I like to think of my self as uncorrupted.
Just try to be cool.

Another day finds rest
at the ends of cold keys.
On the living room wall
bleeding in hallways
& questioned at each covered window,
these conversing steps beam,
with frays and absent seams
to a tangling calm within a sea.
Weeds here wind with our limbs as we die.
we tire and accept our fate,
we float and watch the sky.
Clouds as white horses, move east.

Time to sleep.

And once worried heads rest,
they run dry their songs
and follow peace with distance.
In dreams there is no strain,
no covered windows to meet
or conversing steps to dim.
Hymns wander far as they ever had,
conceiving wild tears across the plains
and quiet in the valleys.
Some lay ashamed on their backs,
others fall to knee and beg god to stop.
and the children share gazes with the people they trust,
but eyes those have already wandered far ways.

Here come raveling around my head dreams of golden green, and dearly spoken hope, cool and low. i sit and wait for aeroplanes, about me are men lacking eyes and girls, ashamed and bothered reckless. and if the glass had lips, they would speak in tongues of morning light, and this time, reserved for looking forward and they would shake from there those infant lips the distractions of night. Engines scream for brightness to settle in hidden places and I slightly bow my head to show my sympathy. From the corner of my eye, there is floral like that of the fern occupied in ruin, printed upon cotton and draped over a body, deprived, journeyed, and as restless as an hour before sunny rain. This, i took as a service of Sunday as she approached and reached for to take my hand alike with hers, and in liquorice motions in her eyes and in the placement of her tilted head as to say "how do I seem?" and a moment comes between as I come to say, "as well as me." and all concern floated on the surface as delicately as a kiss for the sake of kindness and I'll never find a better place lest the tides of all the seas rebel and ask for our ears.

Two blues eyes on skies that're the same.
Below, one thousand changes.
I story, bare, to answer the meaning of life.
Eyes retreat for the here and now.
Mountains move us with time.
Spoke low, desperate, and true.
For the sake of the wise.
The struggle of learning to die.

Starry-eyed message received,
A night commits murder,
when taken in strides like these.
A day rarely remembers sleep.
A fight is unfinished, dirty eyes.

Review it.

Yesterday, the lady on the LKLP bus told me that she was in love with me. I was sitting next to her, and I put my hand on hers, she started into what would be a 23 minute sob story about her divorce and how much I reminded her of her dead husband, the husband that she loved. It was a sad story, yeah, But all I could do was give her some love, so as we sat there stationary beside the highway, my hand moved to into her right thigh, her other hand left the wheel. But then the crying started again and she asked my age, I told her the truth, she couldn’t do it, I was disappointed in a way. What she did do for me is buy me a pack of cigarettes and take me to work.

The day before. . .I made it home from work. When I opened the door and put myself through the door, with the first step my eyes closed, and I saw two blue eyes, my vision got hazy, I covered my face and fell to the mattress in the floor, all I could do was try to cry myself to sleep. Even tears couldn’t replace dot, so I Put on my favorite album by The Cure and made it through the night. . .somehow

Patsy Cline has her own strip of highway
I got a spider bite
I lost the lottery
I'm a werewolf spider

Over yonder stands little Maggie, with a dram glass in her hand.
She’s drinking away her troubles, and courting some other man
. Oh, how can I ever stand it to see them two blue eyes.
A shining in the moonlight like two diamonds in the sky.

Pretty flowers were made for blooming, pretty stars were made to shine.
Pretty women were made for loving; Little Maggie was made for mine.
Last time I saw my little Maggie, she was sitting on the banks of the sea.
with a forty-four strapped around her, and a banjo on her knee.

I’m going down to the station with my suitcase in my hand
. I’m a going to leave this country, and I’m a going to some far distant land.
Go away, go away little Maggie--- Go and do the best you can.
I’ll get me another woman; you can get you another man.

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're alseep
And kiss you when you start your day

And a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I

. . .and Ren sings "memories"

Here I am at the Laundromat again, I was really pissed off that I because I was going to have to choose between washing towel or my clothes, but I just said “fuck it” and put them in together, I think that I may have overloaded the machine though. Oops. . .

You know I only kill for decency, fillin up heaven with people who mean so much to me.

I am on a constant natural high now, the air is wild. I would say I sit outside 80 percent of the day now. Its my new home. Oh, my clothes need to dry now.

They have a free shoe box in the Laundromat, awesome. I am gonna check those out now. Ah, just a bunch of funky woman shoes. My natural high is now going to heighten, I can shower and dry off, and then put clean clothes on, wow, that’s a really nice thought.

You know, I think that this is the first entry in a pretty good while that I have really posted for no good reason at all.

This guy, he thinks the world is gonna end, I think he wants a reason to die. This girl, she doesn’t know what’s going on, she’s kinda SADisfied, and its so awkward, because they are around all the time.

The female guest next door is tripping on Ecstasy.

Matt is boring, he wont take me t the gas station. I have 9 dollars, well 6.50, because I got a a bottle of water and washed my clothes.

Jump my bones with an ATV.

Today, nothing much to say about that, I sat outside most of it and played on the internet and now, here it is 7 am and I am finally realizing yesterday's formal end. I just got back from my brothers long time friends house up the road, lots of MegaMan and Aerofighters are to be played on these visits, Adam is a swell fellow. Mountain Breeze was certainly thriving with motion and sound today, I was snagging wireless on the "back porch" and some little kidcame up to me and hung out a while, the weird people who want to be worked on their chevy trucks and cool, burnt out and revved their engines when they got the trucks to run for a little while. I like seeing it though, not because it is a bunch of rednecks exactly, but it just says something to me about progression. I can see a touch of light in the sky, the bluish kind that you see in the morning, the light that sometimes has to remind you that you have been awake to long or woke up at a decent time. I miss the sleep I got in school and waking up this early, I think. The outside looks so glum, I think it needs a hug, I'll ask Jessica to do that, she has school this morning. It is to late to write for me, and sleep is sounding pretty good right now, and my back is hurting right now, and I am quitting right now, now. Goodnight all, I will write more after I make friends with some shut eye.