Half Blind We Wrote These Songs on Sheets of Salty Wood

If there was no way into God,
I would never have laid in this grave of a body for so long.

I'll be gone this time tomorrow

And, Christ, when You're ready to come back,
Then I think I'm ready for You to come back;
But if You want to stay wherever exactly it is You are,
That's okay, too...it's, it's really none of my business.

Sailing away from this whore house I sleep in. Away from the thirteen year old sluts that crawl around my carpet in the morning when all reasonable people are still asleep. Away from all the empty Jones soda cans of my room and perfect hockey puck espresso shots of work. Away from those I love and equally those I dislike. Into a bed where I'll sleep alone. From the lake to the ocean. The South to the Caribbean. Fragments

I must confess, I'm glad to see it go.

Peace.

Id never want someone so crass as to want someone like me
But a few legues off the shore I bit a flashing lure
And I assure you, it was not what I expected it to be
I still taste its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
Its a memory as useless as a rod without a reel

The God I Believed In Worked On A Campaign Trail

I know its 3:30 and I shouldn't write because I'll say too much, or make it too emotional, or too simple.

Today my father was talking about the eerie weather and joked about it being the end of the world. My mind saw Jesus sporting a peace sign and a full beard, riding down on a billowing white cloud to save a few and condemn the rest. And while the world was separating in my head I was standing between the two groups, the believers, and the non-believers. The line was drawn but I was straddling it. Sometimes I don't know if God will forgive me for doubting him, for betraying him, for blaming him. They always said in church that I shouldn't have doubts about where Ill end up, but I have no idea. To be honest, I don't even understand what gets you into heaven anymore. I don't think its believing, belief isn't a choice. But they say it isn't actions either. They say its Jesus, but whats going to make Jesus want to take me there with him? I don't understand it, but I really want to.

I'm frustrated with the church because it feels a lot like every time I go to one they either give off the impression of "if you re not here to worship than leave" or they just flat out say it. But that's me half the time. Sometimes I go because I need to see God, sometimes I go because I want to learn, to hear what someone will say. Every church would tell me they want me there, but I have yet to walk into one that acts like they do. I just need to believe that God is better than the reflection in his followers.

I'm not totally sure if this is coherent but its getting late and I need to sleep.

Well... heres one way to start the summer

So... I got a ticket for trespassing today. It was $460.50. Oops. The whole ordeal was quiet humorous until the cop (one of three...) gave us all our tickets. What we thought would be a warning turned out to be the full-fledged guillotine. None the less, I cant help but find the whole thing quite... funny. Perhaps not funny on the level that I'm out for nearly $500 (theoretically. Im going to court to get it lowered... hopefully), more so funny on the level of what a story it makes. And I dont mind the fact that it baffles every single person I tell. Ill let you know tomorrow if I still think its funny after telling my father about it...

Anyway. I've started training at the Wired Bean since I wrote last. I like it a lot there (good thing because Ill be needing the money now). Its a lot to learn but I like it a lot so far. Yippee.

Mmmm. I think Im going to do Sudoku until I fall asleep. Romantic.
Peace

Prozac Summer

My brother is home for the summer. I decided early on that I would try to create peace with him. I suspect that has been sustained... like a stain in a new shirt. I passed him coming up the stairs tonight. He was passed out on the couch, arm dangling off the side like some kind of lifeless ligament attached for no clear reason, purposeless. It hung there, smooth like a waterfall falling, dispersing at the bottom, falling, like the twin towers before they hit the bottom. It was grotesque, vulgar, obtrusive. His mouth was cracked open like a child's, but hes nearly 14.

Whenever I ask something of him, to turn down the music, clean up after himself, I have to do it in such a careful way. He is so terribly defensive, a body guard on speed unsure of what he's guarding. If I don't first explain why what I am asking is logical and assure him that by asking him to turn his music down I'm not trying to hurt him, his eyes grow pregnant with anger and then... BAM the explosion (a proper visual representation would be my garage two years ago, if you do recall). I guess "walking on eggshells" is a good cliche for this. I can't say things haven't been better than they were before, I guess in someways they are. There are more drugs and less fights. Well, you win some you lose some. I need to go to school.

I got a job!

VT

X
Bell ringing cider
Sliding steps slippery wetness
Bandits
Brick walls
Iron doors, cylinder sounds
Ion mixes, metallic flight
Wooden cracks
Fleshy holes emptied out
The chains of madness
The freedom of weight
Every color pigment; American
The sound of speed
Cold metal
Calloused finger
Buicks on the asphalt
The smell of rubber melting away
When no wheels have turned
No minds have changed
Video-camera shame
Apologies from far away
Morning’s earnest
Stopping late
Fear through the window panes
Fear of life
X

Candy-Cane Summer

Silence
Written in blue ink all over their bodies
The scraps of fabric left over
Pieces of string dangling from her coat
Its summer and she always wears clothes
Quiet
Talk from all the boys
That say she isn't really that pretty
Cannibals; teeth gnashing at ears
Happiness; summer fear and short hair
Whispers
Ear to ear to ear to ear
Truth to hyperbole to myth to lie
Gibberish in the best of forms
Summer heat, swimming at night
Banter
Girls gossiping, laughing, chocking
Bellybottons pierced, stomachs hungry
Water splashing; startling engines
Cars driving fast, summer envy
Laughing
Desperatly sadistic wilderness
Unsure of their existance
Witty, gut-churning sickness
Summer jokes of the misshapen
Gabble
Music, voices, giggling, screams
Boys and girls, too many at once
Curiosity, deeply vocal, lungs collapsing
It seems so eminent in the summer
Noise
Unable to make for the words
Incoherant, mind-altered, nonsense
Trees strung with a candy-cane taste
A selfish existance, allowed only in summer
Screaming
Unattended children
The possiblily of drowning at their fingertips
Water laced with something sleepy
Nocturnal summers; everyone's dreaming
Praying
A thousand pleas at one time
Two ears to hear their millions of cries
Sad chimes of the unfortunate minds
It's summer solace for the danger of moonlight
Silence
Boys alone with girls
The pressing of tired mouths; relapse
No more screaming; no more sound
Its wrong, but summer has to be expressed somehow