lady killer

music cums first! and there is something bout Saturday night. I can go anywhere I want! Hahaha

Just go ahead now

"I'm doing this right you see!" He heard the voice but couldn't see anyone in the room. He looked around frantically, there was no one there. "I'm doing this right you see!" he couldn't see anything. There was only him. In the room alone, four walls, barred, and a door, locked. "I can't see" he said nervously, his voice echoed in his solitude, alone, speaking to no one. "I'm doing this right you see!" over and over again. "I can't see, I can't see, I can't see!" he yelled throwing himself onto the ground in a panic holding his hands over his ears. He could still hear it, "I'm doing this right you see." He couldn't help himself anymore, "I'm lonely!" he yelled, "I'm scared, I hate you, I wanna hurt you, leave me alone please!" he pleaded with himself on the floor of an open space, alone. 
Then he woke up, infant in his crib.

His Prime

The tips of his toes curled as he relinquished himself of his stress. He had found it hard to finish alone, the event in its entirety is something that was meant to be done in a pair.... perhaps! His world was finding its way back to his adolescence. This time instead of being forced into the solitude, he was putting himself there. Realizing that it's within his own conception that he'll find the one to bring him in. In his youth he often found himself alone, ajar, and awake. In adulthood the same held true, except for moments. Moments when what he had to himself, alone, ajar in  his room, in his youth, were shared with someone else. And that sharing became the basis of the contextualizing of the vision of his now, so it no longer looked like his adolescent youth, innocent, it no longer was. He felt

I think about it because I'm green

I know they like to wear red lip stick just like my auntie Sammy

"It's like handling a real hot potato" a voice of a local DJ blared form Gary's stereo . He was two thousand miles away from home. Detroit Michigan was eating his dust. "Finally, I'm out!' He yelled pumping his fist out the open window. The March air still crisp, cool, he felt the blood rushing through his veins. Just up ahead he spotted a hitchhiker, a woman, in her twenties. "This has got to be too good to be true" he said to himself pulling over in his Mustang.
Quickly before the dust could settle from the car stopping she jumped in. "Hey baby, thanks for stopping! Where you going tonight?" a thin, long hair brunet asked with a wide pearly smile. All Gary could think about was how beautiful she was, stunning. "I'm going West, I'm fucking going to the ends of the world. Kingdom come!" He laughed, she smiled and he put the peddle to the metal.
The car was fast, and he couldn't help but move, with her. He could tell it thrilled her, she was a bad girl. She looked innocent but this chick could move he knew it. "So where are you from?" he asked. She looked over at him, "I'm Canadian." a release, and excitement tore itself through him. "I'm from Detroit, I love to party in the T. yo! All the time! You Canadian Girls are wild up in there, love it, love it!" He sat there running memories of him and his friends running a riot on the streets of Toronto. They always figured, "What the fuck? if we don't get caught." He looked over at her, "What's your name?" He asked, she was staring out the window. "Vee" she said softly "just Vee" smiling she put on her seat belt. Gary was going hard in fifth gear passing a semi. They were both excited, it was dark. "I'm Gary" he said simultaneously signaling his car back into the right lane after the pass. The radio, crackled "We're out of range!" he said, the noises started to fade in and out and they both reached to change the station, "Escape Convict ... Crack crackle...Weenenpe..." Vee turned it off. "So what do you think of Canadian girls?" she asked taking her seat belt off. He said

(That girl made it to Mobile Alabama that night)

nede

The man stood up saying enthusiastically  "As for me, and where I live, I'm surviving." He was a tall clumsy man with big feet. He stank of urine and his cloths were two sizes too big for him, his name was Adam. Adam was sixteen years old the first time someone from the newspaper came to his home to see what he was doing. "My house is my world, I am in control of this place." He of course was making reference to the basement he lived in. He had been found there by the authorities, two years ago, he was sixteen and he didn't want to return. "It's the daylight, it hurts my eyes!" He would exclaim to anyone who tried to remove him."It's the sun, I hate it, I can't even stand its reflection in the moon." His life was unlike any other, now a young man, at eighteen he stood in his cellar, emaciated. The Internet had fed his heart with its blossoming connections, yet he stayed away from the real world to try to avoid influence. "They always tried to control it!" he would say, when they asked "Who?" He just stared and looked back blankly at them.

stop

bye!
say hello!

My five fingers and you!

it takes all kinds to walk the line
who knows maybe not me
not mine
I think I understand
I like now, not knowing
the way to the top is a detour
a drop back in the bucket

I know what I own

Mug

"What went wrong! what went wrong?" he yelled, demanding out the window of the second story of his penthouse. "I would do anything to go back." again yelling out the window. It was raining and dark, there was lightning, but he hadn't heard any thunder yet. Frantic and spazmatic, he poured himself a half glass of whiskey, and drank it. Inhaling deeply he relaxed. Everything slowed. He stood in the living room of his home. Everything surrounding him, his. Built literally brick by brick by him, a fortress. "What could have happened?"  he asked as he exhaled, the whiskey just now really taking effect and warming his insides, burning. His path, his conscience takes another drastic change. His head drops and the rage ensues. Still holding his glass he lifts his head and looks out the window. Grinning he pitches the glass out into the darkness to hit the streets. It smashes on the concrete. He hears someone yell. Sitting there thinking of why. Touching his face, he realizes it's because he's ugly. Then a flash of light in the wind, outside, or was that inside, then the bang.

six sisters say it ain't so.

"I'm so stressed out and unhappy with myself, I'm such a loser baby, fucking kill me!" he said on the floor on his knees next to her, while she sat on the bed naked. She was lovely, but he was such a secret. If her father ever found out about their relationship he would disown her. "Why won't you do it with me?" he asked with this zombie like face. "I don't know!" She said, getting out of bed. They'd been sleeping together for two months now. They only saw each other to fuck. She loved him like that, she would do anything to see him except let others see her with him. He was gorgeous, immaculate. His skin glistened and he left her lonely. Without him she felt  empty. He was just empty. A young man, unsalvaged and angry, an anger mistaken for passion. She just wanted to watch him, rust with him, remain, romanticize, escape from the reality; she isn't who she wants to be. Neither is he, yet they know that and together in his bedroom, not one of them complained."I'm so stressed out baby, just fucking kill me!" he repeated.
She stood up over him, stretched herself into some yoga pose and said "I'm pregnant!