[is outside my skull]
autumn 08
highlight all of last years writing...
delete.
I AM AN IMPATIENT, BLINKING CURSOR.
found someone else to slosh around my skull for now
late one night...

i do not believe so...
nor do i insist.
recovery or rediscovery
words that do not deserve "re-"
this poorly planned, unnecessary appendage
does not occur.
feminine grievance
"you" (identification purposes)
require
reassurance
revision:
resatisfy
giving my built in bullshit detector repair man a call...
mitigate the dosage.
turning my pages so fast,
he tears the edges,
but he memorizes every word.

you cannot smoke a pen, i've tried...

late october, back porch, st. ides, american spirit
no idea the date.
evidently someone taught me to share.
alone; simplicity
vomit jealousy
furiously making my way home
to make change
to sustain
memory is all we have
it's too easy.
i was married for the first time
in a clearing of trees,
on a pile of leaves.
"i have located my counterpart"
and whiskey.
there was nothing left to drink,
the food had been eaten
as the cigarette burned out...
she realizes, she is a victim of necessity
i will share, but
there
is
not much room
left on
this page

DO
NOT

our stride is a measurement in time...
& maybe
liver failure & lung cancer are something
to look
forward
to...


(és minha rei)

documented non- memory
a word on:
jealousy...


pointless

that kind of day
patiently awaiting a halt
from the wind.
freezing rain stings your face,
but it's no use turning back.
the bartender is pregnant.

winter 08
without use
commentary on enthusiasm
"no one is anyone, one single
immortal man is all men.
like cornelius agrippa,
i am god,
i am hero,
i am philosopher,
i am demon
& i am world

which is a tedious way of saying that
i do not exist..."

borges - labyrinths, immortal

fourty two minutes after thanksgiving
maracuja
same bar as last entry...
what are we?
arms & legs
no why?
have this idea.
"are you mechanical?"
each transaction/interaction
fuels fuck. can't.

barcade. it's before nine because we can still smoke outside with our drinks.
my dead baby is named herman.

from a dupe check -
dream.
shooting through the sky.
can't stop getting no where.
seen this before, but maybe through
another pair of eyeballs.
awake carries a certain weight
all of the nonsense is rearranged.
unavoidable and absolute
destination of reality
like i mentioned, it doesn't look like much;
this happiness is blind
thse truths are absurd
yet undeniable
the sixty fifth floor is eternity.
these truths are unavoidable,
spinning and crashing on you.
you must acknowledge this.
this is no mistake.
death is human error
and absolute contentment
i don't recommend traveling
past the sixty fifth floor.




the united states of mogadish
by: matthew

my name is ebola
i am here to teach you
to reach through
the person
that was you.

the bar is empty
except a foreign man asking
if he can get his beer
wrapped up to go
i think his name is jimmy
& michael got the paper towels
epidermis assault
& i need to get drunk
eleven years.
half-life
"everything unravels & you finally know someone"
"then what?"
maybe then we end up like
jimmy
forcing himself upon a closed bar, ordering two drinks at once.
southeast asians are taking over syracuse & they're the
only ones left during winter break
nothing to do but beg for fifteen
more seconds to finish their beer.
bodies of water
and
the devolution of the diaphragm.
jimmy was misplaced.

spring 09
time.
reflection is absurd.
arguable.
disinterest.
if i had read 'a refutation of time' before LA
why if? why not?
how many variations of a perception are there?
to know is a step closer to what?
change is an effort right now.
"are you bored?"
"i am here."
just scraping these thoughts from the floor.
where i want to lie down.
where after happy is there to go?
liquid liquid liquid
liquid
liquid
you keep pouring.
we keep flowing.
no one does it the same every time.
is outside
my skull
juice.
spinal fluid.
all this entire time,
all this entire thought
amounts to an entire lifetime
ahead of outside my skull
just beyond my reach.

some
one
always
has
to
dig
the
graves

these things are not real
i feel what i do not feel.
treetop guilt

summer 09

moonlit through the trees
still drunk on my knees


08.01.10
double you's and aches of h's
- posted by angela @ 4:00 AM