so Here we are yet again, my tramps and dears alike, the day of days. friday the 13th and no Voorhees in sight. taking my place in the human race without being shy about it, and without the definite affinity with melting objects. the brain drains the pan dry, stepping out into the light, and the flickering display that consciousness has made me imperatively aware of first hand. what is luck, eh?… unlucky in life, unlucky in nearly every other aspect of living, but why the urge to move anyway? sometimes the motion kills remains of aches and seething hatreds that bury themselves under the skin, to stay active makes the blood flow into those warm places. a crutch for the unwary perhaps, but always with the sophisticated tone in ambivalence for reality working towards a progressive end, consistent …
but it is my highway the highway men the highway brood the highway stream the highway hypnotism mocking adjustments to mirrors and seats. of course you’ll be uncomfortable. it’s summer time on the coast and your AC sucks the gas out. alternate. take in the view. show the road you knew what you knew.
…and business is rather mediocre at the moment.
that doesn’t stop me from purging my brain hemorrhages all over this blank space. sometimes it takes awhile to come up with more material, but don’t let that perturb you, if you like a certain tale watch it because I always go back and revise the tissue that makes up the story. visions always seem to be changing on me, and new ideas show up on my doorstep without warning. patience is always rewarded, though, and my stories will be no exception. that is why they fit into the on-going sub-category Here. for now, there is going to be time enough to work on everything you see Here, my friends. whether you love it or hate it, there is no reason to just give up on it, but that is always going …
a love tale between two cross-country friends as they take a long drive towards nowhere in particular, but what of the state of their romance?
read the words and words become more… they echo through head and body in interesting cohesive combinations, and drift into the real plane by will alone, the momentum of thought and the ideas created therein… to me, the greatest and loosest connection of both archetypes is the musician, and sometimes power can be taken for granted by so few… this leads to suicide by meme, the ideas can be immortalized beyond the bodies that transport them to the surface, and sometimes we are crippled by having nothing to say to each other… all aspects are aligned, and to conjoin oneself to the true self is splendid and miraculous… however, being told what to do does not lead one to this destiny, but the ends are always the same just as we are all one and the same to some …
it fails us, these imperative wishes to achieve a certain plateau of emotional worth, and we feel at a loss… or at least, I do… love and the betrayal of kneeling before the frequency of sensation, an altar of understanding, and portraying the id in its natural forms… what is mankind and the value thereof?… are we scared to realize the potential sacrament?… giving of ourselves, of our sensate placements underlying the individual integrity, making us who we have become… affecting the smoke and mirrors that encircle us… thoughts turn from the blasphemous to the mundane and back again to pornographic exultations… there are too many days in lonely contemplation, and eternity becomes the twisted prism, reflecting the divine light into deformed Technicolor… the remote control over selfless puppetry trying to live a life born from dreams as we …
time is of the essence, but I remember nothing of being born again… the crude matter of getting home was tiring my thoughts beyond compare… a turn of the wheel later, and the sour moments drift away as the door closes behind me… the compounded feelings of satisfaction and sensory overload were consuming a place that I could not lie to, the part of me that was not yet dead, and the rhythm of my heart kicked in at gradual steps behind my movements… layers of clothing fell away as I began to reach at the knobs to the bathroom, to relax inside a warm bath, and house my hindered state into a watery mercy… it hurt to ache this bad wanting nothing more than to bathe away stressful sources of my own decay… my mind was feeling this …
half the time havoc is unkempt and gnarly, but in those other times, we find the need to make some fundamental differences in who the person we are can be… we can begin to suffer through the incredible feeling of being displaced by our emotions into another world altogether… removing our mind from our senses effectively… some suffer delusions and others still become illusions, walking and talking and waking nightmares from their own abyss… the stiff drinks help, but imply the need to decide which trail to follow first… capturing the attempt to disperse… the need for a nurse will come later in reverse, and we save the ideas of some mad visions only as we grow older… the decay shakes a leg, and these moments seem lost in the essence of fairness… social reenactments of some prophet’s dreams… …
there is no right or wrong… aspects of the ridiculous wings of faith… deceptive ends to the chaotic fine wires of peace… there is the taking of things for granted… skating on thin ice in the middle of summer… snippets of a greater piece of harmony… one that accepts the animal and the intellect… what grounds we tread that slowly creeps like vine and ivy… the surging likenesses of a darker whim that only the dispossessed find solace within… there are such sacred arts that one cannot penetrate by will alone… the Crow leads us on with flight path thrown for loops and loops as we stare bewildered at the mess made gently… the scary thoughts seem to permeate the lost souls that inhabit a material world left to our own devices… the hum between the trees floating like melody …
an abstract tale of an asshole lost in his own brave ignorance forcing himself against a world of rejection, but still misunderstanding every sign and signal that comes his way.
