Means:

they say its better to have loved and lost,
than to never have loved at all....
bull sh**.
save yourself while you can.
to have never loved means,
means to never have had your heart ripped out of your chest,
to never have had your lungs exploded up into your throat,
causing you to word vomit things you dont really mean.
save your tears for something else,
because Lord knows, they arent worth it.
to have never loved saves your brain from shooting out the top of your head.
never love. never ever.
to have never loved saves many gained hours of sleep.
to have never loved puts money back into your pocket.
they never loved you.
shut off, turn around, never look back.
never love. again.

poor ol' Kenny

He saw so many umbrellas when he fell from the sky that he thought the ground had grown a multitude of eyes. They opened wide. Dancing, water proof, multicolored vinyl beetles with pupils. The rush of air pulled back his lips into an ironic smile that he caught in the windows of the building he had just jumped off of.

Every night for two years straight he dreamt about this moment, and now it was finally happening.

Figures it would be raining, he thought.

A bird flew just underneath his torso, squawking madly and losing a feather. He tried to laugh but the rush of air had completely vacuumed out his voice.

Holy shit, he thought.

He suddenly realized how fast he was going. And that he had forgotten to go to confession. His Roman Catholic Grandmother had perpetually warned him of purgatory, and worse-- hell. He never completely bought it but went through with the motions just in case.

He couldn't remember if suicide was a mortal sin, but if it was, he wasted a lot of years reciting bullshit. And if God wasn't real, he wasted a lot of years reciting bullshit. And even if God was real, but he wasn't Catholic, then he wasted a lot of years reciting bullshit. The odds seemed against him either way.

Oops, he thought.

And then the standard pre-death memories started flashing before his eyes, too quickly to digest. Driveways and trains and tree houses and fences and then everything paused at seventeen years old. He was staring down, and he could still see the streets and umbrellas but he could also see threads on a quilt with ants crawling along the stitches.

"Baby let's get up there's gross bugs," his high school girlfriend had said.
"That's how picnics are supposed to be."
"I thought they were supposed to be romantic!"

The rest of his thirty-six years of life didn't have time to play.

And in that split second before hitting the concrete he changed his mind about wanting to die. But of course he did. Wouldn't you?

desire

i think about you far too often.
though you were entirly too easy to get over.
being around you this much a year later, breaks my soul.
you have mood far too fast.
i trail you in the dust when it come to love.
jealousy bleeds from my eyes.
jealous of your new found love.
i cry to let my weakness leave my body.
this smile is only fooling you.
my broken heart is tucked away deep inside my shallow breathing chest.
as my lungs take in the fresh air, of each new breat, my heart barly beats.
this body needs love.
these lips need to be embraced.
my hands need to be held.
but right now,
no love is better than your love.
and His love is better than all love.
this heart will soon be remembered.
thanking Him, and praying to Him.
i now know my hearts desire.

Tanks of Rust.

verge of death

end of hope

foreshadowing clarity

discrimination of the soul

hole in heart,

eternity growing larger

plain to see my eyes are gouged

spoonfuls of indigence being force fed

asleep at the wheel pondering dreams

conjuring thoughts of malodorous things

violence in my blood and daggers in my genes

pyramids of laughter being silenced by the scene

victimless crimes the infamy of design

the temperature festoons the highest line

covered in rust, dust, and slime

can't find the strength to get up and climb

eighteen wheels moving fast

pick a ride and follow the tracks

i'm heading out of here on straw that breaks backs

last lap and final coat, tell me where to shack

i set my self on fire for your capricious posture

now not knowing what to do, i sit and wait

drinking quickly to erase the pain of silence

no answer when questions asked and that's the issue

send mail to get mail, i wasn't expecting this.

ashtrays on the third planet swell to the size of seas

burning trees with souls filled with disease

filling whole hearts with cement, i no longer believe to repent

pills of anger and solicitations from beldams

posing no threats but causing all to reinvent

bedlam in the kitchen, sorrow in the cement

cement in the heart, violence in the blood,

pain in the water, relief in the whiskey,

it's not the sun, and it's not the moon

it's right in-between the stars and the fingernails

the expanse of nothing

agoraphobia and my deepest concern.

open ocean

haze at night

backwards image

mirror in the hallway

pens and paper for Yves Tanguy

a kiss to Matta

love letter to Georges Braque

and thoughts about Van.

and the one thing i'll never have

i have eighteen minutes left...

dress me up in plastic.

~Does anybody know?

Love,

Digress.

Doors

You reach for the handle, another door just waits for you to open it.
You grab on and twist.
The small creek of the opening door is all you hear
then you are
there, alone,
on a new path,
another door,
you just opened it.
You found a new way
a light that was once dim is now bright.
You reached out and found something to help.
You couldn't find the answers before,
now everything happens for a reason.
The door is creeking closed behind you.
A new life.
A new world.
One that was waiting to be discovered
not by everyone that has already opened the door
but by you.
The one that the door was made for.
The guideing hand helped you see
but now it's your time to run
to see where life can take you
to see where this door opened to.
run with it.
find your unsolved answers
find the truth in the words.

Dedication

Because this is a work of fiction, its dedication is as follows:

for Lazarus,

for the soon-found souls

every awkward kiss

the mistaken agendas inside ulterior motives

mending broken hearts

Your inanities

my Pretension

dedication

my terrible professors

the impossibility of existence

escape

the slow-cold drips of blood from my brain to my oil pan

Ascari A10

Oliver Cromwell (Lord Protector)

Keeping it Pithy

and Santa Fe Books (where would I be without you?)

not to mention my secretly developing dementia. 

In addition, I would like to not only thank but to also reciprocate the help of:

Eighteen minutes

the Doomsday clock

Death Letters

Suicide Notes

embellishment

spelling errors

and terrible grammar

Tonight, kind sir, I drink to you as well.

~Technological Regressionist who feels strongly for Assemblage.

Love letters to you Picasso,

Digress.

No Answer

I once knew there was something wrong with me

.

Lately the feeling

is that of

knowing 

something is wrong with you

.

But the feeling

is more communal

, like school pride

--which I lack deeply

--that something

is wrong with

us

and

as a whole

we are no good

.

So it's back to the

drawing boards

to develop more

crass and ignorant 

; bottom-feeders with growths, claws, and esurient

for anything that was once buoyant

.

And I wonder

what will happen to the

menageries when humanity has

departed with Earth?

~The best that I can.

Heart,

Digress.

Driving Slowly

I am a morbid person

Most 

strangers

think

that

I of 

all

are the

most

daft

.

Little

time

do they

invest

in thoughts

of mine

for

when

I hear

them 

talk

in their

banal

tones

, I cringe

to be

not only

in their

presence

but in

their

range

of oration

is the

most

courteous

and

benign 

thing

I can

do

for them

.

Later

, I will

commiserate

loudly

to the

ever 

dying

walls

and

try with 

all my

desire

that I

evaporate

.

No

Avail

.

Ever

.

~Happy Week. Happy Hour. Happy Month. Happy Birthday.

Heart,

Digress.

Now It's Complicated.

Walking to a macroeconomics

exam

at three-thirty

in the afternoon, sipping

slowly at an

Arizona

green tea

knowing that in

12 hours, i will still be

awake

in 16 hours i will still be writing

.

I arrive and sit in my desk

, like all the

other children, prepared

and excited for the

exam, i bravely

break out into

song about

money

money money

.

now i sit

12 hours in the future

trying to be a good student by 905 AM

. It might

not happen, but

at least, i'm giving it

a shot

in the pitch dark.

~Study all night. Study All Nighters.

Kisses and hugs and still forever yours,

Digress.

Evasively Inebriated

i'll spend most of my nights

doused in wine,

doused in the idea

of having more than i can chew.

i placed my teeth in the word

back when i was fifteen

ever since

the word has been attempting to hide

i found it again

under the last

night of the earth

and i found it again

hiding

in cold blood

behind the layers of Capote

it's there

in the hum of fluorescent lamps

behind the studs in the wall

in between the glass and the fortitude

it is the

zeros in your

phone bill

it's the lines on your

credit card bill

the word

is hiding behind everything

you just have to

be insane

enough

to read it.

~Classical Music.

Love,

Digress.

Life Gives Lemons.

i solicit sex scandals and wear no sandals

with years more on my love life, i've got something to share

bruised knuckles and broken hearts

bad haircuts and banging on the window

until the strangers are ready to drown

you wanna watch us all die

you wanna watch us all melt

and i just wanna watch us all laugh

cry and escape, because that's what becomes of us all

we're gonna meet our reflection in the mirror

and we should know that we reflect on every peer

sit still and keep yourself under the heart

i've got enough of the first part

bottle dreams and blurred night scenes

its an abattoir hidden under Capote

its the subtitle under the fine print of the brochure

the projects we continue to do after graduating high school

it's seven steps to the hell inside

and it's eighteen minutes to the death of laughter

enough of this, enough of that

art has died in my arms and

art has died in your own words.

~Painting in the back room, painting your face in the moon again.

I love you with every bone,

Digress.

A Flame Mesmerized

The room is getting smaller,
the walls are closing in
The world outside of ours is dying to get in.
Dying to interrupt our paradise
To make us feel small,
And unsure..

Baby, we’re getting smaller but we’re not gonna let them in
Hand in hand,
Mesmerized, we’re
Spinning…
Dancing.
To a beat matching that of our hearts
To the song no one else can hear
Nothing
No nothing…’s gonna tear this love apart.

Torches thrown,
in hopes of burning us down
But the only flame I see
is the glisten of fiery passion ablaze
in your gaze piercing my heart, my soul…
Menacing flames controlling the walls around us,
We are safe…
Upon our love
these flames cannot take hold.

Baby, we’re getting smaller but we’re not gonna let them in
Hand in hand,
Mesmerized, we’re
Spinning,
Dancing,
To a beat matching that of our hearts,
To the song no one else can hear
Nothing
No nothing…’s gonna tear this love apart.

The air around us is hazy
And clarity of direction is lacking
They say that the picture can only
Be black and white,
white and black.
There’s an in-between they fail to see
That’s as real as the air we breathe
Forever is how we want it
And that’s how it’s going to be.

Oh,
We’re getting smaller…
Not gonna let ‘em in.
Hand in hand,
Baby,
Mesmerized..
Hypnotized,
No one else can hear…

Low Gear.

Sitting in my room quietly

pondering the

future of nothing

and devising a new plan for excellence

.

I think about the black widows

late-night audible voices

how I cannot miss

this place

.

I fail to sleep anymore, the big

windows are cracked

with intimidation

the headboard is cemented in place

.

It is, though

common practice

to open up the mind and

listen to the dial tone slowly fade 

into the distance decay: just outside my mirror

.

~Eighteen minutes per day and i'm still ashamed.

Love,

Digress.

A Tragedy, Really.

Through my pitiful Myspace page

I have been eristically challenged

of my opinion on 

              existential matters

messages of dreary words

shooting back and forth in the vast-

impossible imagination of the internet

between my empty-headed

ideas portrayed stolidly

         and those

being broadcast through the

engaged stylus of

a broken 12"

        no mercy for the

        wicked    I suppose

and I find myself wondering

with each message

              , "how did I get into

                     this?"

I even initially  responded

to this pugnacious creep

with a letter

of (what i thought to be)

peaceful disregard

"I won't touch this topic because i find the

  argument to be

in vain and of vanity."

and now

         , knee-deep in her

horribly-crafted arguments

I submit the next chapter of my

            horribly-crafted retorts

~ This is what reading has taught me. this is what you taught me. this is what i won't do for you. this is what i haven't done for you.

Love,

Digress.

The Friendship Process

First, if you can get past my lewd
and unreasonable ideas
or if the timing is proper, you
get past my
sociopathic-taciturn nature
you'll find that i'm not the most
gracious of people
but, to you, it can be

categorized into

                 "personality"

. I'll become
a laugh-a-minute
        endeavor
                 for you

I alway seem to

         endeavor

next, you'll find that i have
some strange passive complex of despotism

, if you're lucky you won't ever
catch on to it
. then
, you'll see that my shrewdness and rancour
toward those
whom i deem the proprietors of intelligence
in a paucity
is probably the most ironic thing
you've ever seen
, if you're keen enough
on hoodwinking me

then, days

, weeks

, years later

i'll eventually become

frustrated with your inept
means of approach
and the lack of stolidity you
present or

, due to massive

embarrassment of my

strange despotism

, i'll either
slowly or abruptly
phase you from my ties of
communication
.

then i'll see you
weeks, years, months
later
and probably give you
a second chance
.
i don't think
               you, or i will
ever learn

~I'm in a bad way. still ill, but i love you all. all of you.

Love,

Digress.

meeting you

i lied when i said that
"im not scared of that mirror anymore!"
if only that statement were true at the moment.
i cant bare to look in that death trap anylonger.
its his fault i cant.
before it was his statements that made me believe.
he took the power of beauty away from me,
he stole my confidence and hid it from the world.
even if i muster up some confidence to get out of this room,
everyone will know what he has done.
you can see it in my eyes.
i feel it in my step.
it haunts me in my sleep.
i know you arent worth these tears,
and i wont remember you,
so help me God, i will never remember you.
this is truly my life regret,
ever meeting you.

Digress

I can't believe I'm still reading those insane rhymes. I just got a little nostalgic...

Take My Hand...We'll Make It

For once in my life I don’t have to try to be happy – now that I’m with you – I just am – all the time – even when I’m missing you – because I remind myself how fortunate I am to have you to miss. How fortunate I am to have such an amazing someone to love and have that love returned. I’ve got what most people spend their entire lives searching for – it found me…when I stopped searching it found me – it brought you to me…at the perfect moment…the moment when I needed you most…the moment when I couldn’t last any longer without you in my life…without you by my side. You came into my life at a time so perfect that it might as well have been written into a fairy tale – the day that the princess gets her prince. If my life was this written fairy tale – you are my prince. Not only are you my prince, but you’re my angel too. Now I know that sounds crazy, but hear me out. You’re my angel…that I have no doubt. You were the one prepared for me; the one who is meant to guard my heart…and guard it is what you have been doing. You’re the one who is to take my heart and put all the pieces back together…so you’re like the glue gun that is carefully gluing the pieces of my heart back together…and you are bedazzling it with your own special touch with each piece that you fix…you’re giving it your own flair…a flair that shows how unconditionally you’re going to love me…a flair that won’t be quick to lose it’s sparkle. I want that sparkling flair to not only remain but to grow into a radiant aflame wildfire that cannot be tamed. I’m counting on you to look after my heart because I can’t… I don’t have it anymore… you do. You’re the one who stole my heart and I’m glad it was you and no one else. Because in anyone else’s hands my heart would not be where it belongs…it belongs with you…my true love. The love between us is a love so true that truth itself seems to be false. A love that is like the world’s rarest priceless jewel…the rarest of them all for it only exists between us. A love that could be represented by a blue rose – if only it existed in natural form…for a blue rose would symbolize attaining the impossible…or the rarity of the one you’ve found. We have attained what many believe doesn’t exist…what many believe to be impossible to find… we have attained the impossible. Our love could be expressed through a red rose just as well. Everyone knows that the red rose is the rose of love. But what is commonly overlooked is that it also shows passion and undeniable romance…a desire that cannot be fulfilled loving anyone other than you… a love that is a rare red ruby in the darkest of hues. But nothing could ever come close to describe exactly how much I love you. The path that lies before us is long and winding and full of bumps and turns…but we can get through anything and everything…just take my hand – we’ll make it…I swear.

Blame Edgar.

I suppose you can blame Edgar
Purnell Hooley
for the fact that I
can't purchase a TVR in the
United States
and if i put Eco-Fuel
into a Koenigsegg CCX i'll be able
to access 900 break horse
power
. You can't drive a Porsche 911 GT1
in America because it
hasn't been crash
tested
nor does it have a
catalytic converter
but it was test driven in
germany for
27 hours with out
rest
and it
has participated
in thousands of miles of
racetrack
. Lotus puts two catalytic
converters on their
cars
for breathing
, they also make a Vauxhall
that
performs better in
turns
at a lower price
. American General
Motors cars
have automatic
gearboxes that know
nothing about shifting
and I can't mount slick tires
on my car
because that would be an
illegal
advantage over police
. Despite this, we still kiss under moonlit
skies and
huddled inside
of blankets
while the world
rotates
, while the dirt feeds plants
, while water reflects light
, and Edgar
quietly laughs in
his grave


I Blame Edgar
Purnell Hooley

Inventor of



~Sign here please. i must improve my passport status.

Love,
Digress.

World

It's like toweling off
after a long-hot
shower
with a cold-
damp towel

It's absolutely
like passing out before
dinner
or even, during

and

It's sad, just like poor
grammar
and typos in final
works

It's sad, exactly like holes
in umbrellas
or overgrown
lawns

but It is happening
in your own
overgrown back
yard

nobody cares to
nobody wants to
improve their grey-
matter
nobody thinks it
matters
anymore. and really
It doesn't now that we have
such
newfangled abattoirs

It
has grown
Into the ungainly old man down
the block
who walks in languid steps

taking each ascetic step

on time at
noon

each day,

just to make sure the world is
still
where he wanted it to be

pervading outside.



~Berceuse. By Chopin

Love,
Digress.