"You I thought I was so in love,

Some say it wasn't true
Now that I'm older
Now, now that I'm older."

I am so lost. Lost in the wild. I am joking I am not the West of Kanye. I do not want to think of the future. I miss your writings. Lately I have been thinking of what is the point of life. I have no idea, I did not think of it that much. I wish I could be in different dimensions where you see what could have happened. Time is scary. I need to stop. I need to slow down. I need to stop.

you'll marry a music man.


if you walk up the stairs, its dark but not yet late and quiet other then the faint sound of lyrical whispers. keep going.

you reach the top and hear music and see a light comming from the the middle door in the hall.

approaching it you hear these words "Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band,

Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man" at full blast.

open the door, a room quite kept up but at the same time so misplaced, its nothing then paradoxical. books up to the top, photographs on the wall and instruments hanging from various places of the four sky colored walls. and you set your eyes on the bed.

sprawled across it, laying outstreched and outplayed is a teenage girl. maybe a lady, maybe just not their yet. her height stunted at 12 and looks like she just like just climbed mt. everest. she knows her future but doesnt know how to get there. brows furrowed and she bellows out more words but behind that


I was your silver lining

but now I'm gold.

How can I tell you?
How can I tell you?
How can I tell myself?


My bed is a boat

It drifts along as I dream.

I love you, you sway me and move me. I am like the ocean, and you the moon. Without you things will die, stiff and static. Little lives here and there. Just keep shining on me as I watch from below. I reflect you, I am vast and you, my light, will never have a night without you in me.

I can never be happy, I want to be an animal. I just want to be loyal and have kids and find food and die. They have it so easy, they do not even realize they live their life just to die at the end. It just happens for them.


Flesh feels so nice.
Soft and warm.
And the drums of our heartbeats out of tune.
It makes me wonder if everybody experiences this.
The flesh doesn't stay warm forever.
And the drums sound brassy and dull, then they stop.
everybody experiences this.



sometimes wonder why bad things happen to good people.
like really really good hearted people.
i wish i could ask God if there is some reason for it?
like if he wants to teach us a lesson,
and if so what is it?

sure enough, there is someone out there wondering the exact same thing at this precise moment.


its the weirdest sensation being lost.
its even stranger when i dont even know im lost until its too late.
i dont really know how to describe it.
it was like my body was face to face with fear, getting punched in the face by it, then on the floor having reality kick me in the stomach spitting on me saying "you dont know where the fuck you are" and once on the floor my own mind turns on me and robs me of all hope that i have until i am in the parking space of a shopping center on 2nd street 6300 N, long beach,CA. an hour and something from home.


booga wooga

i need to clean out my car
i love my car his name is bowie
hes a transvestite
from transexual transelvania
theres nothing that i really want to talk about
i just want to write
i love driving to school in the mornings
and esp at night
but i need to get down to buisneesss
and im going to get my credits down
to transfer out
by next semester
i think?
winter session
and then im hopefully out to a private
somewhere in la?
or i could throw everything out the window and just go to live in europe
i have to sing 'someone like you' from jeykll and hyde today
dkfaj;ljd the last 16 bars and its killing me
now im going to go to target
and then star bucks
with the ebnator

i am going to see parade! this weekend.


19 you're only 19 for godsake you don't need a boyfriend!

im not sad. it doesnt hurt.
i just wish i could have no holds
how unhumanly possible is that?
i want to go from city to city
state to state
country to country.
just spend some time in one place, make friends and memories and then just leave.
i cant imagine a life of just the same thing over and over again
redundant. repetitive. trite.
going home to husband and kids. going home to boringness. nope not me.
i think this goes good with who i am
like when i look at pictures and just wish i could delete them
all of them and forget.
i have never had a fucking niche.
i will never find my fucking niche.
and i like it that way.

as the day of friday.
may the wrecking of havoc commence.


bob looked up to joan
she showed him the ropes
they became friends
then lovers
then bob realized that he didnt need her anymore
she still loved him but he burned those ropes
they hated each other
bob despised her and she just turned the other cheek
he became who he was
and she stood on the sidelines were all the flowers had gone
for years and years
while he became who he is
they tried again
they were older then
and she tried so hard to be with who she was with back then
but it never could be that way again
so bob went his own way
and she stayed in hers

“Me and Joan? … She brought me up … I rode on her, but I don’t think I owe her anything … I feel bad for her because she has nobody to turn to that’s going to be straight with her …”
Bob Dylan.


the twist is

you're just like me,
you need company
you need human heat.