Sometimes I wonder why I stay here,
Sheltered in my beloved shanty rags

The hydrant drips.
Tick,
ticking away the seconds.

Hours.

Days blend together.

I am tied down.

I'm running out of reasons to stay.
I doubt.
I can sever ties to the past.
The only glimmer of hope still lives.
Every day I step closer,
and farther away it falls.

Closer we come
and farther away she falls.

But. Even still.




You make me feel.




The will is there:
nothing is left but the doing.
The only question is,
will I be missed?

I am afraid to close my eyes.

We do not own the land.
We are surfs.
The land owns us.
Permanence owns us.
We will be gone.

I want to chase the sun.
I want to find the field -- the paradise
I want to laugh as a child again.
Play.
I want to chase the sun back down again
every day.

I want to find the opiate skyline.
The foreign field.
The place where we can laugh and play
as children.

We are unimportant.

One day, the inevitable frost will catch us all.
Fall to the ground
Reclaimed by the earth --
Carbon to carbon
We will all wash away.

We are but the will.
We are the ghosts walking the earth.

We are but paper statues
Blowing in the wind.
We will all fade away.
We will all wash away.

I am not afraid.

I burn

for you
for life
for never being sure
for always knowing
it'll never work
for never doing
though I am compelled

I burn

to have
to hold
to love
to live
to see
to touch
to douse the rain

I burn

for you
for what might have been
for what could have been
for what could never be
for whatever may come
for the future
for the good of man
for whatever may come

I burn
to spite the rain.

I burn
to feel

to spite the rain
I burn.

Ah, memories:

...No Mom, they're called DETHKLOK. D-E-T-H-K-L-O-K. Get it? Kinda like Megadeth.

...Ugh. Its not supposed to sound nice, its heavy metal, its supposed to sound pissed off.

...Why? Because I like it. Because I'm pissed off too. Sometimes.

...Eh? Don't worry about what he's saying. No one knows what he's saying. Just listen to it and jam.

Nostalgia.

DETHKLOK concert at the Tabernackle in Atlanta on Nov. 5th. Fucking right I'll be there.

I was working in chem lab today with lots of heavy metals. One acid solution contained a photoreactive silver compound. Basically the same stuff used in developing photos.

I'm a little sloppy with chemicals.

I got some on my hands.

I went to the bathroom without washing my hands first.

I'm pretty sure the next time my penis is exposed to light a few dark fingerprints will develop.

Funny.

The rain is relentless. I just finished a late-night fuel-line repair on my car. Tonight there was no rain to wash the earth clean, only to spread the mess around. I realized, as I washed my hands, that the mixture of soap and gasoline was equivalent to napalm. The temptation for a cigarette was almost irresistible. I can still feel the gasoline burning into the back of my neck.

The metaphor is comical.

I really can feel it burning my neck.

In reference to my last post, I'll have a much more analytical perspective of the issue some later time. For now, I obey my oath to sincerity.

I have no interest in dating for the sake of dating. The only women I'm interested in are the ones that are still alive. The ones that have a reason to get out of bed in the morning. The ones that know what it means to be alive. The ones that see life as worthwhile as I do. I only search for someone that can understand me, someone that can be a partner. I know it is difficult for usual people to find someone to understand them. I am very unusual. I am still alive.

I've been looking my entire life for someone that understands who I am. Someone who could, with time, at least. Even my closest friends, the people I've known for 17 years... even they only know my mannerisms, my habits, my usual responses. I fear that no one knows me.

Over the last two years, I've only met three women I consider worthwhile. Three that I consider worth being rejected by. Three that I would bother to try for. Over the course of my life, few enough to count on my hands.

Don't get me wrong, I've tried to be happy with a lady or two that liked me first. Yes. They were usually Vogue zombies or junkies. That was terrible. Two that I can think of at the moment. I'll call them Joe and Susy. Joe was one year younger than me. She had the hots for me because I had big shoulders, a deep voice, a toned, athletic body(totally new to me at the time, and since slacked a bit) from 3.5 thousand miles of bicycling every year, and the devil's curly hair. We had never met, she was just a loose acquaintance of a friend. We talked a bit, and decided to start dating. There was no relationship to speak of. As much as I hate to say it, I was completely uninterested and uninvolved. Its hard to say how long it lasted, mostly because its hard to say it ever really began.

Then there was Susy. We were friends for a while before I found out that she had a thing for me. She was a fine friend. I decided to give it a shot. Almost as bad as Joe's case. I didn't dread talking to her, though. I was, still, mostly sort of distant and uninvolved, though. After a few weeks, she decided that a friend of mine that I had introduced her to was a better suitor. Believe it or not I was happy for them. Unfortunately, I grew apart from the two over the course of a few months after that, and have since all but lost contact with both of them. They would later split up, and she married someone else, who, from what I hear(little), makes her happy.

Its been a long time since I've tried one of those relationships. I really did want them to work, as much as it may not seem like it. I can't force myself to care for someone that way, though, no matter how much I may try it or how convenient it may be.

Sometimes, I feel desperate for those relationships. I feel this freezing, frustrated loneliness as sleep doesn't come. I crave the warmth of another body. I am almost driven to give up. Some nights, I am almost defeated, almost killed inside. I persevere.

I don't  want to sound like a lonely, angsty teenager. I'm not.

I realize how naive I used to be. I thought that if I showed them I could fly, they would love me. Or at least acknowledge me. I thought that showing them I was unique, that I was not a face in the crowd, that I was a living, breathing, individual, would at least give me a chance. Flight is not desirable unless you are still alive. I learned that.