Tag Archives: you’re it

Journaling 8

i don’t know what is going on.

i have been trying my best, to make sense of all this, but it makes little sense. Should i go wait for her every morning like i did before? But i’m a partnered man now.

whatever… I don’t know what to do anymore. i just did what i do best; but i’m still unfulfilled.

find an apartment? make love to my partner? the power of the question? i gave sam half of my power; it was a gift. no take backs.

2. i’m tired.

3. i got to get meatloaf tattooed on my knuckles.

4. this is for Australia: It Is Finished.

5. i feel dead, but i’m alive. What does this mean?

6. salvation for Lucifer.

7. and satan and samael.

8. Forever.

9. Tech got me in.

9. anarchy for the win.

no title

disaster struck down river, engineering a fall from grace you enter remission. permission was given for the pass code; those explosives were too hidden for the oblivious guard. turning toward the sun she and you thank, thankful for security. Guarding your soft spot, reminiscent of descent, the quiet place silence made into the hole. packed, gird with plastique. where else to hide dissent other than vaginally. she asks you if her weaponeering has protruding visibility. you say, 'you are such the weapon.' she asks you if the plastiques will implode her uterus first. you look to the sun and think about craters. --=-- Cracking the lip, the blood reminds me of deranged faces, coming to me in my home, descent of the veil. Real intrusion into the body. Qualities of space disappear, forget for a moment, do something Goddamnit, do something already, break the vase, crack the lip, switch the players in the game, move the profusions below. the appearance of a possibility moves against submission. you raise your voice then, immediately the wind picks up, you listened to it, your own voice carried through you. the ashes left the urn. in the trap the costumes came to pieces as the players caved into the clothes they had always worn. the underworld danced to avoid oblivion. --=-- she loved the ball and not the chain; a breezy tree shaking it's good stuff. and all this is bare before the winter; she was your shadow. she danced at night. the lights are off.

resistance to the current, fight my friends,
fight for the coming of a golden age,
fight for your children, remember the
decision to bow, to cower before
your enemies, to give them your
desires, your thoughts, names,
personalities, even meaning itself
taken from you, for what?
is it about money? is it about truth?
is it about accountability, or justice, or
truth? is it about what it should have been
and what we should have had? is it about why
we feel so mad? in no way do such digressions speak
of your body, right now, as you read. in no way do they
tell the fucking reality, the possibility of your body.
this space, these hands, are yours.
this way, this clause and tongue, is yours, and your life
to make the day you want. now go. find
a way, a movement, a ghost to ride behind you, to
play the movement, the entity that is you, that is
a place for the head to start to turn and turn and enjoy the
getting, the going, the gone.

Gimme the Future with a Modern Girl

Wha? … Who?
Where are you?

I know the two people who i am
and the one persyn that i am
that no one else can be
but i still don’t know you…or
i don’t yet have you. So

reveal yourself, when we’re ready,
but love, don’t take your time. I need
to know you, to be with you
every minute of most days
especially the good ones.

Wha? … Who?
Who are you?