'where do the rockets find planets'

so..how shall I capture how I'm feeling now.
shall I cup it gently in my hands,whisper softly into it's ears then squeeze it 'til the blood spills onto the paper.Then take that sheet and smear it across the screen.
Shall I feign resignation while subconciously I'm screaming with frustration and anger.
Shall I scoff at myself for not having a concise basis for my subtle distress.
Shall I simply just- shut.
the.
fuck.
up.
You know-'git r done'
I just wanna be free.
Really free.
But are any of us ever free?

whatever.

Here's a comment I left at my friend's latest blog at myspace
*edited 9/5/2011*
He's all about dada.
I think.
He kinda inspires me.
Motivates me.
Well,at least as far as writing.
It's awesome to have an oppurtunity to kinda -lol-freestyle.
I commented within less than a few minutes.
As it should be with him.
Try it.
It's cool

Thursday, March 22, 2007
*untitled*
tectonic plates shift in my heart. the chambers radiate misbegotten glee. aorta blood scintillates beneath the broken desert sun as I grind the sand grains of lost time between my knuckles. tiny lizards scatter beneath a lightning flash. violent excreta of the old gods. clams nestled in the bosom of the earth sing. cardinals weep. the tears slipping down and off their beaks into the open jaws of crystal meth kittens who whirl through the dark forest. wherest they go cannot be known. only they know. we will never have that knowledge