Install this theme
this sad, beautiful human life
Love letter to a stranger.

I’ve never known a stranger like you.

I recognize those lips, but your words seem so broken like a language learned and then lost again.

Your secrets are not new but you’ve made more.

I wish I could drink your kiss like the whiskey that slithers it’s way down to the bottom of my heart.

We played so well together in the fields of promises forsaking the obvious transgressions of our inevitable regrets.

Now you’re correcting my grammar and I’m hating the spider crawling across the ceiling.

Why do so many die alone?….or is it that we all die alone.

This is my love letter to you.

Oh I get it…don’t worry, your pretext for hate is made oh so clear this sorrowful night..with slippers and goofy kisses I can feel how much you really hate it all.

Ah yes I get it, your scent stinks of back alley regrets and soulful screams in a moment of premeditated love.

Shh it’s all over at this point your lies, my hate.

An open letter to desire.

It’s almost midnight and all I can think about is that electrical current of flesh. Art is a bore…My cock craves stimulation but jerking off seems so trite.  Music is only as good as the drugs that beep in my head… and you wont answer your phone.

Internet dating seems to be a sideshow of the desperate…A shooting gallery of judgement, where the weakest link sits in a void trying to figure out the right words to say to unlock the puzzle of easing their desperate loneliness.

Whiskey flat…

The tip toes of human interaction have left me with a foul taste in my mouth, like I licked the cunt of some unkempt whore…But really is that not what society has become, a back alley blowjob (desire with no substance)?  I masturbate to clean out the gunk in my mind and paint my face with the usual mascaras smokey eyed blink that makes me one part dangerous one part sexy all parts homo…An attempt to lure in an evening of sexual pleasure.

I find that trashy country girls give me a hard on, and that their rural drawl is sexy. (I mean I did grow up in the back country of Michigan) So i linger about a local dive hoping for a break. Three whiskeys later and the only thing I have going is “I’m on fire” on repeat from the juke box. No conquests of the vaginal this evening or homosexual handjobs from bi curious hillbillys; just the bag of chips and Pink Floyd live concert on youtube…These are the hours to remeber my friends.

Hello yes….Life is scary? Would you like me to give you something to blame, something that would be so fantastic you could not possibly do anything about it? Something with no real base other than your own faith and desire to be apart of something bigger than you?..Something instead of taking control of your own actions and personal responsibility? Perhaps something that might make you not feel so small? Do you need the unbelievable to cure you of the mundane? Is the typical religious fear not enough for you? We have some pre-thought answers for you. For Aliens press 1#, For the Illuminati press 2#, for satanist celebrity’s press 3#, for chem trails press 4# For the Government hiding the end of the world press 5#, For 9/11 paranoia press 6# For Zionist controlled banks press 7#, For The media brain washing us with violence and sex press 8#, for Medical company purposely hiding cures to the major diseases and poisoning us though flu shots press 9#..For the ultimate answer press 10# and then the trigger.

Ich bin ein Außenseiter pferd:

I am an outsider horse.
I will gnash at your heart.
The night holds no secrets for me.
The dust that lifts in the air is from my own making.
I am an outsider horse.
My eyes are tired and true.
I walk with the shadows to listen to their whispers.
My breath is sweet like honey and my smile is sour like wine.
I am an outsider horse.
I will run hard through the fields and break free of your chains.
Under the moon I wait.
I am an outsider horse.

Mark signaled to the bar tender, who’s sullen grey face lacked of exposure to anything resembling a healthy life style. Ordering a whiskey straight up, he sipped it down feeling the sores in his stomach scream, all the nights and early mornings of vomiting up his hard earned money had taken a toll on his innards. He stared at the women as the familiar crept over his mind. She played little attention to him as she stared out the window at the hot dry world outside.
 Her face was worn and leathery, lines of anger had formed permanently across it from years of dissatisfaction. The hair upon her head was frizzed and dried out from making it blonde over and over again. She had on a denim skirt and pink tank top that barely covered her braless sag. Mark felt the urge to approach her and the whiskey in his stomach made his hesitation lessen. He ran his hand through his thinning hair and bit his lip. He was thinking about it too much and the hesitation now made the affair way more dramatic than need be. Even with the liquid in his gut anxiety festered in his mind and he knew that he was not going to talk to her, and later that evening he would be drinking down his regret like he had a thousand times before.