whatiwas

(breaking a "no-blogging" rule I'd imposed upon myself, I speak.)


pen and ink is far too slow to make the act of thinking worthwhile; my language doesn't flow anymore unless it comes faster than i can re-think it. my better judgement's been failing me a lot lately, i can't help it, i need to make everyone around me happy enough so i either get left alone or sex.

by the by, that's still more important to me than food, for anyone who cares to be listening. (empathy?)

my bass amp is fucked. i need a stabler one to keep the throb going, it's nowhere near as good as muscle wrapped around me but the drone feels good enough.


i want you to pretend you want me inside you, and i'll pretend the same, and let's pretend we can connect across wires or photons or oxygen molecules. i want to pretend i can hear your voice, because any combination of three words sets me, you know, you know,


you know, you know the rest.



my tongue is red, or so i've heard, so i'm scared to let it spin on you, but if you're feeling dangerous, fuckin' let me know and i'll set the appropriate wheels in motion.


fuck, man, i need to set this shit afire, and i don't know how.