goodbye summer time

..tonight my fingertips are fire

i am too beautifully aloof to fuck with your miserable consciousness

there are days in this existence when it feels like time is eaten alive by wristwatches and irrelevance. and today is exactly one of those days. you see, 2 o'clock wakes make way to an afternoon of anticipation. sexy texts on stoops of gasoline dreams only to open potent cans of lateness.

yesterday i was a firm footed two-weeks notice. today i am a loyal employee leaking good evenings and yes sirs. but god be damned if i am ever to break bread with that man of success and misery. i am too beautifully aloof. "Cheer up, your not dead yet." not for nothing, imagine a motorcycle flipped on 9th avenue evenings. table cloths and chardonnay replaced by blood and concussions. imagine that. flash. flash. flaaaaaaassshhhh.

im a babylon-bound backpack maverick. paperclips. staples. and rubber bands. im just trying to keep myself together. im no different than you. maybe. that is, of course, assuming we are all crazy. im obsessed with colors messy, alphabet soup, and bass placement. my baby calls me bito. i like that. but for now, it's back to oblivion.

oblivion

i might leave tomorrow

oblivion

fuck it kid. i might leave today

and so began my summer month of circus..

i havent blogged in quite a minute. something like a serious sixty seconds.

i simply havent been inspired to visit this, my space on the web world wide.

today is no exception.

except for this exception.

god bless presidente.

alphabet soup

today i will create consciously. please. please consciously create. tonight. because i am tired and weary of blaming free falling fate for my misfortunes. my misfortunes rather are formulated from lazy creation. unconscious. non-sensual sense. in a sense i suppose. i am supposed to accept responsibility for my supposed state of being. my eyes are wide open homieee. and im only lonely because my definition of loneliness tells me that i am . in fact, i am so far from reality that my mind wonders through seasons in daydreams which take place anywhere but here. you have to ask me twice always. the first time merely wakes me from my sleepwalk. the second time i listen closely and look you dead in the soul. i dont see auras but i feel vibes like the illest symbol sample. some people just need to stop sucking so much. straight up. on some seriously serious shit. some people just need to stop sucking. i can find beauty in most creatures, but it's just that i hate you all regardless. so please excuse my rudeness. music is my messiah. i am at home only when im bounded by my headphones.

it is then that i can say to myself, "if this isnt great then wat is?" exactly. tonight i am vastly happy because i am consciously creating my patience in an art form embedded. let's give credit where credit is due. finger fucking this alphabet soup loosely. this type of pleasure shouldnt be allowed. but then again, im single so who the hell is going to stop me. certainly not my conscious creation... because this is exactly where she has taken me in the first place.

soo...why stop now?

..on second thought why not?

fart around

"Then I go outside and there is a mailbox. And i feed the pages to the giant blue bullfrog. And it says, 'Ribbit.'
And I go home. And i have had one hell of a good time.
Electronic communities build nothing. You wind up with nothing. We are dancing animals. How beautiful is it to get up and go out and do something. We are here on earth to fart around. Don't let anybody tell you any different."
-Kurt Vonnegut

The summer that stood. still.

lost in an evolution of self. sometimes it feels like ive done nothing so far but be. i exist for the sake of existence. and nothing else. im just a blob of blasphemous action and untapped potential.. sleeping soundly on a hell-bound greyhound. blah blah. ask for a third charm chance. the spare key was lost beneath a bluestone. life is liquid, smokescreens, and headphonesssss. fuck a phobia. this is the summer of sunday seances tallied on top of a nightshifted image. and that is exactly all for today. thank you very much.

if there's love...

if there's love... it must be three o'clock in the morning. because afternoon moods dismantle anniversary fevers sweating beneath apocalyptic ambitions. granted, the human mind is plainly limited in this contrived society of unbridled delusion. under the influence of institutionalized violence, finance, and dynasty. but worst case scenario...i wake up in a coma. socially awkward. walking towards infinity. the almighty trinity of instantly limitless faction. the fact is falsely fiction. this paragraph is in fact half assed blasphemy. and karma is impacting reaction to the most lucratively grisly degree. feeeed me.

please...

ok so i feel like doom. what exactly do you say at this time of day? besides goodbye, i guess. welcome to my world girlie. they say bartenders get mucho booty, but best believe i mix many more drinks than sensual juices. everyday is a new life to the wise man. perhaps that's exactly why i am twenty-one and a half years of age. still living this perfectly virgin existence. but every time i blink i dream and like every other manhattan bound commuter i bleed. freely. easily. and piece by piece i am indeed reaching combustion. which is exactly my fateful path.

that's why i laugh. 80's baby. 90's child. two-thousand something scumbag. i miss stick stickly, ninja turtles, and erckle. i think i got stung by a bee in my sleep. believe me. i breathe easy. live leisurely. and dock drama. leave it to lincoln. when one basement apartment is boxed up a block dies. for me, december is a long way off, but until then i'll ponder my portions and begin planning how the fuck i will afford life. but for now, i'm happy drying my socks on the cable box.