baby

always

god I miss you all the time

too busy being loud

when bae accidentally snaps her story

still me

still my favorite shirt

abba

anna is my favorite love.

She's home.

Nothing has ever made sense to me before, and I never quite knew what certainty was. Now I'm all in and I swear the world has its teeth out for us.

I just want to keep coming home. To keep this pair of fucking melting planets looking back at me. To wrap myself around her as tight as she's wrapped herself to me.

I remember telling all my past lovers that I could never promise a damn thing to them. People change and feelings change and promising things seemed foolish and irrational. Fast-forward to now. I'm sitting on my bed with the taste of this beautiful person in my mouth. With her scent lingering around me. Her sounds echoing. Her image perpetually unveiling. I'd promise it all. I'll say all the words and pour it out like a gushing wound that I am. And that certainty shit that I mentioned before?  I'm certain she'd stitch up my wounded ass.

This is that crazy love type that I'd always so blithely ridicule. We've got a honeymoon phase for fucksake. We're  disgusting. We display PA. Not giving a fuck about who sees. We're on the phone for 12 hours straight, and we've been at that for most of this damn year. I'm a teenager again going steady with the girl that I'd always had a crush on.

I'm mush. I'm a puddle.

I'm sprung.

Boing...

boing...

son/babymama

tey kehr

I don't drink coffee like I used to. 

I make a cup and let it get cold till undesirable. 

I purchase a cup and let it get cold till undesirable. 

There's a cold cup in front of me now, but it's not quite entirely undesirable yet. 

Fiddling with my left thumb and a damn dog bite. 

Like a black hole staring at me. 

I've had a small handful of cravings lately; both  excruciating and bearable. 

Sweet songs on repeat. 

Sweet words on repeat. 

I know I'd never stared that much before. 

Might've gotten married. 

I've a wife. 

And a kid.

And a house. 

And a life I skipped into. 

Kit Squad forever

drunk roll

plotless

"I don't know what to say to you, but I know I want to talk to you."

I once read somewhere that you don't just find another soul by accident. That, implying fate and disregarding coincidental sequences. But I never quite believe the things I read. Just the same as how I never read the things I believe in. For the most part, I don't believe in anything. This is something that took me a long time to understand about myself. I don't believe in things. I have nothing to prove and I want nothing to gain. I relinquish explanations into another plane of existence that doesn't contaminate with mine. Because of this, I shrug a lot. Because of this, I am stagnant a lot. But this isn't all too much about myself anyway. 

I once read somewhere that you don't just find another soul by accident. There are reasons. There are purposes. There are intentions. There's a destination and a resolution. I haven't quite figured out what they are and when I should encounter them. I do know, however, that this has the last track same as the sound of a car crash. 

"I don't want to do this right now, I just want to see you." 

The sound of a car crash repeats. The sound of rim on gravel while the neighborhood peers out their curtains. The sound of gagging. The dim, dopey lights. The groaning of anxiety.

We talked about how we didn't quite fit into each other's worlds. Like jamming towels in your already full luggage last minute. She said I love you while she laid on my lap and I drove us home. She said it like she's been saying it for years. Like a sentimental salutation over the phone. I said it back like I was on one knee. "You didn't have to say my last name," she smiled. And I knew she liked the ring of it.

"When do you think this will end?" she'd ask. "We can't keep doing this." I never answer because we both know we don't want the answer. But I'll kiss her anyway. And she tastes like always. Not like a promise or a swear. Just a comforting always. Like taking in a breath. I haven't loved in a while, I realize.

This will not end well. Our unwillingness to sacrifice each other's worlds is the sound of this crash. Maybe it won't even be a crash. Maybe it'll be the sound of fading out. I'll take this happiness for now. I'll love as much as I can now. Because she feels damn good. And I forgot how good feels to be loved this sweetly. If it was all up to me, I'd gamble everything. In the mean time, I'll just drown out the sound of the end with this pounding in my chest. 

pavement gazing

the anxious neurotic and the manic depressive

smoke breaks and dysfunctional affairs
sick stomachs and sick shifts and sick uneasiness
stubborn uncomfortable
noses stuck up and mounted on giraffes
try to laugh right
laugh and try right
life like anvils
let's just have a smoke break

every morning puppitos

dear delight,

romantic

"Aye. You got me?"

"Ye I gotchu."

Nothing warms my heart like being gotted, to be very honest.

daytrip with honeybear

aa

these assholes have been my bestfriends for as long as i can remember

th

rare pic of daddy skydiving in the pool with my pet pool spider

smitten soft serve lost in the sauce

best friends

"And in his eyes he had the look of the cat who inspires a desire to caress but loves no one, who never feels he must respond to the impulses he arouses."

Anaïs Nin

Daddy's Home

To celebrate the homecoming of my beloved laptop, I sit here on my desk bearing the undivided intention of a complete and sincere entry. I can't remember the last time I was here, but everything beneath my fingers feels like home. Granting myself my own sentiments, this is has been a long-awaited happiness. 

As I was driving home a few moments ago, I thought about what I would write about first. What I would publish out first. And the only solid content that came to me is how I am my own static character. I'm flat. I have months worth of evidence (years if I'm readily to return to my typical self-deprecation).  But maybe it's too soon for that. Or maybe it's all too tired for that. Something has changed, surely. Unfortunately nothing that I can put in my own words. 

My dog is asleep on my bed. She, and this moment alone, could keep me contently here for quite some time. She's got the hiccups. Maybe she can sense my excitement. But really, she'll just happily lick her feet beside me, and I'd probably do the same. My girl and I are meant to be together, and this is the first time I am experiencing this type of love. 

As for my well-being, I still have all but significance to say. If it's possible that I have less to say, I couldn't be surprised. I don't feel miserable. But the stagnance remains. The looming nothingness remains. I talk and think less about death (maybe?). I talk and think less about most the things I'd obsessed about. My focus steadies on my entanglements. Distraction after another. All to avoid the seriousness that's always bored me. I might just be relieved that I haven't felt hateful in quite a long time. Pat myself on my damn back. 

Half of my friends are graduating and getting on with things to get on. I peer into their lives sometimes and take note of this pride I have for them. This spectator happiness that I nod their way. It's comforting really, to know that somebody could be doing alright. The other half are getting more lost. Or staying off. Or breaking down. There's a silence for that, but we don't talk about it anymore because there's nothing to talk about. The silence is to confirm what's already understood. "This too shall pass" being the sound that echoes intermittently. 

To close this off, I'll confess that I had been watching the Warriors' games. It brings me nothing but anxiety, frustration, perspiration, and embarrassment. Unfortunately, I will see it through till the last game. I'm in too deep now and I currently do not know who I am. Can't even tell if life is better off this way. No matter, I raise my eyebrows to myself. 

babies

baby

baby

fuckin homies

cute friends and cute girl

soft/wet

been fly

Life

I am indescribably happy for Sof.

I think I might be swelling with pride.

lapin

My couch and cold sweat. If I'm not on the goddamn phone, I wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. Drenched enough so that I'd have to change into dry clothes. I have these mundane, tedious, but dreadful dreams about work. Like I'm constantly being grabbed by the head with these huge ass grubby hands pushing me down. I sweat more than my best 3mile run. I sweat more than my best cum. If I'm not on the goddamn phone to sleep, this is how I sleep.

I feel weaker now than I did before. Lazier. More lethargic. Listless. I hate missing my previous job for how easy it was. I hate how mentally grueling this new one is. I can't even describe what makes it so unbearable. I just know I can't keep still.

My father hates me for being drunk all the time. My mother hates me for being drunk and for being gay. Didn't anticipate just how homophobic she is until she found out. It's stormy in this house, and for the first time, I'm sincerely considering getting the hell out of here.

I somehow always expect things to make sense the longer I live this life. But it just keeps getting more confusing, less satisfying, and a fuck load more tiring. And annoying. I couldn't forget annoying.

I must admit though, there are the few things that clasp me by my hand and shake me awake.

chained

enslaved by pretty pussy

handsome baby girl

by ace's house

me, actually

cc cheer

Newport hundreds bummed like an entitled vacuum, the kind dogs fight with. I watched a toilet overflow and refuse to flush. Then I stared it down and quietly hexed it. After 5 long seconds of stillness, the fucking thing swirled down just the way I wanted it to.

Georgie, my darling sweetheart baby. I'd never heard anybody talk so loud and so carelessly. He said that every city he touches turns into "f*gville". Then we touched some places together and even those turn into his own pool of goo. Charming fucking man. I feel unstoppable with him. The queen and the queer. And I'm certainly not the queen.

I can't stand counting money.

The difficulty of grasping a very particular fact is astounding. Not everyone can make anyone come. "You didn't come?" Get out of my fucking face. It's becoming more clear to me why I stayed as long as I did with my last relationship.

I revealed to Georgie that I'm not actually a lesbian after spending weeks of allowing him to assume so. But I also told him that I don't fall in love with guys. Homoromantic bisexuality, but who wants to get into that shit? I am starting to like not receiving the assumption that I'd be straight. Still, some people are fucking clueless.

FSU at it's peaking point. FSU and Ace isn't even home yet. FSU and I keep finding new rock bottoms. Fuck shit up, fuck shit up, fuck shit up.

This is me trying to get over this. This is me trying to get over her. This is me burying my face somewhere else, anywhere else, so long as I don't think about that face.

bad fucking week

every single day

Am I acting up again

straight fucked

I didn't need to say "bless you." I didn't need to buy mouth wash. Didn't need to apologize so often or say it's ok. Didn't need to say hi so fucking cheerily. Didn't need to justify why prostitutes should be protected too.
I didn't need to wait for phone calls or peer out the window. Didn't need to sing along to songs I went out of my way to learn. Didn't need to be the designated driver. I didn't need to hold a goddamn hand, with the other on the wheel, while craning necks for all those kisses that I pulled my eyes off the road for. I certainly didn't need to let pry open those pages or read aloud those short stories until I heard the light snores. Killed the sarcasm and professed nightly, I didn't need those either. I was fine not needing. I really fucking was.

knots

In the morning I smell like Mexican food and at night I smell like seafood. I smell like heaven during the in between and I probably taste like it too.

Stabbing. Slicing. Grazing. Cold metal and no clothes on. Trash and cash in my pockets, covered in half-chewed spearmint gum. This is devious. The air out is dry. Moist palms but grabby hands.

I will stack them however I please.

ss mf scoundrel

My tendency of hitting on other foo's girlfriends is starting to get fucking out of hand. Bad enough for me to have to acknowledge. Too into tryna steal your girl. Fuck.

I can see the look on all their faces that they're itching to punch me in the fucking face.

burnt

that's me. I'm burnt the fuck out. I'll get whipped in the face with this overwhelming urge to quit everything. Every now and again, the thought rises and it comforts me. But I know I wouldn't try that shit again. I can't even fucking think straight right now.

tuna

This idiot loves me.