,
The boundary,
The incline of my existence as I bind..myself,
And pray that I could jump over to heaven,
I’m in hell now,

Burning out like diesel fuel in a gas guzzling car,
I’m burning out like I’m blazing out,
Out and about,
Did you find out what to feel before I felt it?
Of course nobody hears,

Centralize on the core topic and I look into my own eyes,
So I can’t despise,
My lies,
Brought me to these why’s and cast out the what next’s,
Why next?

My next beat move is to throw you in a ditch,
You bitch!
WTF…do i look like I can flinch?
I’m asking you, u snitch so tell me the answers,
Can I ask you more questions?

Blessed be on this sacred body but it’s morbid soul is dry,
So I shall not pry,
No why,
By and by I will slice me with an axe,
Wipe sweat with a towel..on my foreahead,

Damn this is stressful!Where is the flip switch?
You bitch!
Don’t screech on brakes,
Don’t bleach the black face just hide it all in a pocket,
Reading this poem and speaking,

Holding you with both hands on either side,
Regaining my pride,
Controlling my side,
And your side won’t reflect a single damn thing,

Mirror mirror on the wall who’s the liar of them all,
Bar brawl!So small! Aren’t you a doll!
No no, fuck you all!
Fuck them all I’m bigger than this and I ain’t a liar,
But I lied

Haunted by drugs and the thugs of my life,
Live your current life!
Forget the knife,
On your throat,
Even though all the strife your in cuts us off and dies,

Mirror mirror on the wall who’s the victim of them all,
I’d like to stall,
Screaming don’t let me fall,
Watch you let go and blame,
Blame you for the break,
I broke it.

Mirror mirror on the wall who’s the special girl?
Let’s not hurl..insults..
No I’m the girl!
Didn’t i say don’t hurl..?
Goddamn this sterile equipment and shoot me,
I won’t..

Mirror mirror mirror..
Damn you for the litter,
The litter on my wall,
You seem to hog it all,
I want to scream out “where did you come from”?!
Above all, what about my prom?
Didn’t you say I looked good that day?
No need for mayday mayday mayday?
So more and more mirrors on my wall,
They all seem to want me to fall,
No more double me’s and one you’s,
Mirror mirror Damn you.