Friday, February 18, 2011

“Broken HRT”

Smashing on the floor- my porcelain heart, broken into perfect parts: PAIN+LUST+REVENGE. A cold liquid of courage poring from the porous tunnels of this still beating slice of hope.

Minutes tick by 1 at a time-sometimesgoing back and forth as if a beat stuck in a stutter. I’m prescribed some fierce drugs and sometimes I feel as if I have traveled in time-I will black out for some time,..sometimes covered in blood.
            My own
Once, when I was about seven I had one of these sytoms. When I became cognoscente, I had broken the neck of my pet bunny rabbit  ALFONSE-actually twisting it off.  That’s when I discovered the rainbow of pills that one must swallow to regain some self preservation.  Even as I type, I’m feeling better than when I first began an hour ago.

After this little retort with my readers I will be off to clean my toilet and scrub my tiled floor with a new Colgate 360 toothbrush with the hard bristles.

Since I haven’t been on in a few days I wanted to tell you that for VALENTINES day I sat on my chair which faces a 3foot by 2 and a half foot window. With double pained wired glass. There I aided a fly who was stuck in Sally’s web which she had been building for the better part of a week. I wanted to see if I could save the fly. I know that it’s wrong to rob Sally of the tender morsel.  But at as fellow animal in a cage, I knew that this fly would be back and Sally would not suffer a meal.  I did succeed in rescuing the fly-I only managed to ruin a small portion of her web.

Sure as shit, the next day Alfonse was stuck in that web again-this time Sally beat me to the punch.

Off to clean the tiles of madness-

Friday, February 11, 2011

“The Mystical City of the Apocalypse”


The word BABY appears in the title of this lost city which was considered the hanging gardens-WHY?  Perhaps it is where we would rather be.  We all figure that once we are born our struggle is aided by a loved one who will watch over us until we are of age-perhaps it’s crutch, perhaps a tool in guiding us to become an adult that we are SUPPOSED to be.  I do not see things this way.  I wonder if we were left to our own devices of learning we would fair better in the world as to be listening to someone who is morally corrupt.  Is there a perfect ONE parent in the world?  If so, I have not met thee-I have not met a single mortal who has given me something I couldn’t have learned in a book or on television or have witnessed on the street.  Why must we insist on growing up with parents who toss us to the curb of ego.  Perhaps the best place for us is just BEING.

Yes it would be extremely difficult, but no more difficult than un-learning bad habits from a LOVED ONE who brought you into this world un-prepared.  Bears are born to hunt-
All animals have this instinct-as does man.  But it’s programmed into our personalities that it is BAD.  We stand by and watch the car accident or the shooting take place because it usually is out of our control and we would rather not get involved.

Does a Bear feel the same way-? I think not.

So you can have that site of the Hanging Gardens of BAYLAND-because it’s a fantasy that is paved with despair and tragedy.  In the end we go out the same way, shitting ourselves and hoping someone is there to clean up our mess.  The problem is that the people who love you more than their own life are already dead and you’re stuck with a drone of corporate greed that doesn’t give a rats ass on who you are.  The punch a clock and wipe another man or woman’s ass just the same.  Their love is the same as you and me-its in the form of green.


Except most peoples apocalypse is being caged like an animal and left to die under a caretaker who is happier to eat McDonalds, than wiping your ass.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

“from the Book of ISAIAH”

“And I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked for their iniquity;  and I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible.”

“Therefore I will shake the heavens, and the earth shall remove out of her place, in the wrath of the
Lord of hosts, and in the day of his fierce anger.”

I have been reading the “good book” as they call it-these like many passages, these manage to stay with me.  A very quotable piece of FICTION that I enjoy.  A baby was born unto this world I call sin.  Sin of the Father, sin of the Holy Ghost.  Innocent child why must you be subject to such of an array of disappointment.  Will you conjure the strength to lead such an army of demons that lay waste to our time.  Ssshhh-must you whisper your breath of life in my ear?  Must you cry a dialogue of truth which awaits us all?

My brother Sun tells us that all things will end the day you are conceived. 

            “Therefore I will shake the heavens-“
Give me one reason for my cure that I take from a pill?  A placid reminder of what will happen being left to my own devices.  I will lay waste to the sinner who betrays the trust of the unborn.

I smell the blood of the virgin as it stains the fabric of her loins-may I taste the salty discharge of her youth, wretched little whore, give me a reason not to seek vengeance against you.

My anger is not of this world, but that of which I am asked to do under the guise of madness.

Friday, February 4, 2011


Last night I chanted in my sleep. I only know this because this morning at recess Charlie told me that he pounded on my wall and was screaming me to shut UP!
It’s 8am

I am archiving records today. Dr. Lee feels it’s good to give me a job. I’m going through files that date back 100years, I found this picture which gave me a sense of calm. Though this is what I’ve looked like on occasion –the apes laughing at me as small incisions were made. But calming in the sense that the two gentleman come across very calm-almost enjoying what they do. Of course there is nothing wrong with that. You must be able to enjoy your work.ESPECIALLY with this lot inside here. They have these slight smirks that give it away.
I tell you there is nothing more uncomfortable than being in a straitjacket with needles being probed into your face. Once the tiney drill comes out and the long swab-it’s panic time. That’s what I hear anyway.he laughs inside.

Must use the bathroom before I embark on another stroll through the frozen tundra.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

“I am a white coat”

I stare down the corridor to a wild eye group of white coats.  I want one. So that, perhaps if nothing else I can manipulate the status quos.  All my friends that were here are now gone.  Friends I don’t mean the imaginary ones-I only have one of those.  Though Hermaphroditus doesn’t like to be called imaginary.The BEAST takes great pain in that phrase.  IT wants to pretend we’re family in the traditional sense.  I just can’t have that-I may have to ask HER to leave me be for a while.  I need to re-examine my status here.  People are leaving or dying.  By the hand that feeds-perhaps by their creator.

One could only wish that they were forged flesh from a mushroom or a hummingbird-perhaps it would make more sense or at least a tangible grasp on reality.  Trying to live your life to the fullest extent, propping yourself up there as if the all MIGHTY will see you among the sand pebbles.

A buzzer has gone off in my head and I lost my train of thought-though today I feel good writing. I’m not as hopped up on my medication as I was the other night.  I don’t dare read that insanity-that’s what the STATE does for me.

Back to my first tangent-
Point I mean-
The white coat-I need one. I want Jenna to see me wearing it. She may think I’m the badest of bad with one on.  I would be just like her father.  Except not ASIAN, no, no I’m a white bread all American nutty as they say here behind the curtains.

I looked outside this morning to see a mountain of snow.  Vast white landscape of wet just goes on as far as the eye can see.  My white coat and I would vanish in the drifts of the frozen wasteland.  They wouldn’t even know. Must think, how can this be  my only idea.

I have been in this place for ……………………………………..five years one month fourteen days-hours mean nothing. That’s pretentious. With  the exception of my stint out west last year.  What a nightmare-Hermaphroditus didn’t like that too much.

The google-eyed bunch that stairs at me through the chicken wired glass has no idea what I’m capable of-though I’m sure they might considering that they read all of this gibberish. But inside is a world, so full of empty you could fit a lifetime into my mind.  Lavender is the smell of my space between my ears.

I know this becuae I am told by Hermaphroditus that it’s IT’s favorite.

How could an imaginary family member know that?

I’m a better speller without the rainbow colored of pills in my system. IN fact –nevermind.

It’s 830am my leg is cramped up.  I have recess at 11am, I hope Francis is there today.  He is always playing chess with himself.  Some how his penis always beats him-ha!

Francis is a smart cookie-he can eat and shit correctly. Though the other bunch of apes in this place are not fans.  I think it’s because he smells like baby powder.  Who knows.
It’s 835am leaving my sanitarium to go for a walk in the drifts of insanity.