manning a successful campaign.

Pen to Pearl
2005

4:38am
00 "The Hutch"

Spasms. A Timepiece. Heartbeat a tuxedolapse. feel the bloodgate? loathe further than another hemisphere. lost your wick. flame match marriage stasis. frozen nerve cell mind bath. killed a man effortless. cupped hands, water poured through fingerlegends. a cinnamon love. you left me when the tongue told collapse, no elbow stretch, a march bridge sky plane. proximity, make me love you pore to pore, the ins the outs, lose track for hours. these are your minutes. believe me: you're just fine.

my fresh skin, a blessing.

with me aside.

i'm sorry.
so,
damn sorry.

-

i just want to say sometimes that i feel so much more than any of you. nothing i write, nothing i read, nothing i listen to, nothing i watch means anything unless you are me. it will never be the same.like i'm this vulnerable emotional cortex unribbed from the cage. i had a breakdown at a diner table mid falling in love pace before it had even started to get dark. i'll never get to use these words in a skyline.

writhing in the dark
on a bed frame like
some sex starved servant
on an ecstacy campaign.

subdermal drowning. but i want it darker than this. and i want it closer than this. an interswimming collideoscope. a tidal kaleidogram from when you screamed it on through me.

a foolish potion, this. there is only time, the illusion of which is gone. but what could be worse than the glitch vermin, she lives all up on the insides of me. coughed her up this morning, the blackest of wireorgans, sapped up the colors deep down in the dregs of me. a true sight to behold: the osmosis of self.

writhing in the light
on a porcelain frame like
some lust charged junkie
pioneering the skyspace.

"don't be afraid, just keep it all in your head." languages of deep afternoon dreams, embraces that have just latched the miles. "i've been gone once i'll be gone again and the bold bold nights amount to the shaken down shaken down days." voices a lush carpet of the purples and oranges found on the fringelace of galaxies (ours, theirs, the unclaimed, the departed).

she still looks the way that she did back then.
swallowed her down, peristalsis clutching, growing hands and fingers tearing my jaw open cracking my lips. that whole gum feature, showing off the garden of the teeth, roots deep like redwoods, roots sunk deep in my brainstem.

and so often, this place is paralyzed regardless of weather. i am an aimless child SwThAoY's gWiIvTeHn uMpE..

i don't think i can explain this to you.
missing someone so horribly that you sta
rt to think it's just a funhouse, or a r
ole you're playing. you miss them becaus
e you know you should. but really, you'r
e just used to this intention. the voice
has become the portrait. i want to be w
ith her so badly but i've grown patient
and lost an expectancy. everything is
alright. i've gone down that path,
the one with me waiting for her to show
up here, or the one for me to start driv
ing, but it's not coming. i'm too suited
for this kind of lifestyle for that. an
d she's probably on the same page. the f
ear of falling out of love is based enti
rely on the subject. you find yourself f
alling apart when nothing is wrong. xxxx

it's like i never went anywhere. i want to leave and be overdramatic. i don't want to live at home anymore, i just think it's best. i want to pay rent, and be poor, and spend some money on beer and "never" do drugs. i don't want my mother or father or birthsister to walk in here and think i'm a weird kid for listening to music a little louder and typing into a bright white box, because i'm not weird, i'm just feeling something.

i want dave, rahul, carissa, new guy, old guy, stranger, to peak in and say
"it's one of those nights."

i've lost a little bit of focus here.
((and i literally thought that i was just typing about having a porch.))

i feel exactly like i did six or seven
months after a serious break up. it's b
een six or seven months since i've move
d. i'm fine, though. just fine. i'm ser
ious.

dear BONEMARROW:
made me want to feel something again, something big and indirect. large quantities of it. inexorbitant amounts. "over the top; absurd; ridiculous" even. it's not so much you it's what you represent, you fucking cliché. but it is you, and a collective compound of where you've been (the dust on your marks) and how you've handled those places (the scars you wield). one of those things that's less words, more the way the words work. [it's hard to untranslate] i have got something going on over here, with a specific purpose and direction. something is wrong with me.

illiterate bass drum.

i will be nothing but a legend of memory.
and i am full of fear.

-
"before this one night stand becomes an eternity"
VS
"one night doesn't mean the rest of my life"

-
basking in the wake of a hundred idols' creations.

-








meant every word.
just never said it.
don't listen to what he says.

saarsgard.

even though i don't think i'd ever forget,
i think i'd be okay.
it just doesn't feel like devastation.

they're only words.

i don't even know where to go from here, because there's only so much that one person can take, and trust can only go so far. it's not really the trust that's an issue, but the curiosity.

someone sent me a myspace message a couple of days ago, and i shouldn't have deleted it, but i kept coming back to it, and reading it and it needed to be gone.

the username was +, and the hometown was ", Alabama" and they were a Male, 101 Years Old. one of those.

so, the message said something along these lines:

I WOULD CHECK URSELF AND ASK UR GIRL WHATS BEEN GOING ON WITH HER AND A CERTAIN JEREMIAH AKA MOSES. IF U DONT BELIEVE ME U CAN GIVE HIM A CALL AT 3047845566 AND ASK HIM URSELF. THERES NOTHING FOR ME TO GAIN BY TELLING U THIS I JUST THOUGHT U SHOULD NO.

there was a lot more, eh, not a lot... but it was all in caps and had more of a tone that seemed helpful than angry. but that was about the jist of it. i remember the number because i wrote it down, because i was going to call, but called her instead. she seems pretty upset about the whole thing. she says she doesn't even talk to that kid, etc. then i get this tonight:

"DID UR GIRL TELL YOU THE TRUTH?? DONT WORRY IF SHE WONT WEVE GOT SOMETHING TO SHOW U UR CUTE UR SMART U DONT DESERVE THIS"

this shit is so fucked.
is it sabotage? is it a bluff? do i wait to get said information?


either way, whatever they've done, or whatever they're doing, the damage has been done. i'm just so fucked and i want to give up because of some textual words someone has written with little to no information to back it up. yet.


i don't want to do this anymore.

coming back into myself.
could be that i'm faking it well enough to get myself back in line.

sing for your lover like blood for the sun.

-
dear odd dynamic,
i keep you so close and i love you way too much to do that. you're my new achilles' heel. i don't remember what you look like when you're freezing but i know that's how i knew you when i knew you. i could have loved you when we went swimming in the fog and in the lights, but i just loved you way too much to do that.

for one year i wrote every word for you.

here's to The Future.

-

these songs do them no justice.

-

me&you,
b a b y.

as much as you could.

i'm seeing things, thinking, "what the FUCK is that??"
i hate those dirty fucks.
i just don't want to hear it.

-

i was in the middle of sending a text message that started "i still think one of the funniest damn things you said was----;" i got cut off by a phone call from some guy who wanted me to be an extra in real movies. he works for those companies that draw you in to do head shots. when he called the first time, i played a character of my editor. i told the guy on the other end of the phone that, "steve is pursuing a massive lead right now. can he call you back tonight, around midnight?" when i felt that the guy really just wanted to hangup and give up, i went on to say, "if he's really not that important to you guys, i'd probably give up now. he's a hard man to reach." all the phone voice could muster was the scripted, "well, we'll try back tomorrow morning, and hopefully get a hold of him."

and damnit, i forgot the rest of the message i was sending.

as i said earlier, i'm in a constant state of feeling that i'm going to forget what i'm going to say.

-

i wanted this weekend to change the way that i thought.
and it didn't.

i did figure out that i am addicted to this and i need to get a better grip on myself again. i'm not sure when i started completely slipping back into that. i think it might have been when i started digging too deep. seeing the kinds of things that if you say them out loud, they sound so much more inconsequential than if you let them run laps on the inside.

i did figure out that i am the reason that every romantic relationship that i've ever been in has deteriorated because of me. i am never the only victim.

i did figure out that i would like to be more committed in a healthy fashion to this relationship without a complete and total reliance on the availability of a connected voice.

i want to relearn trust.
i want to relearn the ability to be acutely aware without being completely on edge.
all the little things, the subtleties, i want them to come back.

i have some release valves. i need more.

i think if i looked back on the game day tapes of this past month, i would probably just laugh and laugh. that whole hand over the mouth, eyes wide, head shaking back and forth, "what was i thinking look." looking over to friends being like, "really?"

the response, throwing their hands out in front of them, shoulders popping up, half smirking. in my words, it'd be something like, "...happens."

it used to be i could keep myself motivated because if i felt it about myself, i generally believed it. now, it's been taking this disgusting amount of reassurance. the kind that gets you unattracted, and unmagnetised.

i think about hearing her say the things i've said to her,
being asked the questions that i've been asking her,
and i'm pretty appalled.

-

it's such a god damned shame that all this mistrust, and the belief in a sudden depressing reveal comes from a relationship that i've been out of for a year and a half. and after all that i've been through, and all that i've recovered from, all that i've built back from the ground up, i still can't shake that one bit of damage. that one possibility.

the typical story of being hurt before:
the learned defense.

-

i want to be so good.

pen pals.

i think i almost wrote two or three fictional things this week. instead i wrote nothing. that can be said for about 10 of the past 52 weeks.

this weekend didn't make anything better.
but i think maybe i got a little better at ignoring it.

barter weakness for vice.

i think i'm chemically depressed.
i'm glad i have the awareness to know that nothing's really wrong.

i have major trust issues
that i can only specifically describe as an addiction.
if i'm not worrying, i go into withdrawal and then that's when i really start to worry.

i wish i were beautiful for a day.
"do you think being attractive is a burden?"

i love words and numbers.
these are the only ways we can communicate on paper.

i'm deficient somewhere and i have a hole to fill somewhere.
this is how i ALWAYS feel.
that, and the CONSTANT feeling that i'm about to forget what i am going to say.

count twenty two minutes, and she will be here in twenty nine hours.
there has never been a trembling like this.

i've engineered the construction of a sexual monument.
now to make this something organic.
something best described as tender and genuine.
now to make this something real.

i have a hard time believing that anyone could miss me.

i caught him. the moses tart.

-- Stabilize; stabilize.

- james, we need to get this kid a new cannon. one with a longer fuse, slow as a goddamned wick. less firing on the city, little more time to detract his statements.

-- One less building destroyed, one less life refiled.

- i'm glad you're with me on this one, james. i'm glad you're with me. one week at a time, the eyes roll back. one week at a time, the kid gets the chamber. and one week at a time, he reevaluates the values he's made.

- Body count's too high, serotonin levels off the charts. A tactical nightmare.

-- you said it. what kind of progenitors would we be without this kind of self awareness? what this kid needs is a direct line of self assurance. if only such a thing could be extracted, pasteurized, liquefied, and vein-sipped through the iv. then we'd have a machine on our hands.

- The like's of which she has never seen before.

-- you've got that right, buddy.

god, if you exist
please steady my limbs.

i don't want to rend this man asunder.
his face is already bad enough.

by voice or shining light,
show me that fists is not the way to destroy what has already been destroyed.

i don't believe in a god that could steady me.
but i to draw on something sort of ethereal to not unleash on this one kid.

and thinking back, there have been people i've known to cross my path, even on a frequent basis that i have needed to functionally draw myself back from. richard gill, my arch nemesis, for example.

but i have never been around someone as frequently who brings me to such a point as consistently and without humor as he does. and having known an entire life time of not so good to average looks, i'm not one to point out "the ugly factor". but, his face is gnarled into a twist to match the way he's lived his life. and the events unfolding in his life right now show that there is some form of higher justice taking place.

but on a day to day basis, at least once, i need to remind myself to breathe easy.