Sunshine.

[from sketchbook:]

Sunshine
is hard to come by
when your heart just
ain't mine

No guns
for Peter!

DENTAL

i don't get it is it political or what

This messenger has lost his way back home
Mirrored manuscripts from the fall of Rome
His eyes entwined
With the sickly sweet memories of life
fucked by friendship & ruled by vice
He is nobody's and he is nobody
He's got nobody and he likes it
So dry your tears
He can't feel them running
Running down your cheek
The messenger kills himself.

Purple shit

March 2nd, 2009.

Sitting naked up in bed with a cigarette dangling from my lips. Loosely dragging, I stare at a reflection on an LCD screen until my eyes grow dim. My ears are sore from constant bombardment with music; I hope it will broaden my mind.

Chipped nail polish is the only thing that stands out right now. Head's dull, I've been breaking it all year. Nothing seems particularly vibrant.

Fuzzy daze, heat hits me like a hammer cracking a skull.

1. I lose the ability to stand.
2. The music I hear no longer has rhythm.
3. Confusion sets in, a gentle hand.

I vaguely put out the cigarette.

Murder/suicide.

[from sketchbook:]

sunken face, you sank down
drunk place, you let down
it's not my time or responsibility
to be his fucking cover
i've let myself down
i've let myself down
i've let myself get away
another image in glass described
my name, my claws defiled
there's no fucking cross on your back
he's just a choice for you to make
stop it, you're hurting me.

R-Man Files, Vol. XI

Absolute contemplation, you can't see me fall
I love the inadequate, I shove your face
Into the wall
what a joke, what a hateful pathetic mess
it's true, I can't begin to stress
Life is rocking around me,
this fuckin' ship is setting sail
Driving me up the fucking wall
You drive me up the wall
I can't control how you make me feel
It's great, it's fucked, it's real
shivers up my spine and fevers at the
same time. this makes absolute and
perfect sense why aren't
this wouldn't bee okay
wimmin can't live with
out thei

it you were in my FUCKING PLACE

More arms!

[from sketchbook:]

I look like
I've eaten
too much
cake murr

(drugs)

I guess it's because
university level students
have a tendency to
overcerebralize over
the silliest things.

Mosh
&
Roll

Fuck you,
cunt.
Nert, nert, nert, bitch.

R-Man Files, Vol. VIII

You feel like
a smooth jazz
homicide.

I wanna give
you anthrax,
sugar pie.

American Flag

BLIND
DOESN'T
ZOMBIE

hey man,
whatever
Rock
=
Fucked

Hi everyboy, I'm the newest member of oh god,
sweet! Sweet.
O-FACE!

I'M TOO
LONG

When you kiss a robot his eyes are purple

4 in
the.

Skin stitched mask.

[from sketchbook:]

your door is open to the nines
and i don't know
recently you told me that i scare you
now i feel comfortable
should i go to your room
or wait for you to come here?
i'm the wrong person to think about that
cause i'm socially inept
a misanthrope with a heart
i'm the worst combination
and even if i wanted
to leave you, i wouldn't
get past the station

Glitch.

Absolutely unacceptable.

This isn't the way we should have had a heart. Fuck the denigration. I feel like there's a cross
That you cross
And we can't really get why it's such a fucking big deal, this cross

Positive again. Life seems to be in order. Or rather, I've deconstructed my existence to the point where I can seem it as a sum of the parts, not just a whole. I see what's wrong, what I need to fix, and exactly how much I enjoy certain aspects related to a specific person. I worry too much, think that maybe she and I won't work out. But truthfully, it'll be okay.

Whatever good left once died

February 8th, 2009.

hi, um, whatever, so, yeah.

I guess that sounds enough of what I'd be saying right about now, as of the writing.

But you know. It's kind of sad. And kind of nice. And pretty.
I don't know if I could handle this every day. I don't think I could.
I start to fall apart after a couple of cigarettes, kid, I'm sorry.
Fuck, I don't know. I guess this is my innate sense of self-awareness telling me
"Hey, J--, it's not really you saying this."
or if it's saying something like
"Hey, just fucking tell her you love her."
but then I don't. Because then I feel like it's just the drugs talking, stalking.
And like, as tiedyeheadbandwearingmotherfuckersittingonafieldwithacousticguitar as it sounds,
I really do love you.
There was a conscious attempt at making this even a little bit more meaningful.
I ignored it (which I of course doubt).
But honestly, I don't know if I could take anything much more meaningful than saying
I love you, D-- M--.

Eleven eleven.

February 17th, 2009.

Don't make a wish.
Don't pay attention.
Don't think about life.
Don't do that.
Don't smoke a cig.
Don't eat ham.
Don't chew with your mouth open.
Don't care.
Dont punctuate
Don't repeat yourself.
Don't repeat yourself.
Don't steal.
Don't believe.
Don't make a wish.