dumped. Again!

This feels like every other relationship I've ever been in with a woman and we weren't even dating. It seriously feels like she fucking dumped me. "I'm sorry, it's over, I shouldn't have to explain why" some retarded entry level shit like that. No matter who the woman is, or what kind of relationship we have, it's always ended by them, and I'm left to puzzle out by myself why. Nobody ever wants to talk about shit in an honest fashion, it's always what I should've known or what I should've done.
Fuck you.
I don't know, okay. I am actually relying on you to teach me a thing or two. If that isn't what you're looking for, fine.
Catch you on the flipside or some shit like that.
fucking whores, always leaving me hanging when I feel I deserve a more clearcut ending.
like a bunch of really terrible authors.
all joke and no punchline.
fuck.

who is this sandman and what has he brought me?

I dream. I dream as soon as my head hits the pillow, and it doesn't cease until I awaken. Until I came to this city, this phenomenom was utterly foreign to me. Now they come to me in full force, evry moment of sleep now full of half-formed memories and ideas viewed from across sheets of misted glass. I have come to accept in a more complete fashion the idea that what I learn within the realm of dreams is something that I can actually take with me to the waking world. More importantly, I almost feel that the sensation of transition from dreaming to waking carries with it something so strange and so vital that to recognize it and isolate it may be crucial. That brief fleeting moment wherein all previously retained knowledge is in the midst of being carried back to the dreamland from where I retreived it.
And where do I go in these moments of sweet slumber? No places of note, surely not. The people are what I remember in these strange times that may or may not have actually happened. Young girls fallen under my influence, that endless dance between me and whoever I see. Men and boys in various states, mostly irrelevant, bit players in a production of my assembling. Boys seem to be present in my dreams solely to present that proper sense of competition while I'm engaging in my... pursuits. Other nights are of a separate purpose, a search for something I am destined to never find, or the crushing feeling of being hunted like an animal, that savage and primitive sensation that gives you the impression you are barely seven inches tall. Perhaps one day soon I will decipher the meaning of this new onslaught of memory, this rushing torrent arising from the center of sleep, and the discovery of this knowledge will perhaps complete me, or at least put together yet one more piece of the puzzle.

excess pressure on the skull

My world is opening up, all of the secrets and hidden half-truths being drawn into the merciless light and exposed to the populace for their cold hard judgements, their ruthless final descision. I woke up one day and the ghosts of my delirious past were knocking at my door, crying shelter from the storm, tattered clothes telling tales of their journeys. I just rented out the very last room, I'm sorry, isn't there anywhere else you can go?
no.
This means we get to stay up all night long, warming by the hearth and exchanging smiles and sorrows of these long years apart. I don't know what to believe anymore, maybe you can help me out, shed a little light on what's true and what's utterly see-thru and false. Two long pulls on the dead man's bones and the dust comes flying at you, all of the stereotypes making their legendary final charge. I don't think that the next wave is going home tonight.
Droplets of nostalgia like fed through an iv turning into this flood that I can't stand against and survive. Every breath is chased down and weighted with these chains of joy or anguish the difference is neglible I don't know that I can figure this for the facts the fiction...

Never underestimate the power of a prisoner.

sun.

I miss the sun. There is no better way to describe how I feel right now, with music like light streaming in through the cracks of my consciousness, taunting me with memories of what the sweet seasons were like before this miserable weather staked its claim in such a pronounced and foreboding fashion. I don't mind the cold, I honestly don't. But I really do miss the sun. Maybe because I work during the day this takes away from my opportunities to take in the sun's pale rays, this glorious living god that makes his journeys across our skies every single day, journeys that now just seem like some kind of fading afterimage in my head. There's no way something so beautiful could've been real. Like I'm starting to hallucinate and this paradise I keep imagining never actually existed in the first place. Maybe it's just this job that makes me miss the brighter days, this huge prison that slowly eats at me like a pack of rats consuming from the bottom up, relentless and methodical in their work.

Until this season in hell relinguishes its grip on me, I'll just keep on dreaming of the sun, of the days that glowed and the nights that cut this beauty in chunks with surgical prescision.

Gods, how I hate this place somedays.

memoirs of an evolving mind.

The following is an only slightly edited version of the fuzzy down time following shortly after a serious drug experience, some gloriously obscene night off during my halcyon days as a janitor. It's set in the early spring of 2006, a time well remembered by me for it's dark tones of indulgence and sin.

James you have just taken mushrooms, downed a powerful hallucinogen sprinkled with some form of giant bong assaults. Granted you were already tripping balls by this point, but whatever. At the end of this lucid dream I remember Tika. And laine. Jesus christ that was so fucking weird. NOW you must know that these drugs serve no purpose, they take you to a place you cannot go, Such a trip is not meant for you, a place where you cannot remember anything of what went on after a certain point.oh good gods what was I feeling I can't remember the lust(a bold inaccuracy, the feeling was too pure and physically detached) was beyond the fucking word I couldn't picture or place anything coherent it was so fucking trippy and so terrible I couldn't even imagine work was impossible for me, it was beyond my power I did not know this place. I am so goddamn hungry right now what the fuck is wrong like I've run a fucking marathon race inside my room. Oh christ (shellaine?) was just so fucking gone and so was george
I COULDN"T REMEMBER to believe my surroundings were real, OH GOD I'M SO fucking hungry or what I don't get it you wake up feeling more alive than you ever could've thought possible as if the whole life to the previous was a foolish notion of ill worth I think I forgot english again oh gods how could've it all been so easy. It took only two songs to get back to the house oh christ what was with shawn were those drugs no he was too lucid it's usually so obvious when he's on mush, I think my whole existence before this was not real I still don't feel real I don't get it like I've been walking around dead this whole goddamned time and I'm still dreaming I can just control it did i eat? How long was I gone to that fucking place where all was joy and horny and the gods only know what the fuck else with whom did I offer communion the whole thing was impossible my drugs must have greater purpose than this I must do them for some fucking reason or something not just to escape, a task I long ago completed without previously fucking realizing it I must have been howling or something nothing makes any sense shit this is all so weird I don't know you get really tired and then you dream it's a mushroom dream and nothing is real after that reality just fades away I knew nothing but what I'd done it was all so strange locked in the groove as it were like I was doomed to relive that single scene for the rest of my goddamn life and then I got up christ why did I fucking get up? why not just submit to the mushroom dream and collapse, let reality fall apart before my eyes and go someplace else for the rest of my days?

As an afterthought, I seem to recall that feeling being too chaotic to control or properly enjoy, the experience being my first step in realizing that chemical bliss can never for a moment supplant the real thing. Drugs were my way of learning to really appreciate my spiritual pursuits, to truly understand that when you really want a goal achieved, the hard way is the only way that actually means anything in the end.

morning star glorified junkie fuel

Wrote this a good while ago coming down off something really strong.....

This morning I am awake alive the very essence of existence courses through my veins she hurt me oh gods she hurt me so fucking bad but it felt so enlightening awakening it felt like i was being born in the grip of her deadly touch and spat out screaming into the world and the whole world was new is new is so beautiful now jesus this is all too much this is something i have never before experienced not since watson tore open my third eye in a cascade of pain channeled through her goddamn vagina evil hateful bitch no matter not important i need to feel the skies caress my face with slight fingers and the breath of the gods exhaled from the light of the sun and drifting into my lungs canals carved into my skin and my soul this heart may burst this heart is whole every single brief touch of every single surface is too much to take the textures the sights the tiny countless sounds that accompany every night i am set loose on this earth if i listen i can hear it the heartbeat of this earth the pulse of all things living and all things life running like a river below the common perceptions of man yet they can be heard with the ears given t ous i can't believe this was all so obvious yet so well hidden i can't perceive the walls and boundaries that make up existence like i used to one day they will be gone forever do not fear pain embrace it surrender to it and be reborn i am alive awake I AM

prayer

Isis
I need to speak with you
to dream of you
to bathe in that pure light which you radiate forever
with every breath
every sigh
every perfect word
I beg for communion for that channel to open up
between my soul and your infinite love
oh great and glorious goddess of
the shifting sands the calm ocean the river that runs through all which is
mother of the new dawning sun
giver of the life which pulses in my now-blessed veins
every kiss of the sun
every breath of the wind
every drop of the waters
is a tiny reunion with you
more than any man could
as much as every man should
I love you

SI731 SUX

This place is like a refugee camp for the morbidly obese(MO) and socially incompatible. The few people I see here in a position to be working anywhere else usually end up doing exactly that in short order. Honestly the whole MO population here kind of scares me. I get this irrational fear about me like six more months in this building and I'll need a crowbar to get out of my fucking chair.
Also there's a slight depression problem working in any office building for someone like me. This place is two-faced in the worst possible fashion, and the masks everyone puts on are just too creepy for me to really stand. Thankfully there is the small respite that comes with knowing that every day I get to leave this place, if only for a short time.
Soon I'm going to start sending out a daily sos signal for all who walk by, a little flaregun shot to remind people that there are still real living beings in this office and not lifeless soul-sucking drones, evil ugly stat zombies feasting upon tiny sparks of individual strength and crushing it like it went through a goddamn printing press.
Oh, and if there's any of the ignorant redwhiteblue cocksmokers out there I like to call my customer base who are reading this right now?
Fuck you.
Fuck you and your entire family for making such a poisonous contribution to this planet's gene pool.
If I ever visit your part of neighbourhood I'll be sure to leave with nothing less than your leader's empty fucking head.

just because we don't exist doesn't mean a damn thing

jenisteen cantrell and christoff dirano the light that lives within that place is gone don't go any further what are you doing this is so unlike you i don't understand please stop this is too cruel i think that maybe this is going to be the last time we meet the last time these stars fall beneath our feet the lights glide by and lift us up above the gods above the very last tower that they ever built i can see you from here it's a glorious view it's no view without you i can't feel what i used to forget what i used to know this time we won't come back this time we'll just keep walking the cruelest joke of all he's still laughing i can't stop crying blood coming from my fists in short drops my nails are that sharp it seems the day is dawning in which all power is waning old gods dying new thrones built from blood and bone and sinew and sweet sweet flesh i can make a crown out of all that long black hair but i don't think that she would approve please believe me when i tell you that nothing you see is real and nothing is forever nobody ever listens and nobody hears me that long last scream will cross entire galaxies to find the one ear to hear it and forget and shrug it off and walk away i think that maybe one more breath will do it one more sweet sigh a motion trapped in movement i think that i could die.