tattoosnscrews

... I had a conversation with a small kitten the other day, and I realized that things make so much more sense when the listener can't speak English. Still this poor little creature took the time out of its busy schedule to listen to me carry on about things that I don't even understand.

There comes a point in a persons life, where the things that surround them dont equal all the time spent collecting. One persons version of happiness is anothers version of sadness. It is with that grand epiphany that we as people are all different in our own right. Yet my sadness shall never be truly understood without waking up as me this morning.

The air that once tasted as if it passed through the vast cotton candy fields of love has now turned sour and dry. Mornings once filled with hope and new beginning feel like nothing more than a continuation of the night before, and I am still crying. My tears may not flow from my eyes, down my cold cheeks, nevertheless they still flow. I have been here before, and I know they know me well. Yet, nobody says anything to me this time, their backs are turned and a thick cloud of cigarette smoke has filled the void once held by my delusional nightmares.

I once sat on the roof of my house staring into the sky, as my arms stretched out far and wide; my hands began to play with the surrounding stars like spinning carpet dice. The clouds drifted over slowly, rumbling with built up hostilities aiming to take out their hidden aggression on me. Still I ran my hands through the stars, becoming one with the cold dark November skies. Even as the clear drops of rain scattered in my eyes, stinging me from ever staring into the mouth of madness again, I still thought of only one thing. This to shall pass. But will it? If so, when? I guess the only real factor of fate can answer my questions. Although, its nowhere to be found.

Friends I once thought of as my comfort and warmth have replaced their soft pillows with rusted nails, and their heated blankets with ridged shards of glass. I roll around to get comfortable; still I only get stabbed in the back by all these insanely torturous sharp objects. I called Jesus Christ today on a fortune tellers cell phone and he put me on hold, leaving me to listen to elevator music in reverse. I became tired of waiting and hung up before I feel asleep again. Thirteen minutes later, MCI suspended my telephone services. Isnt it Ironic, dont you think?

... There is so much more that I cant even begin to remember. The only thoughts that are left are the thoughts of hope that drifted away after a drunken farmer burned down all the vast cotton candy fields of love. I guess Im alone, I guess Im here for a reason. The cold steel of a razor blade reminds me of that. I guess I have to listen, I guess I have to learn. The heart of a dying fetus taught me of that. This could have been the day where all the pain would go away, but fate is a mean little fucker and Karma sucks his cock! Its time to end before it begins again.

Some thing arent meant to be understood.

No matter what, I will always love you.

"The Island of Wakookamunga aka The Dirty Jersey Tribe HQ."