| 24 hours and counting on my scores00.it'snotimportant to me whether any of you read the following. |
[04 Dec 2005|07:47pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Nine Inch Nails:la mer:The Fragile. |
] |
My book has pictures in it, whereas yours does not.
Sitting in a restroom stall, I note my current vulnerability
Could my eyes meet those of a stranger through the cracks
between each payne at this very inopportune moment. Shrugging it
off and storing it in a drawer up there with
comments on my coat (or lack of one) I pick the germs from my hands
and set back to my little desk.
Sitting at my throne, I
pull out the goods, read through my recent vulnerability,
set down my caffeine, seize nicotine and accompany it west
ward with now one folder of vulnerability and another of
discomfort, I had ironically plucked, by accident, from
my brain. I review my vulnerability. I review my sex life
wistfully awaking it, but it sleeps one with it's bed as
an arm sets upon a shoulder sitting at the peak of a torso
a penis waits at the bottom. I'd like to have sex, not for the
affection or any internal sensation it may send about my body, but
for the warmth of another human being in this no degree weather.
I set such thoughts aside, and for at least the hundredth time
this week, I reevaluate my nomadic associations within my social
architecture. Alone, I may be within my people who are among another,
but alone I must wish to be, at least until the following
assumes its position. I'll try not to lie as much in this one. I'm
not speaking of any relationship, just of periods in my life involving
no single accomplice (but hopeful for one, nonetheless). \\
I look
in the mirror trying to find something to think to myself, "I cut
my hair so that you won't notice my splitting lips and lack of a
coat, but I'm shivering more now." Trying not to worry what sort
thoughts might you all think of me no longer writing in this
journal following this post, I have now gotten that portion out
the way. And looking up in hope like a dog upon hearing the sound of
a faithful-owners car engine returning, rearing into the driveway, I'm
going to rid myself of all such thoughts
and make my way to my warm bed.
And warmer thoughts.
CREATURE: something created.
CLAY: a human body as opposed to the spirit.
you're all so eager for the next representation, aren't you, BITCHZ.
|
|
| Butterfly kisses with "eskimo" eyelashes. |
[26 Nov 2005|02:43am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Cex:you kiss like you're dead:Being Ridden. |
] |
HIGH.
say hell
Invasions of my delicate self-corruption,
stay home so I may enjoy my humble lifestyle.
some pleasant, of course.
The morning dew turns to frost, the
houses float above the grass, and b
asements yield to exist.
The teardrops
are retarded and can look somewhat like
a diamond sea (indian blood) in the back of a
late seventies wood panel downstairs. The town
we live in isn't small enough, but the town
I have made for myself makes it seem so. May I shine
your shoes, they don't make them so
bright these days. "Is that so." It really is. "What
a shame." I'm sorry, there's something in your eye.
"Did you get it." I can't tell, can you feel that.
"My vision is a little fogged." How about now. "Are you
trying to..." May I. "Yes, please, shine away."
I called 911 and watched the second floor fire fire.
Fire's loud like my stomach.
|
|
| "Pootee-phweet?" it asked. |
[15 Nov 2005|11:59pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Four Tet:she moves she:Rounds. |
] |
kn
There's a scar where I severed my
right horn. The day is a glass
of water, and was. Superman, barefoot, I
always seem to fault at my most heroic
moments. Butterfly the motherfucker
right up, a bungee. Chagrined
embarrassed, no, not yet, here's your fuckin wheelchair, now pose. Naked.
oo: with a leper's smile on my face.
falling from height which any fearless
man might consider himself diagnosed with
acrophobia, the thought settles, as it
may in any man approaching his fate.
What ever would I think up at this rare point
prior to death? Is there any time to ask myself:
"Surely I will die upon impact, but will it hurt." I ponder.
"Maybe a cloud will catch me. I'll buy the farm, but may we cut a deal. Skip the grotesque and direct me to the angels." Thank every god time allows--.
Once a gay ram.
|
|
| --Jean Claude Van DAMN! you look fine. |
[03 Nov 2005|06:05pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Prefuse 73:just the thought:Surrounded by Silence. |
] |
It's a swamp thing.
Walking with the clouds, your
footsteps are clatters. I long for
that look. Ruining myself sounds
far too satisfying, but there's
never too much satisfaction is
there. Spear a blacky, gun down whitey.
If you find weed in a birth control pill package, enjoy. It was lost today.
Therefore guess who's looking for a dime.
|
|
|
[01 Nov 2005|03:06am] |
when given the chance to save one person on the face of the planet, during some sort of mass death
I'll choose myself.
|
|
| ENALOLWHe. |
[31 Oct 2005|08:42pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Khanate:capture:Capture and Release. |
] |
Dicks coming head-first out of:
destroying everything is stupid. I
can spoil every nostalgic artifact
stored in my basement, but it all glows
like the force and krazy glue. I'd waste
my time missing my "good friends", but
there have been so few, and now that's
all I really can do with them.
I tried to buy a condom(as a joke) out of one of
those condom-vending-machines (in st. joe?), but it
ate my money. I can't even tell a joke
with money anymore, but I guess it's
fun anyway, to tell it here and all.
this weekend was great thanks to:
Ashley Wick, Doug Shinner, The faux German art teacher, and the entire BAND, WHY?.
oh, and Drew something-or-other.
I'd also like to thank most(all but very few) of my friends for their incompetence.
|
|
| "Did you smother it?" |
[24 Oct 2005|10:55pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
cLOUDDEAD:jim breeze (1):cLOUDDEAD. |
] |
Hell no.
The conductor has summoned death upon
my humble Lasagna. To the worlds most appreciated
rodent: fuck you for dying. See you in the
greatly anticipated rising.
"I brought you into this world, I ought to be able to fuck you."
that's a pretend quote, I made it up. It's
make believe, it's a joke.
Oh, and Rest In Peace Rosa.
|
|
| "Cryptic, indie post", the grays fail to communicate. |
[21 Oct 2005|12:08am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
boards of canada:satallite anthem Icarus:Campfire Headphase. |
] |
"right at the meat of things."
The UFO's are coming, their whores
are amazing, and cheap too. Nearly
a hand full, but they fit in each cr
evice on an ink fingerprint. Happy fucking
sleep paralysis and your mogul spy balloon
came down crashing, caused a ruckus. How
ever will we associate extraterrestrial life
with the bible. It's an eye opener, and
we're talking over sized black eyes, it could
take a while. I wonder their gas prices.
where is my action, where is my love related
conflict. I like long walk on the fucking moon and
every other 135 planets in sight.
ater.
|
|
| BAT*TUE. |
[12 Oct 2005|12:55am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
boris with merzbow:"Sun baked snow cave". |
] |
a deer for an eye
& marker to draw $$$'s.
What's next, let's nest. Let's
break a bush, let's burn a few
bunnies, make a few calls. This
animal is under construction, or
control or whatever.
Grandpa will have a funeral, he'll
die soon I suppose, obstinacies and
interventions. Those peevish eyes
are blank now. I guess I'll take
the ashes, spread them upon an
indian burial ground, because
I doubt they made any burial grounds for cowboys
Bring three toy sports cars and some
toys to fight for independence on his
deathbed and further in the coffin (for your urn will be a holy grail).
Will we ever speak again Anakin S. No.
"Ladies first"
Nullified speech patterns, you huff
ed and you puffed, and you stopped right
there, perhaps to find your trumpet, to
blow this bulwark down, up AND away. I'm not having you{ I hate this researching, and it makes me happy to see that synth pop is "in", because it sucks and so does.
"KEEP SHOOTING THEM INDIANS."
|
|
| Y. |
[09 Oct 2005|01:54pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
WHY?:act five:Elephant Eyelash. |
] |
"There is no grace in act five,
only the nerves
Insect leg twitch
and involuntary bowel movements
and confusion.
A snail in salt doesn't fall asleep
with a half smile
like gramma from the afterschool special.
It twists and contorts it jerks and
writhes for sometime like
a livin severed limb on fire.
And all the people who taught me
card tricks are dying
I've been trying
to gank my pop pop's
good looks from old snapshots
And even if
the world is saved
and the couples kiss
before the credits list
There will be more
Than a lifetime of death
In the scrambled signal snow that's left
when the blackened tape runs out.
The invisible frames death tacks
to your movie reel
far out weigh
the reel itself.
"And all the people who taught me
card tricks are dying.
I've been trying
to steal my grandfather's
handsome from old photographs
"A circus tent
and all the
folding chairs
fit in
and old
coffin for travel."
|
|
| "nobody knows them words these dayz." |
[03 Oct 2005|11:58pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Fog:fuckedupfuckfuckedup:FOG. |
] |
When I kill you in my sleep, the bla
ck boy shouts three (tres) obscenities
from the front of his throat, where
the frog is, not the horse, that's too
close to home, and I'm not talking with
my heart right now.
As I fight you, your
eyes go black, your bleeding retentive
brain stains the carpet purple, and the stap
le remover mouth of the dog out back, creates on
obtuse, cracks, slaps, and the blood stains my
mouth maybe purple. The golden ardent eyes go black
and roll black.
fuck you pussies for your effrontery and black and pink and 3.
SPURNED!!!.
SWALLOW YOU WHOLE.
|
|
| ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Scalp level, PA. |
[26 Sep 2005|07:33pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Oxes:half half and half:OXXXES. |
] |
I am a bleeding, smoldering, fucking rotting dead pig
gy with human ears. Clear me you inferior cunt++++++++++++++++
he ones, that breath.
what would we be without excretion???1
|
|
| CHARLATANIC FUCKS, |
[21 Sep 2005|04:55pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
El-P:delorean:Fantastic Damage. |
] |
such as myself.
I'm down.
|
|
| counting up, but the sky doesn't care[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[]] |
[17 Sep 2005|02:51pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
sole:tokyo:selling live water. |
] |
35% dead and it f
eels like the rest is to be plastic surgery, "Went in
at four came out at five." You can pick off
my scabs if you'de like, I know I would. Hang
on, I should go put in my false heart if we are
going to do this.
.Oh, really, no, okay then I
won't bother. My brain's rebooting, processing, "
would you like to charge your legs, they're quite
weak (roughly the breasts and thighs)
and did you see that pencil sticking out
of your right hand what ever will we do
about that. Forget it, maybe.
Pertinence lost, it never existed for any of you.
FUCK OFF.
my stars is fucking fucking fucking, and fucking really.'''
|
|
|
[17 Sep 2005|02:12am] |
|
Erase,
|
|
| my littlest mini-van: |
[16 Sep 2005|01:09am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Sigur Ros:slosoli:Takk... |
] |
Chip off the old block, f
illed in with tar, not like
my lungs, but like my Dinosaur
wings. Beautiful, lovely,
Beautiful, lovely girl your sun
shines upon my sunburns and
I blister up and POP, a fresh pool
of me and my misery. Hop in, I'm warming.
up
*stab my head.
|
|
| lick it of the. (pr) |
[12 Sep 2005|11:49pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Gang of Four:ether:Entertainment. |
] |
Catch these stairs on fire, it's
your teeth, they're running. The
y're running__something, but I can't
quite put my finger on it at the tip, the tip of my tongue.
rotten rotten dairy smell.
{you can use my skin as a personal parka
when it's cold inside. I'm all lights and
bright ones too, help me guide you to
thhhhe freeway. With a little super-glue
and a few feathers.......................}
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
creature___clay's journal
