Wednesday, July 9


Living life in an awful haze,
I thought my cups were full.
As the bandages fell from my, once blinded, eyes
I realize my pockets had been empty for days.
Left insecure ---

I had yet to completely wake up.

You stole from me all that I had;
I allowed you to.
My dreams were shredded into chaos.
Importance shifted to lesser ideals.
I danced to a tune you sang,
and destroyed everything I came across.
Left in shambles ---

I had yet to completely wake up.

From a coma-like trance I wake.
Weak, like a newborn, I could not rise.
As my thoughts became in sync,
and my focus filtered out your meddling
I learned to stand by myself.

One step left: following this path I created,
without you.

Tuesday, July 8


Blurry vision.
Stomach aches.
Bruises taking abnormally long to heal.
Late periods.

Web MD tells me I am diabetic or have 'pre-diabetes' (which means
I need to stop eating like a lard ass or I will become diabetic.) and
I laugh. Fuck Web MD, right? It is just a web site.

I call my grandmother who has had diabetes, syndrome 'x' (which is
the worst form of diabetes apparently), and I tell her the information
above. She tells me to go to the doctor because diabetes runs in our family
and I am overweight and have a terrible diet.

I had a job at McDonalds. The day before I plan to go to the doctor
I get fired because I was not 'flexible' enough for them. This would,
typically, make me become negative and spiral downwards into a deep
dark sulky hole.

Instead I decided to get off my lazy ass and start eating right and
working out.

I have always had problems with motivation and keeping up
with eating right. I love fast food. I love soda. Now those foods
and soda make me feel wretched.

Two weeks and I am three pounds lighter.
I do not feel sick. I still have the blurry vision
but no stomach aches (except when I had a small
coke on forth of July) and no headaches.
I am feeling great. My attitude has improved.
I took a situation and make it work for me, not against me.

Go me.


For each word that is not about you,
there are thirty for only you.

For each minute that I think not of you,
there are twenty spent highlighting your glory.

For each day I claim I am fine without you,
there are ten nights I realize I am not.

I try to forget you.

Many symphonies I have written for you.
Stories with wondrous plots of me and you,
I have kept on these faded lines.
Despite all my effort, I cannot get to you.
There remains a roadblock.
What have you been waiting for?
I am not fine without you;
I always forget to forget you.

Wednesday, July 2


(Bharat picked this one out.
If y'all want to see more stuff it's on my myspace blog.
Page is public and so is my blog.

simple, it once was.
clean and clear,
free of confusion.
nailed to this wall of disorder.

i want to be --

f r e e

could you set me free?
you did not before.

the clock is stretched to fit your needs.
let a smile from me become your duty.

the good times have almost killed me.


I was watching American Beauty and Lester Burnham inspired me. Yes, the man who jacks off in the beginning of the movie in his shower inspired me.

Most people spend their whole lives talking about what he/she wants, what he/she is going to be, and what he/she wishes. I am tired of lying scissor-shaped in bed and wishing of a different life. Why can I not have this different life? I have made changes, for another, in my life. These changes took me a very lengthy amount of time to realize but I nonetheless made them.

In the movie, American Beauty, the character Lester tells the audience in the beginning that he is going to die within the coming year. He goes from living in this stale life where he is practically in a coma to being happy, confident, and looking and doing what he wants. If an older man can change his life in less than a year, why can I not? I am only nineteen. I have youth on my side. I am in this isolated, boring place and I have so much time on my side it is not even funny.

The place I want to be, if I make that my final decision, I would not even be leaving to for about, at least, four months. I have no distractions, besides working. I have no one to bring me down, only a person trying to support me. I have, again, time and a lot more to spare. Most of all, I do not have to focus on anyone else but me.

I learned, in the past two years, that I need to focus on myself. I need to make myself happy otherwise my negative edges will only sharpen and begin to deflate myself and others around me. I took some time yesterday to really ponder what would make me sparkle and shine. I have a list; I have goals; I have a plan.

I will be so much better than before. I will do what I told myself in December I would do. I have made it through the storms. I want to feel sunshine again, and I will.

"I'm just an ordinary man with nothing to lose." –Lester Burnham

Sunday, June 22


Who thinks I am insane for having a strong fear of the tubes in a McDonald's playplace?
I would like everyone to put their hand's down now.
Thank you.

I am wiping up the drink station for, probably, the twentieth time
in the hour and my one of my asistant managers (No, not Mr. McCrush.
He, sadly, did not work today.) told me to go into the playplace and
ask the parent in the bathing suit where the accident is.
I, naively, assumed that it was a soda spill or a ketchup packet
that was squashed with a tiny shoe and left spilling its guts on the floor.

I was wrong.

The woman looked away from me when she said,
"I am sorry but my child peed somewhere in the
play tubes. I would clean it up but I can not go inside of them."

(The woman is shorter than me and carries less weight on her bones.)

I had to clean up PEE in the tubes.
The tubes I fear.

In case you are wondering, someone else works in the lobby
with me but she is in her sixties.
I could not have asked her to go inside the play tubes.
If she was even twenty years younger I would have asked.
I am that much afraid of the tubes.

Within five seconds of being inside the tubes I start
to feel like I am trapped and I know a panic attack is coming.
There is a strong smell of little kid feet, sweat, and piss
in the tubes.
I struggle to navigate my way through wondering how in
the hell I did it when I was younger.
My knees are on fire.
The panic attack hits before I find the pee.
A child stares at me while I try to calm down.
I move my hand just a millimeter forward to steady
myself and a wet sensation hits my palm.
Fuck, I just put my hand in some little kid's piss.
I start to gag.
The random child continues to stare at me, figures
out what just happened and cracks up laughing.
I, with as much politeness as I can muster at this point, ask
the child to please exit the tubes while I clean.
The child obeys and then tells the other children
outside of the playground from hell that "the McDonald's
working up there is playing in piss so we can't go up".

So I guess today I played in piss.
I deserve way more than minimum wage.

Friday, June 20


Oh I fall yet again for the adorable eyes of an assistant manager.

I have a McCrush on my assistant manager Jeff.
I just started working there last week.
Today was my fifth day of work.
We have worked together everyday.
He makes me smile.
I have not really smiled, honestly, in quite a few months.
My favorite part of the McCrush is that he is married.
I can just like from afar.
There is no worries.
No flirting.
No possibility.
Just a sweet fantasy.

In other news:

I want a tattoo; needles freak me out.
My vision has been extremely blurry for the past four months; free clinic trip is scheduled for Thursday.
I am struggling to read "Rant" (Palahniuk); I have only make it through thirty pages.
Jon actually took me to see Sex and the City the other day; we did not fight.
(The great thing about being friends is there is less fighting.)

Friday, June 13


I contradict.
I fail.
I speak honestly.
I rise above.

I miss.
I cry.
I think clearly.
I move on.

I have too much passion, at times.
I have too many fears, sometimes.
I have an unhealthy desire for justice, everyday.
I have a thing I carry around, everyday.

I let some of my past get to me.
I dream of a greater future.
I worry about what is, ultimately, pointless.

I love with blind faith,
or with eyes wide open.
I hate with blind reason,
or with logical fever.
I trust a very select few,
yet still feel alone.
I question the world,
yet let new people in.

I strive to be the best I can,
but always remember I am human.

Tuesday, June 10


gripping the sheets --
oh silent love,
making us all jesters --
force those legs open,
god may not come.

escape --
the lovers laugh in sync,
gasping for more skin.
let us feel new again;
our sins will not be punished.

this place,
more like a prison.
shackles left on the floor,
cause the heart rules no longer.
good means naught now;
god may not come.