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About Me

love may save all you people but it will never save me...and you invented me with structures filtering your eyes blindness and morning steam cries:: tried to piece me together i'm not real and you are feeding on this creation winds picked up my eyelids dark dismal enchantresses counting endlessly the ways to my infinite maturing autumn you all configured me out of splinters and shards of the throne lodged in the massively studied walls of my throat nothing more but fragments and thorns piercing eyes glazed over with dissent and cynical pride an organ in my chest moves my ribs in and out it pulses faster and faster luike a crescendo of pain flickering fingers against ivory and onyx :: feeling the faintness of desire as it squeezes against my ribs racing against an angry collection of cells washed over with your eyes all of you and your sacred goodbyes weather patterns slowly shift clouds leak out pummeling rain lightning weeps from their thin membranes cracking against the surface of your faces i hate you all i cut you with knives i 've sharpened i cut you to pieces i've sharpened their edges with your words and your assault on my being i hate and hate agony fills my body the musty caverns air cleared and flooded with the stagnant sludge of posthomous life written in fear and regret the sun setting was never reflected in your eyes any of yours comfort? your egos swim in the air with eternity and will to survive and preside above all beings that function due to the torment of others and i lost i lost with addictions deprivaton i am ripping this body apart wishing it was yours i'm left with my knives and lack of dreams i'm trying to rinse you off :: water gasoline pungent stenches mix scrubbed till i burn not with pride but with the agony of lowly misdirection it blisters with rashes breaking out my dreams are of death SUICIDE loathing this existence tears and through cynical pessimistic gloom these days pass and the storms come and go as crows eyes blink and their heads twitch with the defeat of spring watching things grow as he grows to die ________________-------------________________FOREVER... watch my back convulse as i scrible out these words dream on i watch your eyes turn from one side to the other blue oceans contained warm summer afternoonsky... dream until you are running through thickmud up to your knees cars line up on both sides mating the sirens with hissing of tires driving off into the void...so you are welcome... in the wet intereors... i have fallen away frommyself fallen in love again i swore it off like cigarettes or coffee(whichonlylastsadayortwo)... it seems solong ago when i(mylusts) gnashed at the tendrils connecting me to another person.. the pulpy bits fell to the floor the flesh of it peeled back the bone and tendons took some work the surface tissue was easy it was ten years of spiralling circuitry of bone and sinew...thats what took the most work... the sharpest of my teth cracked my gums receeded in a forever state.... you watched in your dreams as i spent night after night repulsed by the infection digging at the green scabs and ashy scar tissue.. blossoms of springtime decay flowerbeds fruitful with dreams sacrificial ortaments of 3am cab rides down nowhere streets to nowhere hotel rooms with nobody people or a nobody person stars blotted out by parking lot security lights they became my stars in the synthetic lust that had engulfedmy spirit... youu watched me you remembered every moment the way you wanted to... the litte painting of me inside your head each brush stroke another interpretation... that picture was painted by your hand not mine so remember.... you remembered me the way you wanted to , the way it made you comfortable to remember....th sweat pours offmy brow in the 7am rush hands smoldering with last nights filth caked-on small squirming children scared of punishment frightened of their parents loud crashs on their rush to work in their daydreams they wished tose noises away with clinched shut fists and eyes... they made them into quiet clanks of metal like small chiming bells off in the distance...the rotting crow corpse... in the time before the cars start before sleepy eyed red with disgust riddled with anguish work forces put in their twlve hours of 16 thEn go home eat shitty food then sleep after stewing their brainS saturated wih tv shows and somethings to talk about at work the fllowing day i will not let the morning sun in.. i may be drugged alone and stubborn... but alone is the way of birth and death i am no different/////////////////////////////////////////////////// ////////// valentino would have both dee dee and lydia, thats why he died so young.

My Interests

not you ..,.... stop looking at me ------------------------------------------------------------ -----------------------------------------------------Ageless BloodBeneath the sores of ancient times, I kneel in rusted temples of eternal torments, Before me the portrait of skies and the moon, Inside me the soul I gave up forever. Tonight, arisen, I felt the spear, On mighty wings of blood and war, I felt the spear within my soul, Treacherous blade of the infernal lust, Forever burning in my heartIve forsaken my soul in the forest, Perpetual song of the Valkyries, Carrying me into the light and the truth, The undying tombs of the immortals, Rising to comprise me in their knowledge. And I will reach the stars and gaze at the choirs Of lost forgotten lands, Distant ships and indifferent skies, I am a stranger among these powerful statues of death, Looking at me from the end of the universe.My emperor, fallen from the sick grace of the mortals, Forgotten by scars or torment or tyranny, Is waiting for me in Valhalla, This world is too weakened, this disgusting place I must leave, To bring genocide and rise with him now, For our souls have met in past distant lives. Our souls of nightshades, the taste of our flesh, My heart he is bearing, my cross and my days, Hes bearing my children and armies of hours, Between us are centuries, inside us lays each moment That we taste in our mystical love.My armies forever are binding in blood, I walk on the battlefield; my steps are like heartless sickening voices Of darkened sanctuaries burnt by storms, Howling like the wolves of carnal lust, Screaming for the moon in rapture. My emperor is waiting for me in ageless times, His face is now so young, no trace of mortality, His eyes behold my each step and feed me with my each breath, My beautiful emperor, immortal and cold, No human can touch him, no passing of time and no sword, Without him Im aging, Im pumping only death in my veins, In his arms Ill taste the resurrection.

I'd like to meet:

washed-up, on shore, the old yellow notebook out again I write from the bed as I did last year. will see the doctor, Monday. "yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, head- aches and my back hurts." "are you drinking?" he will ask. "are you getting your exercise, your vitamins?" I think that I am just ill with life, the same stale yet fluctuating factors. even at the track I watch the horses run by and it seems meaningless. I leave early after buying tickets on the remaining races. "taking off?" asks the motel clerk. "yes, it's boring," I tell him. "If you think it's boring out there," he tells me, "you oughta be back here." so here I am propped up against my pillows again just an old guy just an old writer with a yellow notebook. something is walking across the floor toward me. oh, it's just my cat this time.either peace or happiness, let it enfold youwhen i was a young man I felt these things were dumb,unsophisticated. I had bad blood,a twisted mind, a pecarious upbringing.I was hard as granite,I leered at the sun. I trusted no man and especially no woman.I was living a hell in small rooms, I broke things, smashed things, walked through glass, cursed. I challenged everything, was continually being evicted,jailed,in and out of fights,in and aout of my mind. women were something to screw and rail at,i had no male freinds,I changed jobs and cities,I hated holidays, babies,history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movies, spiders, garbagemen, english accents,spain, france,italy,walnuts and the color orange. algebra angred me, opera sickened me, charlie chaplin was a fake and flowers were for pansies.peace an happiness to me were signs of inferiority, tenants of the weak an addled mind.but as I went on with my alley fights, my suicidal years, my passage through any number of women-it gradually began to occur to me that I wasn't diffrentfrom the others, I was the same,they were all fulsome with hatred, glossed over with petty greivances, the men I fought in alleys had hearts of stone. everybody was nudging, inching, cheating for some insignificant advantage, the lie was the weapon and the plot was emptey, darkness was the dictator.cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. the less i needed the better i felt.maybe the other life had worn me down. I no longer found glamour in topping somebody in conversation. or in mounting the body of some poor drunken female whose life had slipped away into sorrow.I could never accept life as it was, i could never gobble down all its poisons but there were parts, tenous magic parts open for the asking.I re formulated I don't know when, date,time,all that but the change occured. something in me relaxed, smoothed out. i no longer had to prove that i was a man,I did'nt have to prove anything.I began to see things: coffe cups lined up behind a counter in a cafe. or a dog walking along a sidewalk. or the way the mouse on my dresser top stopped there with its body, its ears, its nose, it was fixed, a bit of life caught within itself and its eyes looked at me and they were beautiful. then- it was gone.I began to feel good, I began to feel good in the worst situations and there were plenty of those. like say, the boss behind his desk, he is going to have to fire me.I've missed too many days. he is dressed in a suit, necktie, glasses, he says, "i am going to have to let you go""it's all right" i tell him.He must do what he must do, he has a wife, a house, children. expenses, most probably a girlfreind.I am sorry for him he is caught.I walk onto the blazing sunshine. the whole day is mine temporailiy, anyhow.(the whole world is at the throat of the world, everybody feels angry, short-changed, cheated, everybody is despondent, dissillusioned)I welcomed shots of peace, tattered shards of happiness.I embraced that stuff like the hottest number, like high heels,breasts, singing,the works.(dont get me wrong, there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism that overlooks all basic problems justr for the sake of itself- this is a sheild and a sickness.)The knife got near my throat again, I almost turned on the gas again but when the good moments arrived again I did'nt fight them off like an alley adversary. I let them take me, i luxuriated in them, I bade them welcome home. I even looked into the mirror once having thought myself to be ugly, I now liked what I saw,almost handsome,yes, a bit ripped and ragged, scares,lumps, odd turns, but all in all, not too bad, almost handsome, better at least than some of those movie star faces like the cheeks of a babys butt.and finally I discovered real feelings fo others, unhearleded, like latley, like this morning, as I was leaving, for the track, i saw my wif in bed, just the shape of her head there (not forgetting centuries of the living and the dead and the dying, the pyarimids, Mozart dead but his music still there in the room, weeds growing, the earth turning, the toteboard waiting for me) I saw the shape of my wife's head, she so still, i ached for her life, just being there under the covers.i kissed her in the, forehead, got down the stairway, got outside, got into my marvelous car, fixed the seatbelt, backed out the drive. feeling warm to the fingertips, down to my foot on the gas pedal, I entered the world once more, drove down the hill past the houses full and emptey of people, i saw the mailman, honked, he waved back at me."Life is a hideous thing, and from the background behind what we know of it peer daemoniacal hints of truth which make it sometimes a thousandfold more hideous. Science, already oppressive with its shocking revelations, will perhaps be the ultimate exterminator of our human species -- if separate species we be -- for its reserve of unguessed horrors could never be borne by mortal brains if loosed upon the world."

Music:

jesus died for his own sins not mineI AM NO FEEBLE CHRIST/NOT ME/HE HANGS IN GLIB DELIGHT UPON HIS CROSS/ ABOVE MY BODY/LOWLY ME/CHRIST FORGIVE/FORGIVE?/HOLY HE/HE HOLY/HE HOLY/SHIT HE FORGIVES/FORGIVE?/FORGIVE?/FORGIVE?/I?/I?/ME?/I?/I VOMIT FOR YOU JESU/CHRISTEY CHRISTUS/PUKE UPON YOUR PAPAL THRONE/WRAPPED YOU ARE IN THE BLOODY SHROUD OF CHURLISH SUICIDE/WRAPPED I AM IN THE MUDDY CLOUD OF HELLISH GENOCIDE/PETULANT CHILD/I HAVE SUFFERED FOR YOU WHERE YOU HAVE NEVER KNOWN ME/I TOO MUST DIE/WILL YOU BE SHADOWED IN THE ARROGANCE OF MY DEATH?/YOUR VALLEY TRUTH/WHAT LIGHTS PASS THOSE PIOUS HEIGHTS?/WHAT PASSING BELLS FOR THESE IN THEIR TRUCKS?/FOR YOU LORD/YOU ARE THE FLAG-BEARER OF THESE NATIONS/ONE AGAINST THE OTHER THAT DIE IN THE MUD/NO PIETY/NO DEITY/IS THAT YOUR FORGIVENESS?/SAINT/MARTYR/GOAT/BILLY/FORGIVE?/SHIT HE FORGIVES/HE HANGS UPON HIS CROSS IN SELF-RIGHTEOUS JUDGEMENT/HANGS IN CRUCIFIED DELIGHT, NAILED TO THE EXTENT OF HIS VISION/HIS CROSS/HIS MANHOOD/HIS VIOLENCE/GUILT/SIN/HE WOULD NAIL MY BODY TO HIS CROSS/AS IF I MIGHT HAVE PERFUMED HIS BODY/WASHED THOSE BLOODY FEET/THIS WOMAN THAT HE SEEKS/SUICIDE VISIONARY/DEATH REVELLER/RAKE/RAPIST/GRAVEDIGGER/EARTHMOVER/LIFEFUCKER/JESU/ YOU SCOOPED THE PITS OF AUSCHWITZ/THE SOIL OF TREBLINKA IS RICH IN YOUR GUILT/ THE SORROW OF YOUR TRADITION/YOUR STUPID HUMILITY IS THE CROWN OF THORNS WE ALL MUST WEAR/FOR YOU/HA/MASTER/MASTER OF GORE/ENIGMA/STIGMA/STIGMATA/ERRATA/ERASER/THE CROSS IS THE MAST OF OUR OPPRESSION/YOU FLY THERE,VAIN FLAG/YOU CARRY IT/WEAR IT ON YOUR BACK, LORD/YOUR BACK/ENOLA IS YOUR GAIETY/SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN/(to come unto me)/SUFFER IN THAT HORROR/HIROHORROR/HORROHIRO/HIROSHIMMER/SHIMMERHIRO/HIROSHIM A/HIROSHIMA/THE BODIES ARE YOUR DELIGHT/THE INCANDESCENT FLAME IS THE SPIRIT OF IT/THEY COME TO YOU, JESU/TO YOU/THE NAILS ARE THE ONLY TRINITY/HOLD THEM IN YOUR CORPSEY GRACELESSNESS/THE IMAGE THAT I HAVE HAD TO SUFFER/THESE NAILS AT MY TEMPLE/THE CROSS IS THE VIRGIN BODY OF WOMANHOOD THAT YOU DEFILE/IN YOUR GUILT YOU TURN YOUR BACK/NAILED TO THAT BODY/LAMEARSE JESUS CALLS ME SISTER/THERE ARE NO WORDS FOR MY CONTEMPT/EVERY WOMAN IS A CROSS IN HIS FILTHY THEOLOGY/HE TURNS HIS BACK ON ME IN HIS FEAR/HIS VAIN DELIGHT IS THE PAIN I BEAR/ALONE HE HANGS/HIS CHOICE/HIS CHOICE/ALONE/ALONE/HIS VOICE/HISVOICE/HE SHARES NOTHING, THIS CHRIST/STERILE/IMPOTENT/FUCKLOVE PROPHET OF DEATH/HE IS THE ULTIMATE PORNOGRAPHY/HE/HE/HEARUS JESUS/YOU SIGH ALONE IN YOU COCKFEAR/YOU LIE ALONE IN YOUR CUNTFEAR/YOU CRY ALONE IN YOUR WOMANFEAR/YOU DIE ALONE IN YOUR MANFEAR/ALONE JESU, ALONE/IN YOUR COCKFEAR/CUNTFEAR/WOMANFEAR/MANFEAR/ALONE IN YOUR FEAR/ALONE IN YOUR FEAR/YOUR FEAR/YOUR FEAR/WARFARE/WARFARE/JESUS DIED FOR HIS OWN SINS, NOT MINE

Books:

777, the book of the circle, the unbearable lightness of being, ice9, memoirs found in a bathtub, house of leaves, notes of a dirty old man, diary of a drug fiend, frankenstein, junkie, wildboys, dharma bums, last diaries of..., women, ham on rye, death of a salesman, raymond buckland, the thing on the doorstep, the unchurch, dial 666 for satan, your imagination created me, slaughterhouse 5, sirens of titan, through the looking glass, i can kill you, the time it stands, confessions in a bathhouse, when the gentleman junkie shook my hand, the book of lies, raymond buckland, ......

Heroes:

I even hear the mountains the way they laugh up and down their blue sides and down in the water the fish cry and the water is their tears. I listen to the water on nights I drink away and the sadness becomes so great I hear it in my clock it becomes knobs upon my dresser it becomes paper on the floor it becomes a shoehorn a laundry ticket it becomes cigarette smoke climbing a chapel of dark vines. . . it matters little very little love is not so bad or very little life what counts is waiting on walls I was born for this I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.