Written in a stream of conciousness...
My name is Dylan Monroe.
"beauty is... i cant really say. A still life is beauty to me. So many things are beautiful. if i could fall in love, that would be beauty- but i can't."
MM
I spend some days writing love letter to the loves I am yet to have had, rather than to the lovers that I have in the present.
Tangerine jelly'belly's remind me of when I was a kid. Everything was so much more simple as a child.
I've always tryed to figure where I fall in a group, What roll I play in a social atmosphere, who I am to everyone else.
More recently I've come to realise that I am that person who anyone you've ever loved has tryed to make you jealous of. That person your lover has cheated on you with or made you hate from long before the moment of meeting. I am anyone anyone has ever used to hurt you with. I am the one who everyone has Wanted you to see, but never wanted you to here because silence is a virtue and the virtuous always come to be victorious.
Im All of those doubts in the back your mind when walking into a situation. Its a terrible thing to claim but fact overrules fiction and though you may find an ugly connotation to follow that lable, evaluate the people involved in these life changing situations and realise that when my belief that any kind of attraction or love is possible and then it is completely shattered for the sake of someones trying to make someone elses heart ache. You'll realise that there is no feeling so empty than that of the person whose love was told to be falseified before the feeling could have ever orriginally arrisen.
Its strange to think that that who you call your baby is simply your eyes icon of momentary lust and in all reality is just as simply lusting for you, and as easily so for someone else (who of wich anyone can identify but never speak the words) .
When time allows everyone to fallwithin this same circle of friends and somehow though we know how ones actions will affect anothers we allow this route to be taken leading to that same downfall.
This is no longer about love, or lust, but instead about that series of events that contributes to a longer story. A story wich each of us is compelled to wright. Sorry if this story is that relovling around a series of triengles, or squeares or just circles, but we all know that they result and end in that same beginning place and though we like to believe we grow and change from these the reality is that we find comfort in the things we are familiar with and rather than learn, we choose to follow these same familiar situations and are only (as we choose onlookers to believe) fazed less and less by the series of ever reocurring events. All we can ask for is forgiveness, but the only person we need to ask for it from is ourselves.
I can't pretend to feel sorry for anyone I've hurt along the way. I already know that I've given fare warning to those who choose to be involved, and for anyone to expect for this cycle to be any different than the last is completely ignorant. The only person you can feel sorry for is yourself but in that game there is only as much losings as there is winnings and if you find that for the sake of comfort you are content, so be it.
And its a story that might bore you, but you dont have to listen because I always knew it was going to be like that.
I've never doubted myself. I've just dissagreed with my reality.
I don't speak mindlessly wich can often be missenterpreted. I am not what you think of when you visit California but who. When you go who made your trip complete. You can sit in a room with angels and look at she and I for hours and never get bored. Such things so pretty to wach and be amused by. "Movement in motion". See one thing turn into something else through eyes you never were taught could be your own. Your trip is completed.
I don't have a body wich is that of a stone greek god or that wich is the image transfixed into todays mass media. Try a cold changing room backstage a well lit isle of image and flashbulbs. That of wich rots societys perception of how looks should be and how moreso to make it that way. I'm not "perfect". Not by my standard anyway. And no one ever will be.
I love people who contradict themselves. Hypocritical people who say things like "love those who love you" when they know the people they hurt the most are the people they love. Show me something I've never seen before. I am not a Proto-type, I am the real deal, a first, an original. I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not. I won't flinch, or trip, or stumble over the curb as you run to cop-a-feel. I get the same satisfaction as a pornographer waching his star sign a release form. We've all signed a part of us away. We all have regrets. But I don't. Its Black and white like an old time film. I often find myself in the grey. In the dark with a white vail to hide my flaws. Or maby its so I don't haveto clearly see yours. As if the dark wasn't enough.
I am proof that Beauty lies in what you see
but
Looks can be decieving.
Years ago I was a different person. I actually had my eye on someone else that night. She is now married to a senator and has four kids. I think its funny how time sorts things. I would have taken her in my arms and undressed her slowly with precission. Ive always been a big heartbreaker. It probably wouldnt have hurt.
I always knew it was going to be like this. The only difference between Martyrdom and suicide is press coverage. I just get the feeling my life lacks momentum. Like everything is moving by so quickly that time just seems to stop. Sometime I cant believe the shit that spills out of my mouth. So While I talk about god knows what, I let my eyes drift across the room, and while my mouth allows you to sort through my thoughts like your weekly pill planner, I imagine the things in life that never were and all the things that could have been.
A great numb feeling washes over me, as I let go of the past and look forward into the future. I seek out my natural predator, I dont really need to seek because its who I am, an emotional preditor. I just kind of expect it. That I was born this way. That I feed off of other peoples real emotions . . . Search for this nights prey. I, Tall and dark . . . Ive conquered the world. And you see it in papers and on television. Every time you look into my eyes youll see that same silent movie actor. I am best, second to no one.
Ive never been the competitive type so jealousy has never been an issue. And why would it be? Luck has nothing to do with it. Everything is preordained. You can stop time from happening no more than you can will the text in a cold religeous piece of mans fictional liturature to re-write, than you can for that, just dissapear. I write neither lie nor foe. Luck has nothing to do with anything.
I cant remember the last time I had sex sober. I think why not? Rock and roll. Were still so young and desperate for attention . . . I Live fast and ill Die Young.
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