I am not a great writer so I will attempt to describe the events of my life through the eyes of someone who I am not. This is my life, my mind, and my perception of reality poured out on paper. I will attempt to use this journal as a therapeutic tool with which I hope to explain and understand these disturbing sentiments which I have been feeling for the past few weeks.

Something has happened, I can’t deny it anymore. It came to me so subtly, so discreetly I cannot even decide when it first became evident. It crept up like an illness does, I felt a little strange, sort of.......out of touch, I tried to pursued myself that nothing was the matter; but now I know.........it’s blossoming.

I don’t believe I’ve ever given much thought to a Freudian self-psychoanalysis, but if I had even a shadow of self knowledge I could put it to good use now. My life and everything in it has changed . For instance, there is something different about my hands the way they pick up a cigarette, or else it’s the way the cigarette has of being picked up....I don’t know. The other day I rushed home because I needed to use the restroom so badly I was on the brink of letting go all over myself. I opened the door to my apartment and ran to the bathroom but suddenly I stopped. I felt something cold in my hand which held my attention through a sense of......disgust.the cold metallic object covered with the germs of a thousand dirty hands. I stood there holding this object in my hand as shit and urine ran down my leg. I opened my hand and I was simply holding a door knob. This morning my mother came over to say good morning to me. It took me over ten seconds to realize who she was. She was just a person at my door step, just another face, but barley even a face.

Yes something has changed, is it me, if not me then everyone, this city, this.... existence I must decide which.

I spend so much of my life observing people. I stand on my balcony and observe humanity move past my apartment. From that high up you are so powerful. I am God. You know.... the front that men put up is only intended for about six feet in height. When I am down there they bump into me without apology...they cast evil glances.. hold their noses up high...so pridefull... so very pridefull. From up here they can’t touch me.... from up here they’re ants, it seems as if i could squash a crowed with the heal of my boot..... and i could you know..... squash a mass. I wish i knew the satisfaction Charles Whitman felt as he took aim on his targets from that tower at the University of Texas.... oh dear god I pray for just a small piece of the euphoria felt from taking aim on a man firing reloading aiming and firing on another all from one hundred feet in the air. Dear God how wonderful it must be.. how beautiful....

Father’s day grab bag-six pack and a porno mag. Friday afternoon, a busy lunch rush afternoon in a restaurant. A waiter brings a well dressed man in a suit his lunch of French fries and a chicken sandwich. He serves a fried kids meal to an empty chair next to the man. He begins to eat his lunch. A few moments later a woman enters with a small girl and instructs her to sit next to her father and eat her lunch. The girl has not eaten all day and is very hungry. The woman and man exchange a few empty words and the woman begins to leave. Suddenly the girl erupts into tears, "no mommy don’t go!" The mother explains to the girl that it’s the weekend when she has to stay with daddy.

The girl is too young to understand, she only knows that dad and his girlfriend are boring. She doesn’t have a swing set at her fathers house and no cool toys. her conversations with dad are always the same every week. how is school? what are you learning about? how are you grades? how is mother? does she still hate me? when she talks to him she feels like shes is being restrained. like he is sitting ontop of her chest, holding her hands over her head. all day she feels this way; like she wants to break away and run down the street back to her mother’s house. eventually her dad sends her to bed early so he and his girlfriend can fuck in the living room.

"I wanna stay with mommy!" she yells as her mother disappears through the returant lobby. She’s being loud and is beginning to make a scene. Two observing woman near by, one turns to the other and says, "my daughter does that ever time i drop her off at her father’s place." "Mine too." her friend nods.

Who will replace you dad? when your daughter realizes how cheap and easy love can be found

Love is the most beautiful of roses withering into dust. The city is dead tonight as i drive home. the sidewalks are cracked with age and smell of urine. all these lonely people at bus stops and street corners look like statues in the dim yellow street light. lifeless and empty like lost love and forgotten memories.

like my thoughts of you.

and why do all my subconscious thoughts revert back to you

my dead love,

my black dove,

my fatal shove

i guess its because

you’re all I’ve ever known of happiness

so take pleasure in that.

let that keep you warm at night.

it does the opposite for me

jellybean

kerosene

Ever notice how the Checks Cashed store is always located ten feet from the liquor store? Weekday down town afternoon and the whores are out. theyre always out. the proles dont rest. scented women sell love under looming sky scrapers that rape the sky like giant monuments to capitalism eclipsing the sun. in the shade Jesus sleeps on a cracked sidewalk that was paved on top of the carcasses of homeless men. got drunk and passed out and woke up in eternity entombed in cement. the city sky is purple tonight like permanent dusk in the growing thought that we can find solace in this blithe and ever widening destruction.

and what will you use to be complete?

who will you use to be complete?

some will find that bliss in Jesus

some will find it in love

some will find it in drugs

and i will remain incomplete

Sunday afternoon,

1:32PM,

light suburb mid-day church traffic.

I drive northbound to work as the traffic light

changes red , i ease to a stop. East and

westbound traffic begins to move slowly, gains

momentum and thins outs. Cars move past me

one by one. A speeding camaro behind me

approaches the intersection, runs the light and

plows into the side of an older model ford

station wagon, most likely a family on its way

back from church. The station wagon skids

sideways for a moment, hits the curb and flips

onto its back coming to rest under a street

lamp. No one goes out to help. The man in the camaro

mouths the words, "oh shit man fuck!" He rams

his foot down on the accelerator but the car

doesn’t move. Slowly he gets out with an

expression of defeat on his face. He has made

that face many times in his life. He smells of

beer and cigarettes, smells like white trash and third hand cars. The station wagon is on fire now,

no one crawls out. Skin begins to crackle stuck

to melting polyester. A child screams.

The light changes green and I go.

The light changes green and i take off, leaving

the horrible mess behind me.

The light changes green and I don’t care.

I’m not a fireman.

It’s ok the sun wasn’t all that important anyway. i had a vision of permanent daylight..... giant 100,00 watt street lamps rising through the clouds like the sun illuminating..... and the businesses are all open 24 hours.... we work purchase and sleep in shifts..... we drink together and pass out at 1 pm.... we all work now.... we all buy American because the t.v.’s super store nostalgic vibrations pour purchase patterns into our subconscious..... our need to buy is now instinctual.... and some no longer need sleep.... those that do never dream

and the world is such a different place now.... it’s more like a dream.... and the world is such a lonely place..... and we all work, purchase, die..... work, purchase, die.... work, purchase, die ....the world is such a different place.

Complacence is not constructive. Hate is a virtue. and where have the stars gone to my love? They have all melted into this o’ so modern metallic new age of fading reason. And where will you be when you become obsolete?

stainless steel daydream sunday afternoon

At parties the people often make me sick and the alcohol acts as golden pepto-bismo. this is where it begins. ive noticed it growing inside me for years now...very slowly. i see everyone crawling around the sidewalks like ants and it nauseates me. it used to come only when i would see a horrible commercial or notice a trite piece of art....but now i feel it all around me like a plague. and i wonder....is this where paranoid schizophrenia begins? with a slight distrust of mankind.... will everyone soon be against me? but in this realization now should it not prevent a later mental break down?

all these buildings look like giant penises sodamizing the sky.

and when did the nausea first seep into my veins? when i was very young i remember reading the writings of Orwell and Huxley. they taught and i listened. they spoke to me with a startling tone. their books, emanating with ideas and prophecies deeper then any adult had ever had laid on me. they showed me where the world was situated in time and where it was headed and in this place in my conception of time i first noticed this madness around me. i vomited for days afterwards. i now saw the fragility and futility of everything. i now see the world as this ball of glass resting on the edge of a cliff.

this worlds possibilities are endless but our destruction is not

"true love is finding the person you hate most and giving it your all." you tell me this is love i feel so i feel it. you are so very convincing with all your experience and charisma and i am so very submissive. i am your pupil and you are my teacher. so much knowledge and wisdom i cant even bear the thought of not being with you. you’ve eaten, digested and defecated a thousand guys like me. you lure us into your web of bullshit without remorse and feed off our blood till we’re dry, leaving our carcasses to rot, soaked in the body fluids once we shared. what happened in your life that made you so fucked up? do you think is was because your parents built you up simply to knock you down? your childhood so perfect till that day daddy left you with your mentally ill, bi-polar mother who loved you so much.... but hated the fact that you resented her for your their break up. tell me that story again, of how she bought you that puppy who you loved so much.... you said he was your best friend. you told him all of your secretes because he wouldn’t laugh at you, he would think less of you because your family was crazy.he would never hurt you. in fact, he would bark at your mother when she yelled at you; when she came home drunk and pressed her gun against your face. what was your dog’s name?..... oscar! tell me again how your mother shot oscar in the head because he shit on her red, silk bed sheets. tell me, do you still cry for oscar? do you still have those dreams where you wake up in a bed covered in dog feces and blood? i remember i cried so hard when you first told me that story. i cried because that shocked and frightened me that people like that existed. i cried because you were so beautiful and your life was so fucked up; but most of all i cried because i thought i loved you. i felt so much pity for you i would have given my life to have made those horrible memories go away. i shared all your hatred for your mother with you, i wanted so badly to bash your mother’s skull in with a bat.

i got too close to you.... i cared too much for you and you cared too much for me. i became an emotional threat... you didn’t trust me. it was too possible that i would take your heart and break it in two as soon as i realized how fucked up you were. just like your father did to your mother.... you were too much like her and you knew it. it was time to find another bleeding heart to drain.

you know... at first i didn’t blame you for what you did to me. you didn’t trust men, it was your father’s fault. you were emotionally incapable, it was your mother’s fault. you didn’t trust me because i didn’t show you enough love, it was my fault. but when the smoke of heart break and self pity cleared i realized, you are simply a weak piece of shit. that is all you will ever be. because you cannot find the courage in yourself to rise above your horrible childhood. stronger people become harder for what you went through. you would rather make yourself feel better by destroying someone else..... you get off on the fact that a guy is a complete wreck without you.... it exhilarates you so much you can’t wait to do it again. i guess I’ll always envy you for that. the way that you can get so close to someone and fuck them over like that with a total lack of emotion... it’s something i could never do because I’m far too emotional. and in that respect you will always be a far stronger person then me. you will always hold a special place of envy in my heart.

I’ll miss you tonight as you sleep in your bed of lies. I’ll miss you tonight as your new boy cries.

gridlock traffic

all movement ceases to a halt. two cars in front of me. a huge piece of white trash is cursing existence. his face is purple, eyes bulging, screaming " god damn mother fucking road construction! why can’t they work on this shit at night!" white trash is gripping the steering wheel like he grips his wife’s throat, with two trembling fists, knuckles white. he is very hungry. the 5 o’ clock sun sets on his tense silhouette. he pounds his fists into the horn and exhales steam. behind him a man hits the gas instead of the break and plows into the back of white trashes truck. they both get out to view the damage. white trash looks at his truck, bumper smashed in, tail light cracked, "Bucannen for president" sticker all fucked up. the other man stands there not knowing what to say. white trash is nearly twice his size and can smell his fear. white trash feels his face turn purple with anger. he grips the man by his hair and slams his head into the chrome tow hitch on his dented bumper. his teeth shatter like glass and he feels his mouth swell and fill with blood, he passes out. white trash looks at the broken man face resting in a pool of blood, gets back into his truck, pulls off onto the shoulder around the traffic and speeds off. "maybe we should have gotten his license plate number," a near by man says to his wife. white trash is gone, he is no longer hungry. "better than any dinner ive ever had, " he says to himself. funny how some people break so easily. the sun is out today heating a million miles of asphalt

6 billion heads boiling over with anxiety

i went to work

i waited on silly suits that smile like sharks

you know the way used car sales men smile

the way death smiles

i waited on frowning house wives

smell like musky couches and dusty bedrooms

look like moles blinded by the light of life

i waited on old folks with the social security blues

they hate everything that isnt old

everything that breaths life

everything that reflects youth and vitality

old man says he doesnt want to die in his sleep

he wants to die with his eyes open

wants to see death coming

wants to feel that last bit of hurt

that final painful kiss good bye

i can understand him

i want to see death

shake his hand

stick my tongue down his throat

whisper softly in his ear

you are the only true angel

it takes a true genius to find rest

all i can find is my car keys

so i can make it to work on time

all i can find is my keyboard

to make a short poetic rhyme

someone needs to tell the story

maybe im not the right person

after work i lifted weights till my muscles burned

then i hit a punching bag till my fingers bled

im such a mess

i need a vacation from life

or maybe just a flower to brighten it up

something to give my gray and black world some contrast

when i was very little in music class we sang that life is but a dream

i think that was the most important thing i was ever taught in school

life is but a dream

i think ill sleep for a little while now

i hate coming to places like this

bars are filled with such sad people

big meat head guys looking for a one night stand. woman who are only trying to have a drink are constantly bothered by these morons. how tough it must be to be you. the cheesy pick up lines you hear must make you sick. i really am ashamed to be a man. but im sure you can see why so many guys come on to you. you were the first person i noticed when i came in. you radiate beauty from that laugh, its so perfect. when i first sat down next to you gave me a look like "oh great another jack off". but now i see youre laughing and enjoying my company. arnt you glad you didnt tell me to fuck off? because you had that "fuck off" look in your eye. weaker guys must be scared off by it. you have the look of a strong woman who doesnt need a man. i bet when you tell guys to fuck off they call you a dike or some other mindless name. god it must be so hard to be female i really sympathize for you. all you are to them is a warm tight hole.. sick as that may sound its true. they dont give a shit what you think of the world. who your favorite author is or where you grew up. they only want to know this information if its going to help them get into your pants. by the way you read Sylvia Plath dont you? yeah i knew it by the sadness in your eyes. youre so tragic and so beautiful. the bar is closing now... it looks like youve had a little too much to drink.. you know my house in within walking distance from here...you could sleep there if you want.. i mean i would feel so horrible if you went out driving drunk and hurt yourself.

i havent felt its warmth on my skin for weeks now

im getting good at not going out

into the madness

last time i did i washed my cloths 7 times to get the smell out

i scrubbed my skin with sand paper

till i was pink and reborn

in this summer time cesspool

my wife

i dragged her down until she snapped

my son doesnt visit

hes probably in prison for sex crimes

my daughter OD’d on junk last spring

a fetus died with her

and the world still spins around the sun

the world still spins around the sun

the sun rises

from behind the skyscraper skyline

heating the trash and vomit collecting in the gutters

the broken bodies of pigeons

sizzling on the black tar asphalt summer heat

we wake and leave our homes like clock work

fill the streets in ant trail gridlock

because today is a business day

like every other day

like everything

feels....

so mechanical and lifeless

stocks rise and fall

like the sun

like my happiness

like all those pigeons

who will one day spiral down

their bones decaying into the soil

and fossilize into a lost memory

of how great it was to be alive today

lost moments in my dead mind forever forgotten in my void of memory

holding me trapped and punished for crimes i will never remember

all this pain never realized in conscious thought but never forgotten in dream imagery

carrying me to this lonely street bleeding again for what is screaming to me constantly but constantly ignored

shoved away so i can remain sane in this part of my right minded view of life

hold me till this torture runs dry and tired in this hell left by god to burn and waste

failed frantic and hopeless sleeping in this radiating meltdown

summer time sunshine heat

feels like god is angry

we can melt today

melt together

into the blood stained cum caked concrete sidewalk

pale man, thick beard caked with dust, howling to the moon empty and broken on America’s most forgotten street corner

looks like the second son

people throw change like stones

as he carries a canvas bag over his shoulder like a crucifix

all men are created with equal love

equal time and equal shove

into this brutal eternal night

forgotten

smell the anger like burning skin

he radiates heat like a four alarm fire

moving down the street dripping sweat

one fist clenched

the other grips a .45

"she fucked a nigger!"

"god damn monkey nigger fucked my wife with his big horse dick!"

he hustles his 260 pound frame down the street

white and pure in his sweat soaked tank top undershirt

he passes two cops beating a homeless man,

they leave him lying on the floor twitching half dead

they take his booze and go of to find a little boy to sodomize

outside an office building employees on strike are protesting

as their boss tries to enter the building they ignite him with a flame thrower

as he rolls on the floor screaming and burning they beat him with the picket signs

the president walks home from church with the first lady

there are no secrete service men, they cant find anyone willing to take a bullet for the president

four young boys living in a south D.C. project housing tackle the president

the hold him down and take turns urinating on him

the first lady smirks and continues walking home

mark twain said "loyalty to the country always. loyalty to the government when it deserves it."

meanwhile a black man is walking down the street with a newly acquired .45

he see two police men with there pants down

a naked boy is sucking one of there dicks with tears in his eyes

he takes the gun and shoots both the cops in the face

"fucking pigs."

he walks off

the boy’s young, lean, naked body is splattered with cum and blood

he goes home and watches TV

his mother sits next to him and shoots up

they sit slouched to one side, eyes half open staring straight into the television screen

who wants to be a millionaire is on

somewhere theres a fire burning

no one will bother to put it out

until the cities are smoldering metropolises of

iron frames

until the sky is blanketed in black clouds like permanent twilight

until we are hopeless modern cavemen in a destroyed futuristic modern day brave new world

night thoughts of death or an even more hopeless tomorrow,

hoplessly permant in this wake ecstacy of forgotten past held sleepless nights and death hopping from eternity to forgotten southwest landscapes

needed smile

hold me in this dream scapless

prying

forgotton

what could be lost inside reason

punishing god for his wakeless and dayless divinity

in his hopless epiphany

in eternity

locked away inside

and if we are all he watches

i pray for my lord and savior that he rise onto the cross and be nailed

because the closer we become to being god the closer we become to instant destruction

you’ll forever be that special little hole in my heart

youre with me always

sometimes suppressed but always there

to make me feel hopeless and pathetic

i call you to hear your familiar "hello"

dead silence

a second frustrated "hello" then you hang up

i get off on your frustrated voice

i want to talk to you

i want to say some deep revealing shit that will make you want me back

i want to make you feel like you made me feel

i want you to soak your pillow with tears for me

i want you to hug the air pretending its me

telling you everything is fine

because im here

because our love makes the ugly world beautiful

i waited on a girl today that had your eyes

that blue/green look of a scared child that made you look innocent

she made me feel so empty

and tipped me 20%

sometimes i think i really enjoy this pain

most of the time i try to find ways to ignore it

i guess love and pain are the only things that really last

he sits in an empty room

no windows

four walls and a door

he meditates with a loaded gun to his head

as the walls whisper to him from the space between the sheet rock

his 12th floor apartment is surrounded by the city

at night the buildings crowed the room like giant black shadows behind his four glowing bright white walls, immortal hiding him from the city

he must force himself to go out

night is easier because there is less people

he wonders what it would be like to be one of them

so carefree and dead

so modern

so frantic and meaningless

those office women

with there sculpted gym cut legs

hard bodies and low cholesterol diets

he wonders what it would feel like to be touched

he thinks of feeling and being felt

running his hand up a business womans skirt

do you know that over powering feeling of not being to grasp what is barley out of reach?

it destroys him daily

it pounds him down into the floor of his apartment

he cannot escape it when he is alone

but it is far more unbearable when he is in public

he walks down the street

screaming in his mind

a long constant death cry that crishendos into a painfull piercing whistle

at some point we all decide wake or sleep

a painful life or nothingness

"i feel most alive when im bleeding."

he says to himself with a smile

bukowski worte

"a peacefull life

is peacfull death"

"i love my pain

because my pain

is the only thing that keeps me from killing myself"

the new-age crusaders sat around a table

conspiring holy war and moloch america

moloch america the one super power

moloch america the malignant parasite of greed

moloch america the monster infidel

there were no planes in the sky today

i thought that felt kind of strange

a lot of people didn’t make it i hear

some people have very bad luck

I’ve heard some believe

if you wern’t a good person in your former life

you’ll have bad luck in the next one

i think thats’ silly

but convincing at the same time

there were no planes in the sky

and I’m getting more and more drunk as i watch the news

i start to laugh to myself

these people are talking about murder

they use words like "senseless" and "evil"

if teaching truth and learning truth are two of the most important things in life

then arn’t they very evil themselves

Camus knows about that righteous judgment

he also knew that if most people could realize how "sensless" there lives were

there would be a lot more suicides

i think the world began to collapse today

it just didn’t feel right even though i didn’t really care

some people care

some people are talking about bombs and revenge

but revenge is not divine

only justice

but most people are satisfied with easy solutions

forget just reason

i just wish i had reason

so i could explain to everyone why they’re full of bullshit

they did a good job i think

3 out of 4 isn’t bad

it’s a lot better then we’ve done

i can’t even finish a poem

i leave it premature

like a two month old fetus

with a hanger through his head

there were no planes in the sky today

makes it feel pretty obvious

that we are still on our continuous

downward trajectory

that tiny ball of shit

falling toward the bottom of the porcelain bowl

in that space

between the giants asshole

and his toilet water

i think i found myself the other night

in all this maddening human waste...

there were these lines of ants...

rows and rows moving forward off of a cliff

and the ones caught in-between the lines

got pulled into the stream

or got trampled

and that’s where i found you

in the middle being trampled

questioning the simple and absurd order of the line

and when all the blood is shed

and the ants have fled the city

when the ashes sink into the earth

and the bones are sun-bleached white

do you think

that we could hold each other

and watch the sun rise

over the post-apocalyptic skyline

of their failed empire?