its tiring fighting the future.

it makes you laugh,
brought down the house
we sought intervention
but were still lost.

i am really good at being moody. But i cant help myself. i havent read a book for a while. I have a receding hairline, comb-overs loom. We are watching Roger and Me in class, why are we so crazy? I want to go to far away places. Its lame in checkers that you must jump when possible.

had a party this weeked.
it went well
I am a bit tired and things like this. No excessive drinking for me, yuck.

Bm G D
Stupid Idiot Mother-Fucker

Bm (stupid)
G (idiot)
D (motherfucker)

hit song.

In the year 2000...
Is there anything that we can do when we grow up that is work, but isn't? I don't want to work some lame job to buy laundry detergent and toliet paper. Then I think is there is a "job" that will not be lame. Are all jobs lame by their mere nature. And right now I don't know. I want to say I am scared but that is just a cop out, i am not scared of what is coming but rather what might not come or what might be taken. something like that.

somber sky.
gray.
this seemingly lifeless color has power.
gray.
we all feel it.

the rain. melts me like waves on the beach.
drip
d r i p. d r i p.
stars fade when you gasp.
yellow lights infest the dwellers in my scalp.
forcefield, I have erected one.
take cover under the falling sky.
echo takes form under pale lights.
melted sand and fake tree phenolics help me create.

sometimes cuss words are so much fun.
other times no, they never add to character but shit.

Summer is approaching and I am excited/scared. full time job, hopefully six hours of class.
i only think of being tired.
but maybe I am just being dumb thinking that.
grown-up is very scary.
huh.

eat the fucking mango,
bitch.
nothing more to add.
i fall down.
rhymes in my mind,
leave it the shit alone.
why do i feel so dumb.
idiot.
fucker.

falling swiftly thorugh the grains,
my weight the same as my shadow.
i have become the same as i was.
reflections keep me bound,
ready to pounce.
far from here the sun rises again.
milk from a mother makes martyrs whole.
tone like a vapor escapes through my grasp.

went to the ultimate "colleg"bar tongiht,
they played ingformer by snow.

a headache loooms/.

i feel weird.
i feel weird,
is all she said as he walked away, slowly.

forced to create a face.
sad.

ketchup flows like the rain of a volcanoe falling down the silly sky.
green isles.

flickers of desire in the form of seeds.
planted in the gr oun d.

growing with unrest.

across my chest the words of time.

erased myself from the line in which i am drawn,
closer to the .

alone.
alone.
alone.
alone.alone.
alone.
al o ne.
alone.

alone
alone.
i fall asleep to the sound of the dial tone.