It still haunts me, the way his arm fell off the couch like a rushing waterfall with no outlet to the sea that would, with time, become nothing but brittle cliffs. The subtle shallow breaths that lightened his lake a little every time, sighed slightly upon exhale when the pernicious odor leaked from his cracked lips. I am nothing to him. I am furniture that gets in the way. I am evidence left behind. With rage which has calloused my heart I can only imagine releasing upon him the same physical wreckage which he has laid upon us, emotionally. I want to let go, I want to hurt him more than I want to save him. 

When I start hitting him I cannot stop. The world turns black, I cannot see where I am steering the car. I end up half way off the road but I cannot stop. I am a demon, slave to the vengeance he has deemed funny until now, when the true horror of my inhuman heart tears manically at my own kin, my own brother. See what you have made?! I want to scream. But I don't. I say nothing. I grab hold of the wheel and throw the two of us back onto the street. 45 miles an hour, I am just like him. 

So narrow the glades of fastened acute
Pieces of swallows of childish repute
Endless and quaint, tallied and judged
Harshly upon wallows of cypher and aspen
Called upon as soldiers, drilled and re-designed
A picture so stolid and quickly defined
Sordid and peachy, insipid and kind
Not a bigot at all, a human body and mind
Coldly washed ashore the banks of south Maine
The frigged and careless garbage of crabs
The tiny parcels of beige and dense atom compounds
The fucking insanity of pierced heels and tattered toes
Eats at our body and fastidiously shows

The Way To Fly

This could be the bridge

May I be so bold to claim 

The dim lighting brewed bean smell 

That wrinkles in our faces hold it all 

The secret that formed constructs of religion 

The fettered wiggle free from grudges rope 

That with time and space 

The wrinkles again 

Which held for years await 

The darker deeper crests of weight and trial 

To the touch, softer than spikes recalled

And from demon eyes 

Rose human life in every form 

From malice, resentment, indignation

A child soldier 

From remorse, negligence, solitude

Widows of war 

From joy despite the soreness and ache 

The aged and illiterate 

The wrinkles, which examined closely enough 

Peer into the heart

The identity, though perceived at a time 

A monster as relentless as time itself 

Now only and simply a human form 

I am so sorry. 

this is no place for christian boys among us lost unsubtle girls 

we drink into the night and pass out on the bathroom floor 

and when the curtains all rise up youll find the scars of lucifer 

Im coated in the ash of brimstone but I swear it could be worse 

Everywhere I go I leave behind the poisons of this world 

My body falls limp in your arms, in a world all my own 

The bland of blurry eyes mold crosses into stop signs 

I'm sinking quickly into sleep - the lure that God designed 

i wont put up with this any longer

ill find a god who's not a ghost 

15 Things You Might Not Know About Me...

• The longest thing I've enjoyed doing is writing, seven years (but I secretly think I'm not very good at it)
• I never admitted my first love because he didn't love me and I knew he never would. It has been years and I still haven't really forgiven him for hurting me like he did.
• I think every uncle is a pedophile. And I have a hard time envisioning pedophiles as any other ethnicity except Caucasian. 
• I am jealous of Indians. 
• I am overly thankful for all my friends because when I was a child I was so overweight that I thought that I would have no friends in highschool and that no boys would like me and I would live alone the rest of my life. 
• I'm not scared of blood because of the night she bled on me. I'm scared of blood because of the time I didn't think it would stop coming from my own SI at 14.
• I saw my first unrelated penis at age 9 when my friend pulled up a porn webpage on our computer and told me it was funny. (She turned out to be a lesbian)
• My first 'C' in a class was in Bible. (I went to a Private Christian School in early elementary school)
• I feel like I am living a lie because my parents think I am a Christian but I'm agnostic. I can't tell them because they would be very upset by it. And I don't want to hurt them because I love them more than I can even explain. 
• I haven't spoken to my brother in 6 months, except in one letter to explain that I haven't forgiven him and that I was glad he found Jesus. 
• I am suspicious of every conservative.
• I wish Walt Whitman was not gay because his poetry turns me on. 
• I think city lights are just as beautiful as stars. (but not more)
• I'm in love right now. After almost 2 years I am still madly in love with him. (It is one of the greatest accomplishments of my life)
• I have many secrets I still can't tell. 

Sometimes I think that humanity is just a silly little constructed complex not unlike "society," or "civility," or "superiority." I often think that thought itself is just a reflex to the fiction of our individual reality - yet saying so presents the obvious contradiction. Yet in a strange way, I'm not sure you can explain the nonsensical with sense. And our existence is nonsensical, along with our thoughts, our concepts of reality, and certainly all intangibles. What really makes sense, in the realm of humanities 'humanness,' does not actually make any real sense. Our presence here on earth - whether it be by science or God - our constructs of social conduct, and our perceived emotions are enigmas fought over by various opinions in the world of scientist, philosophers, and anthropologist. 

Reality is only real because we make it that way. Reality begins in ones head, and plays out in an indifferent and unplanned world when we act as though it is so. It is our own lack of imagination that traps us into a "reality" we don't wish to be apart of. Though I can not say for sure, that would be speaking in absolutes (which I've heard one is never to do - which is yet another paradox). We make so very little sense. Slapping a ubiquitous perfect genie like paternal filler in the sky may be a readily available answer to our contradictions as a species but I find this explanation unsatisfying, and in general even more head spinning. Yet science, in all its intellectual trend and elicit sleek, does not proficiently explain the evolutionary benefit of altruism, morality, or emotion. 

Humanity and reality are simply concepts - and right now I understand neither.