I eat the dreams of children who are lost

This little boy, no taller than about a couple of feet he walks up to me and holds out his little pale lobster hands and he calls out to me with a sound I could not even begin to describe.

The organ grinder is still and the sky is glowing lavender. My harpschiord no longer makes the right sounds, cat screams pouring out of the hyperventilating rat. Looly loo this purple shark floats above us waiting for the next patient to dance into the emergency room. He bites my knit cap off and I am without conscience

I don’t think I want to eat the dreams of children anymore.

(another transcribed from my illustrious art history notebook)

first I eat CAKE

then i fuck cats. lots of pussy. in dark alley ways andnight skys under hot parkinglot building ehcoeing cement. easy niquil induced sleep brings me closer to god. cake has frosting so sweet my gums bleed. eating up the whole of the world. tendrils seek out the jelly filled middle of the world. All is calm. all is chaos on the moving train. the surge of the desert is deep but the ocean is swift. wail song lingers in my mouth brine drips over my lips the seas of the sky are parting. cinamon expanses heave and roll life-like and slithering like so much kneaded bread. The earth is only the shell of a snail we oze and slime and breath through our sides yellow cheese cake, corn bread and slime. easy waking dreams collected like so many out dattted magazines. we are the best. the worst. here is our last great monument to sodomy our last indulgence. I always chew the host. Its one last waking moment before the earth howls and your brain shuts down. One last shining pictograph before sleep.

ambrogio loerenzetti
-presentation at the temple: consult and share journey man
-allegory of good governement
bichorna tablets
-book covers. closing report for end of elected term.

(Transcribed unaltered form my art history notebook again)

Street smart copy cats eat ten pounds daily checate cheese crescendos spiraling back across galaxys a the apex of the halogen colider in the fine art of conversation traped in the aperature of the single note piano each cream filled orange blooms in the light of the night of actual antiques mysteries humming and churning like so much stomach chyme. rolling and gasping like two lovers spawning deep throaty tendrils grip like summer's last breath bask in the never ending waterfall of lush green heart of the mormon makes love to a cadalac. the engine heat beyond the pass of the first endevors lays the realm of saturn. orange shinny motled clay against the black. Dost did cross an albatros stricken with disentary and mold. Made true by the knashing of teeth and evil sperm filled mumified popes. each long cross section of brain showed sign of decay and every time she spoke the air shook with something like broken glass and lies. Dark broody caves of guilty habit stare with beedy orange eyes. Small teeth that eat fingers who like a snake engorged flesh under scales and tight. each angel sings in teh shower.

(there is a small sketch of humping bunnies at the end.)

(transcribed un-altered from my art history notebook; spelling anomalies and all :3)

Her of hearts of valeintino where for art though arlecchino. the face of my sorrow is the low bearing willow laden with pine cones. Fresh, unatural, sweet smell of pine and weeping branches. can you tell me where my love has gone where my deep teen angst has left me now that it is gone. Apathy lodged in the side of a cowboy's head. A mother singing soft things in the night. the soft whale song of the city promising sex breathing deep poison and sloshing heavily of bile.tendrils in the earth sing and resonate slowly of warmth and cute boys never fucked. they sway and moan like so many soft reeds in the miniture wildlifepreserve. feeding rats cocain in the summer rain. needing nothing for protection. needing no one never. need love and finding none. Even il capitano deserves love. even he deserves. I am the end to the means of the last desert highway. After me there is nothing after me and before me. there for the grace of god go I. Over mountains and hill. through valleys spilled with Quils and ink and well hung senior shows. I walk I walk I walk till fingers bleed and mountians talk ia m a warrior of sodemy of guentletted Joan of ARCS and sock monkeys. even I don't know what that means. I am not for the fiant of heart. I make weak hoys cry and the strong pay no heed. I am the cold rush of wind after a funeral I am the forthcomming pitcher for the pope's only duaghter. I am blue, green, bright light testing all bounds of neo nazi thinking I am buhda a pun on my throne. I am the last of the mohegans.
the sun is bright but I am so very dull. the earth is cold and sometimes I feel very alone.

upday

today we packed a van with boxes
for a trip taht will take hours, almost
nine, if we're lucky, if that's what we're
going for.

we have a place to live, and its walls
are purple, and lavender is growing
outside.

i am waiting to become famous. hopefully
i will hear back soon.

Roots

Uproot again. Tear away, replant. The roots, they'll grow, they'll find what they need, and you'll have to fight against "out of sight, out of mind."

Think of a shooting star that youve seen in your lifetime. Any one of them, just pick one.
What was your wish when it fell? Did you ever think it would come true when you wised it? HAS it come true?
Now think of its duration. A blip in time, and its already faded, lost, making you lie waiting patently for your next wish.
Did you ever, while watching, wonder as to whether these stars are falling towards us, or away from us? Are they finding the wishers? Or are they trying to escape from fulfilling our hopes and dreams? Do you think this would have effect on the past wishes that have already come and gone?

Does your attitude about that star affect your attitude of the next?

Does if make you wonder about the rest of the shower?
Whether THAT one was the best or merely and appetizer?

What happened at the end of your meteor shower? Didnt you linger outside for any last surprises; hopes that youd get a secret showing when all others had lost faith and interest? Or did you duck out early because of the cold? The best showers are always in the coldest, harshest conditions Ive found.

I? I linger. And now, my wish did not come true.
But it was one hell of a star.

perpetual motion

I'll be by the river as much as I can. With the bugs and birds screaming and the water roaring. I'll sit there sweating in peace and quiet letting my world course through my head.
And i'll wish you were there.
We could scream with the bugs and bird. We could roar back.
We could talk about our worlds.
Discuss lives
But you're too far away.
So I'll sit there, by the river, by myself.

Ill miss the indecisions. the way we never spoke to anyone and complained how crowded everyhwere was even if there were only 150 people on campus at a time. Ill miss how alone we feel when we cant get a moement to ourselves. I might even miss the fights, the unspoken arguements that should have, but never happened. I'll miss the noise, sit in my room in silence and thinkj " wow, its really over. what next?" and no one will be with me to sympathize because we'er all on our ownm we always have been. And I knoew that this means little to many, but I dont care, because this is what we're here for, like a planet fitness for the mind, and we;ve got lifelong memberships. So judege or dont, I dont care. I dont feel guilty for anything I may have done, I dont regret any decisions I've made over the past 4 years,, Im now starting to see how it ALL strung together, I believe fate is what you make it to be, and Im making mine positive. somehow.
I felt bad for a while that I wasnt leaving a legacy or anything behind. Thats still true now, but what could I have done? We never speak aloud our thoughts until goaded, or until its so pent up in us that we need to expel. Everyone here knows about the need to expel...
I'll miss the lost opportunities, the lack of goodbyes, the times we needed a good drink but were to busy to be bothered. I'll miss that time where we never hung out when we should have. And I wish sometimes we werent hanging out when we did.
4 years come and gone, and like highschool its all over/. I havent spoken to anyone from highschool since graduation, and Im sure and worried that its a repeating cycle.

Being an adult

i realized today that I'm all grown up, looking up my nostrils
in the mirror and finidng nosehairs up my nostrils, mirrored
back at me nosehairs. It's a little gross to think about. It's a litte
gross considering how they can tease out, twist, curl, tangle up.

I realized I'm grown up when my friend told me he wasn't coming
back because he had been kicked out. I realied that I'm grown up
because that didn't happen to me. And I'm sorry that it did to him,
but I'm glad that it didn't happen to me, because I worked for it
and, well, I'm ashamed of that, and that is, I'm told, what being an adult is.

Visuals for the beast

Why are we fascinated with the gruesome? Sea Monsters, Horror - blood, guts, ghosts and their dusty, moldy, gooey bones? I cut my finger a little over a month ago and was close to fainting - it hurt so bad and took forever to stop bleeding - but i wanted it to stop so I could see the tissue underneith - somehow I thought there'd be more texture more sinew. Mangled bodies and cruddy crusts of bottom ocean dwellers (and glacier-formed lakes), skeletons and supposed spirit shadows. Of course the answer is instinct and carnal however natural, I'm not sure I'm proud of that part of my curiousity.