another lost angel

jesus

why do things become so fucking complicated in such short periods of time? why do i feel the need to drive in circles, sit in parking lots alone, explore neutral subdivisions (the homeowners see me as a spy from an enemy community), and fucking waste time before i find the damn gumption to go already? dammit. and it was good. what with the humping of the televisions and the smoking of the cigarettes and the drinking of the liquid and the falling down the stairs and the making out of strangers. i review from the middle, critic in the midst of the jungle, paramed, first on the scene, telepathic in questioning, negotiations of space and place, winner. nice guy.

i want to know why (i care!) after prolonged absence, reappearances scare me. i want you so badly but cant find the words. and now of all times! miss all-time record. mr mojo risin mojorisin gota mojo risin dida mojorisin gotakeep on risin risinr isin risinrisnrisinrisinrisinrins ridin ridnin babe

and now? why??? motherfuckit why? and spitting blood to the north. spitting blood in the wind? leave again, leaver. motherfucking leaver! soloooooo is me. han solo, alone, traveler in space. lonelily. lost and found simultaneously, returning home to catch the leaving ship. a rerun, repeat of the last. north, the both of you, though relative. explain to me your feelings, your negotiations, the silence, the dead-fucking-radio. dead-line, hanigning on that dead-line, dead radio signal loss between you. is it that bad? explain to meee. how can it be dead? not for you, for yall, for me it depends on both. are you lucky ladies? sex in the city? this shouldnt be so damn complicated, so damn,,, understandable impossible. why must you torture me with your nottalk and your silent speak, the back of your head, the back. glances from your car, from afar. to the east. sunday afternoons alone, not since the summer. since july, july a year. summer a year and that. and then i didnt appreciate the neither of you. can you tell me why? can you give me a sign of a life or a ticket stub already torn and put me on a plane or a car to a coffee shop here or there or both, somewhere in between where we can share some lovely te3a or cofee or mocha or lattee and just appreciate, fucking appreciate the fact that i made it and you made it and make it and that the future includes the both of us though not necessarily legal or both in the same... but seperate and longing and far. slow it down.... to slow, always has been and will be. at least no pause, no longing stopping, no cause for harsh reaction, no lies, no love at allll nowhere in the world is there another best friend secret like this one. you dont understand. i dont understand, aint nobudy understands the pain and empytyness and lack of utter understanding or anything of this nature that lives in my heart, no fuzzy animals or zen creatures or dreaming ecxcept of other people uninvolved and involved in their own selves nad lives and others due to that exactly. rising rigin. mokkjo. got it now.

how i know there is a god. taken a couple hours ago from my front doorstep. beautiful and more than a little scary...

{click for a better resolution shot} 

running over the same old ground

the movies over, everyones gone to bed, guitar is put up, fire put out and theres no one out there to speak of. so im writing. im not sure what to say, never am, and like i have been for the past - god knows how long - i get ideas and think them through to the point that i should have at least written them down. predictable as the tides. as the weather. they leave on the breeze.

a couple nights ago i experienced firsthand something i had never really conceived before. the fragility, the solid gummy... i cant say it. i believe in the human soul. and i believe that the price of being in total control is too high. we live most moments of our lives looking forward. believing that it is our job to breathe. what isnt realized is that our lives are indeterminate. out of our hands... for the most part. unless you take it into your own hands - its an ironic fate. at any point in time, wherever we are, you can be snuffed. just like that, life isnt that much. just a candle in a paper sack. waiting for the outside world to interfere with rhythmic heartbeat, thin paper film and balsa cage to aid the soul in proliferation. i dont believe i would have done the same, had i known how many people would have shown. how many tears would be shed. how much of a black hole, bigger than my body, i represented.

i saw a man walking down the street a while back. i was in my car, it was midafternoon in the middle lane driving home. i see a lot of men on the street but none that gave me a glimpse of my future as much as he. this man crossed the intersection walking the opposite direction on the sidewalk to my left. he looked to be in his late twenties, short dark hair, looked nonchalant about walking. wearing a white t-shirt and brand jeans that were loose but not baggy. they fell in creases over brown new balances, clean and new. he was walking with a green (or red) pack of cigarettes in his right hand. i shouldnt smoke if i end up with diabetes. he might have carried music too. i cant quite see it as clearly now. i shouldnt smoke at all.

i get the feeling sometimes that i am one of a pair of lost souls. i get the feeling that it is my lifes mission to find them - her - and end both our searches. if we even know we are lost. if she finds me... should i blame god or fate or dumb luck? that i have been who i am for so long that it paid off after too long outside the ring. too many bouts unfought. i used to think i would never know what that meant and then for a while i did. i lost it somewhere in my character shifts since that last instant in july/august when i knew it was over. whenever i bring it up to the forefront of my imagination, to be put with some classic imagery, i always see it standing in my bathroom. i dont notice the clutter, just the wallpaper and the light streaming in the window. i cant see but can feel through the wall into my room and beyond. i cant see but a vision of you and myself in the flesh. i can hear the words i thought to myself, "i should talk to her. dont expect to keep her around forever but... be there. a month or two. it will be ok."

nothing left

open wide

the search for the perfect phrase never ends

its been a while but so have i
in coming back to senses dear
for searching, screening, visions lie
with no direction, wheel or se'er
knocked to wayside friends and that
which meant so much so long ago
and with a simple 'hey' i sat
as passed you a simplistic blow
lazily ive spent the nights
on fire with gas and wood to burn
a sparkling polished new delight
for joyous sound to me alone
but sound for you in spirit here
though far too far to hear that which
i picked one out for you to hear
and sent it from my dugout ditch
life passes by me far too fast
but still i feel it takes too long
to reach goodbye, a season past
struck out to prove our notions wrong
ill leave you here and you me there
we'll speak often and later, less
and watch the parting days we shared
replaced by fresher blooming mess
but here ill sit through times old test
content and same as always been
will you, my dear, be here abreast?
or far from me and home within?

theres a sad groove stuck somewhere in the forefront of my imagination. its been there before, i dont even know what song it is from anymore. just a single piano going down. maybe off the last track, funny cause i didnt even hear that one. might have been yesterday i thought, it would be nice around now to be autistic. not worrying about being social or falling in love or falling. not to demean the disorder at all, of course just... i feel bad for not doing more and i get scared to do it. i dont even know why. least of all i want charity. what i want... so much. none too easy. i want you back without lifting a finger. because i am not needy. what i want... i want you to want this back, to miss me, and know that even though i dont have any words to say to you, i want the opportunity.

i want to take disadvantage of someone. be charitable. the opportunity. i want to not want anymore. for some reason or another i make my life harder to live, i do it to myself. self-destructive when im not even aware its happening. i dont want this to be all i write about. myself - so selfish, dont you think?

step back a bit, i see, i see
the bigger picture is too large to be
lay waste my shallow fears
in red and yellows, stretched spheres
not a danger in so few to me
just excuses my pretenses clear

so what if i never see you
last year was good, before the blue
and after the show, though beautiful
my hopes and fears plentiful
you held my hand but didnt mean to
its on you, my lifes far from full

the last i want to be is anyones burden
more the beast of someone dear
if i should be caught unawares
my failure would be quite clear
i never know whether to look or not
shuffle step or scratch my nose
to walk past you without hello
hate and remorse looping grows
and everyday, everyweek, in time
sit by the window looking out
cornerwatch through chinese eyes
the back of your head shout
'i dont want to see you anymore
i just dont give a damn
it was nice back then, ill concede
but ive changed too much, man
its not my fault however much it is
just my choice to let go and keep
those things that hurt you all day long
its only your job to breathe
so let me be, please, and someday you
will find the strength to hate me too
for all ive done and continue to
the end, kid, im through'