Bar passage 02.21.17

Honesty.
If I was to be honest with myself, with her, with whomever I latch my emotional wagon to, I would be brave enough to face those hurt faces; the sad, slanted lip, tiny open mouthed pains written on pretty visages. I hat them so much, I recall them daily as I am want to cudgel and flail myself metaphorically; the whole Catholic upbringing shit. Damn you judgy white hats, with your fake laurels and holier-than-thou overly curious digits.

I feel in me to tell, not to tell, am I saving myself or her. The ever-present her that always seems to come every.. year, biannual, lonely half-desperate existential period? Think I care enough about Her? No, unfortunately it is always about me. The favourite, the loved peer, the exalted inner Danny awaiting his forever Shine. So many bads and embarrassments melded into they all love me, cuddle me verbally, eyes so cordial and kindly. Sick of my openness and comfort effortlessly. Everyone says so approachable yet I should be lovingly. Ready.

So closed I get lost in the metal gears that shunt and stern the heartsing. Shards speak words that we afraid to speak, leak, spill onto digital paper sheets. Only brave when it comes to blogging. So utterly morose at the thought of femme loss, hurt faces.

Hurt faces speak volumes upon my deafened ears after years of selfish shit. Want to open but aware of the empty organs pumping materially.

1/24/17

Take the solace in solemn silent promises to twitchy McGee walls up

I could sit at the table with the pad so empty

So much white space it thrilled me then fearfully

Set up this desk for inkling inking

Architectural digesting passes through

Sketches and illustrates take a tick off my subpar

No one can see me tic running tick tock forever waiting for perfection

Perfectionist obsessive kid

Basement/office dwelling third place reversing

Adversity trumpeted

Bulked up to level this

Eyes on surpass but lacking push button confidence

Stuck to me, you, Irene too

Head jerking venting to release that dark stain joo joo

Screw the straightheads staring stone-faced

reject redirect Rob rejects

Upset relax meditate relapse

Pressure foments as my fingers bent

Curse the digits and hands clawing

Feel arthritic and Parkinson’s sick

High on the worry and losing the dismissive

Give in to obese obsess suppress subset stress

Feelin’ fine

Thankless

Spider Sense

Crystalline onyx color wonder marking spindly spiders casting their webs. Rubbing silky steel threads like seers of Grecian old. The web of rejection, negation. Rejecting self; I am no one. Cannot accept, abide, denied forward face! Pluck a petal look at thyself, he loves me not not not. Alice in wonder chains cackling at the mess.

Playing victim, Hording fiefdom, diddling scrotom timepass. Suffer rigid blades carving hate-filled sacs of delirium infinitum. Long for blades, metaphorical persuasions highlighting sexual preferences. Abuse me man. Manicotti, Manichevitz, manna dude man. Pour your misery down on me. Bathing beauty marked for character assassination, guilty frustration. Bevy of guilt; shame spray metal shards on bucolic fantasies.

Pristine little daggers jagger off, downslide into brittle skin. Huffy puff through and through; medical examination revelations. Sick fat sick hobble gobbed troll swiping pretty little liars. Fuck! Me fuck me so solly stereotype hype, tap some bong. Where to fit in, where to hang hats. Come home for dinner to empty nest relief too. No dragging stragglers into sand dunes. Bury me deeply dp sweet pea.

LSD, Lonely, Scared, Dead

I’m afraid I can’t help it.
I’m afraid of the world.
Afraid of getting in again.
And frying in the oil.
Every cursory experience.
Laid out for a whirl.
Every segment of a relationship.
Overclocking my brain.
Run run little soldier boy.
Take a pistol with you.
The world’s a scary place.
Full of venom and bile.
The people so vile.
Whole life on a trial.
Why don’t you crack a smile.
Little soldier boy.
Marching headlong.
Plagued with shadows and memories.
Until he goes senile.
Old man mumbling his words.
Wisdom out on the curb.
No possessions in all.
Dirty hands he just scalds.
Afraid of the atmosphere.
Germs and pollution they say.
Can’t bring himself to touch.
Not anyone round his way.
Decomposing in facilities.
Rambling man in the den.
Screaming out past memories.
And regrets of men.
He never loved no one.
Never gave in.
Kept them all away.
So no pain would get in.    
What a sad joke it is.
Pain comes anyway.
Cross the threshold to take you home.
And add to the flame.
Burner burner burning bright.
Effigy of a spook.
Frightened of the life.
He gave away as a kid.