’til my heart’s malcontent

so many things are wasted upon you
big words of compassion and cheap perfume

it's the truth, it's the truth - i'm sure you'll read about it in the paper
but i swear to god i'm tired of hearing ear to ear, face to face, word of mouth
it's all always coming out, and about and around - around
color me amazed that the ties that tied friends are burning like yarn
and the melted wax discharge is burning a whole lot of people
when did we all become so pathetic and maniacal, waiting for someone to turn around, white-knuckling the hilt of a very sharp, very thirsty knife
you pretend, we pretend, i pretend
and i'm tired of seeing everything fall apart, people i know aren't really people anymore, they're things and those things are wild and starved for attention, starved for affection, starved for an erection. i'm sick to my stomach at the indecency of hypocrites, the gossip of secrets leaked.
fuck it, i don't like many people anyways, and i keep my friends close by. this proves to be another year worse than the one before, and i'm right in the middle of a shit snowball fight.

it’s just as simple as this...

no.
i don't want to play it coy. i don't want to play anything.
left alone is the best way i do. and leaving my general area wouldn't hurt.
i don't like knowing about past lies. and i hate that i keep hearing about them, from people you would just guilt trip me for believing.
just fucking no.




and i'm the shitty person?
at least my friends like me, and i know the shit that's said.
i'm annoying on purpose, i'm an asshole on purpose.
and generally i don't pretend, i'm not fake, i'm me.

please go die in a hole. rot and be forgotten.

more new developments on breaking news of a sociopathic liar. which isn’t me.

i think i've decided. i hate guys with neck beards, or patchy neck facial hair. i mean even more than the run-o-the-mill goatee than usually predicts you will obsess over danzig and godsmack. hey, i can sympathize. i once loved godsmack, and i think danzig is tuff stuff, although he's a pussy.
but when one let's their facial hair grow out, and they serious look like a mountain goat, it makes me wanna bust heads. now, don't think me a facial hair extremist. but shit, if you've got a baby face, keep it that way. hell if you have any facial hair on your face, that's a plus. but neck beards, make a nigga wanna kill. damn. i must stress this, son.
i'm a beard preservist. if you can't hang, get the fuck clean shaven. or the Coalition of Killer Facial Hair - the CKFC - (including the Moustacheo Madnesses) will come to your door, and burn it down (just the door) and that's a warning sign. if you still persist with your grotesquely displaced pubes we will have to kill your family, and force electrolosis on you. doom will definitely be rained down upon you in a hairless future fury.
now, to those who may have misunderstood me. i do not hate patchy facial hair, give it time. it may work. i'm just singling out the dudes with no hair on their face...or little, but a copious amount on their neck. fucking gross dudes. QUIT IT!

oh and greg, lisa lampanelli IS hardcore, you just got schooled.

well know who’s this i see?

man, i think the random kid in Say Anything had it down:
"Bitches, man, bitches."
those few words speak volumes.

robot parts aligned

it's always the worst parts we hold onto thinking that it makes us better people. all we're doing is punishing ourselves, like a needle-lined form fitting pair of pants. i've done my best and realized so much up to this point, and i can force myself the rest of the way over, i was just trying to do something i normally don't. it was called a second chance, i didn't need one this time. and apparently they didn't want it. good riddance.
i'm pretty much done on pretending to be numb. i guess it's time to cross that line.

i can transfomer, i’m a transformer, aaaiiii aaaaiiiii aiiiia aiaiaiiaaiai

i can have good days. and i can have bad days.
this good day has turned into a bad day that's just gotten shitty.
why does this randomly happen to me? it makes me wanna curse someone.
i do believe the thing that kills me the most is that i'm just so apeshit about what i don't have that i'm sure i'm missing the point of if i got it, i wouldn't really want it. i'd be miserable and stressed out even more than i am now.
when did being independent become such a fucking mess?
i don't lie. i just dislike. and suddenly things are so difficult. i guess all i can do is ignore it until sleep shrugs it off. that's why i love sleep...if only i could make it a person and marry it. i'd be happy.

carlotta valdez

i watched Vertigo last night, and Alfred Hitchcock film
&&i quite possibly have a huge crush on Kim Novak. and she was born in 1933. i feel sorta gross...but if i had a time machine...the possibilities.
i  would teach cuss words to children.

the poetry is so pure.

when was the last time you danced?
come walk with me, baby
dance with me, darling
step with me, sweetheart
the world is watching

when did we forget all this? seriously.
give it up to gnarls barkely, for real.

on a side note: i wanna be like Steve McQueen in Bullitt.
that is one B.A. mofo. true story.

the journey to the valley of the cryptid. but it wasn’t really a valley, more like woods.

I saw it! The creature was towering a full foot above the top of my own head, mostly do to it's gnarled, twisting horns. Its fur-face was grey and a dark blue-black; its ear long and pointed falling to the sides of its head. It mocked humanity with its every heaving breath, eyes staring straight forward into my own. I dare not breathe, it could use the noise to its advantage. So I can only stare back.
It shifted balance on its hooves, and I chanced a glance at the whole monster. Its top half, undeniable a cruel joke of a god with a scewed sense of humor. The chest of a man, furrier as it built to the collar bone, and the head of a pygmy goat. Below it's belly, a thick mane gathered to avert all sights from what gender it proclaimed itself, and led to the thick, cloven hooves. What part of it that was a man, obviously had seen no hygiene. The fingernails were long in places, but had caught a snag in whatever the creature mingled with. Fingertips were cut and blistered, soon to be calloused. Brown smears of what could've been shit smeared up its arms and around parts of its almost hairless torso; in this light it was too hard to see any shit caked in its fur.
I saw it wanted blood, and it intended for me to be an unwilling donor. The horrid thing let out a screech that made my ears want to detach from my body and jump off the nearest cliff, to their tiny ear-death, and leaped toward my fear-frozen body. I barely registered the movement as I was thrown off balance and fell hard onto my back, it was grasping my throat with death in mind. It sent heavy snarls oozing down the back of my throat, and I could taste its bloodlust, its crazed hunger for my head to part ways with my body. But I, your humble narrator, couldn't succumb to the desires of a mad goat-man.
I brought my knee into the monster's abdomen and it only seemed to fuel that animal rage it was currently attempting to bring down upon me. I tried to yank some fur from his goat-beard, alas, that too only seemed to upset the poor violent creature more that hinder it. Finally, I decided to take a chance, and brought my shin into its groin. Another screech beckoned my ears to bleed, and the man-goat slumped on top of me. Its heaving mouth next to mine own ear.
I pushed the mad thing from me at once, and got to my feet. I set out for a full run to my car, when I heard it wimper. I turned and stared into those bloodthirsty eyes once more, although now, they pleaded for help. It baaahed and reached out to me, like a lost child. A sense of pity rose over me, and I thought I did need to make sure it was okay, after all, it's not every day you see a goat-man, and what if I were the one responsible for ceasing the line then and there. So I walked over to the creature, now mimicking a fetus, and loomed over its twitching body. My thoughts still turned inward. Then I thought, you know what, that thing tried to kill me...fuck it.
With a well aimed kicked, I steel-toed its guts. And with this new pain, it brought its man-paws up to clench its stomach, like a retard spasm. But that wasn't all I planned on. I proceeded to land a series of kicks into its balls, over and over and over. Hearing that horrible scream again and again. Finally, when I thought the creature had paid enough for its indiscretion, I unleashed golden humiliation on its fur, marking my victory.
At this point, it lay unconscious, of course, and I could only assume that it couldn't deal with the man-pain. I turned my back to it, and walked nonchalantly back to my small car, head held high.

it waits til the midnight hour to come, to torture me for all the wrong i’ve done.

so at what point exactly can't we turn back anymore?
what's there to bring me back when i've gone too far?
i don't want anything from life but to live.
i don't want anything from anybody, i just want myself. it's not like i dislike people, and don't think that's what i'm saying.
i'm just not requesting anything from you, don't think i am.
i'm glad you are there, really.
so when can i come back around to being?