Starving

My appetite has grown...exponentially. I don't know if it's because Ace is away, starving in Paris, but all I wanna do is feed on ANYTHING. Like right now for example. I am currently wolfing down dinner leftovers. Dim sum galore with a side of gin and juice while watching the GGayest show in the world. On my damn couch because my room threw up on itself with all the clothes I have not yet packed. I just want to eat. It is making my stomach significantly rounder and larger but I don't even care. There's no way for me to fill whatever void this is........so I will feast. And feast. I told myself I have till October to be this gluttonous ogre, but who knows. I might just stay this way until the mirror gets me to do a doubletake of myself and see that I have swollen into something unpleasant.

Shit.

Big Thing

Ever since this damn phone, I never want to be on a laptop. I use my laptop as a television for when I am at home at night, struggling to sleep. And I can never fucking sleep. So goddamn all this. 

In other matters, tonight is my last night in my old house and I am not even there to spend it. It doesn't really matter. My bed is naked and I have been sleeping on the couch. 

I don't really have anything to say. 

I just feel like keeping everything a secret. 

Oh well, right?

On To The Next

I am magnificent.
I am my own empty vessel.
But I am magnificent
and the dust will never settle on me.

on the porch

During my freshman year in high school, I spent the afternoons with roughly 20 of my friends polishing the wooden floors of my living room and callousing our feet with the stone cement of my porch. We were children and we were alive. On Sundays, we'd gather at a usual time and put on some movie while we talked over every scene from intro to credits. We'd bake cakes, and cookies, and brownies using leftover McDonald's butter. They'd wear my pajamas, run around my front yard, and scream through their teeth. I watched them all and we reveled. Life as we knew it was easy and life as we knew it was my house with the dozens of us. My parents would spend my nonexistent college fund feeding all these mouths, as if they'd adopted an army of harmless free-spirits. At night we'd huddle together on my massive couches, sharing blankets and fighting over the golden-tasseled throw pillows that always found their way on the floor anyway, watching some scary movie that our bear of a friend would insist we see for the sole purpose of  "SHITTING YOUR PANTS." Everyone was invited and you probably were too. We were young and drunk off ourselves. Nearly 6 years later, Life, without a fail, has found me. Some of us are off in the military, a four-year college, on that steady grind for minimum wage, at our nearest and most beloved community college, and even in cobble-stoned, starving Paris. This house will no longer be ours and the porch goes too. I am spending the last few days and nights on my porch, MY porch, remembering the life we once had here. Life has found them and now it's found me. In less than 30 days, I'll be off on my goddamned journey to being Nurse, Yours Truly and in less than 20 days, I will be on another porch, in another living room, paving a new life of adulthood, forever remembering the younger me. The younger us. I miss my friends. But like I said, Life has found us. I'm not sad, I'm just kind of sad. We couldn't stay here forever because if we did, we'd fill my house with bodies of heat which it always did back then, growing bodies of heat and we wouldn't have what we have now. I'm feeling reminiscent tonight and I'm feeling alright. I was ready for Life to find me, even if I was always such a late bloomer. 

Never forgetting the most uncomfortable porch 

What the hell is wrong with me

Maybe I should start acting more like a human and less like an animal.

I'm a sinner and the sky is red.

Are you alone at 4 in the morning?

This is filthy.

Infantile

I had on two layers of pants because I thought I deserved one more while I sit on my stone-cemented porch, hungry for smokes.

I had cleaned my room all day and rested my spine. My clothes are neatly stacked, hung on the bar of my closet, or waiting in the dryer for me. My floors are spotless. My desk unchanged and undisturbed. I feasted a few times in few hour intervals and even drank water. I also watered the lawn during my hourly smoke breaks after I noticed that it began to sprinkle. With loaves of bread on my feet, I stood in front of my house with my face to the sky and my chin apart from the ground. It was rain when under me was the steam of a warm day. I was jubilant and careless so I stood there and let the drops crash on my face. When the drops stopped, I took my hose and pointed it toward the sky and waited for my own drops to land on me, hoping my face would look like a Pollock despite the fact that it was just my hose. It was just my faucet.

This is easy, I said.

I shuffled back in my house and found my bed, overcast for me while the fan broke my silence. I read aloud for a few hours because of the respect I wanted to pay the words then listened to music because it feels like I listen to nothing anymore. I tried to write a letter when a good song played on but I never got passed the third line. I couldn't continue such a letter because today I had airdried the rain drops on my face. So I ripped off the page, crumpled it into my hands, then tossed it in the waste basket. I continued to think it easy.

But then the wall that I pathetically stare at stared back at me.

And so I was sitting on a slipper wearing my two layers of pants, feeding myself with smoke, and thinking of the unexpected ways I could be killed right on my porch. I wondered if I could survive a bullet to my chest or being mauled by someone's dog while they took a night walk together. Maybe an insane person have been keeping tabs of my smoke breaks and will slice open my jugular when the hour comes. I was even inspired by a plane overhead and hoped it would crash on my lawn, smashing my bones but leaving my car in the driveway unscratched. There was no way I was dying tonight.

I thought it was easy. But the wall will stare back at me and I'll be on my porch, dazed with the thoughts of how I could get away with it. How I could find a shortcut to this thing I'm starting to think of so easy.

Long Hairs, Short Hairs, and Cannibalism

I watch them drive away in their cars. All of them. Scents stay and I sit alone for a while wondering how I could keep them. All of them. I drink and I think of them and their hair and how slow I move beside them. In a restaurant. In their cars. On my bed. Sometimes I forget that they're all different. That some eat me up faster than others. I am an animal but I'm the warmest of them all. I weaken and thrive on the moments time falters. My hand on their backs and shoulders and the space on their necks that fits me in no matter the woman.

I fell in love with this girl once and my bones hurt lying beside her. I'd drink some more and smile her way to pretend I wasn't deteriorating and shriveling and shrinking into the size she intended me to be. It was a war. It was vicious and quiet and she prowled for me without me even knowing. I can show you her teeth marks and I can show you the way she'd smile after every bite. But she'd drive away in her car. As they all did. She's only a girl but I never doubted to play the prey anyway.

Sometimes I'd oogle these damn girls and pretend I was packing something large in my pants. When my pants would come off I'd fixate on their faces and their mouths and my hands would fall off then roll under the bed where they're out of my reach till I find these girls on top of me, with their weight on me, dominating me, and all I can do is press my mouth against theirs and wait for the moment when time falters again.

I'm drying my sweat right now after watching a car drive away. They're not all predators, I just think they are. It fucking turns me on and I realize that eventually they'll eat me up so badly that shreds of my flesh will be left on my bed while my pants are on the floor next to my hands. I'd be in shreds but at least my pieces were fucking turned on.

I'd wait for the next one while drinking some more.

Belligerently screaming fuck you i love you

Morning Surprises

"You think it's so easy being friends with you"

This isn't gonna last.
I can feel the wine
from the night before
in the back of my eyes
They're red and yellow
tapping at the back of my head
and the same ass behind me
I snorted, sighed, and slurred
like a mule eating its own foot
Its own head and its own ass
This isn't gonna last
But I'll keep
a glass in my hand
Both of my hands
so to never try and chase
or grab
the same ass that
had me
eating my own foot.