Thursday, December 18, 2008

Old School Shit - Eazy E

Ole School Shit (Explicit) - Eazy-E



Quiet my angel
Forever sleep

Death was an oasis
Always just out of reach
For a tortured soul

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Sunday, December 7, 2008


Convulsing on the bed, A strange force takes over me

She is lying next to me
Her face pale and blank
I open her eyes
So she can see me
She doesn't make a sound
The pills must have taken effect

Her plastic stare is haunting
motionless, her eyes see through me
I live the fantasy,
Her labia feel a silver slippery
Reaching inside her has no effect

Thoughts of Sylvia Plath floating
I find strength in the darkness
Of putting her head in the oven
Completing my fantasy
Let me state the obvious
Reminds me of retrocopulation

Her face transposed onto
The girl I touch
The prose sends me into a frenzy
"These mannequins lean tonight
In Munich, morgue between Paris and Rome,"
Faceless mannequins
Caught in a dreamscape
Tonight between paris and rome

Friday, November 28, 2008


Bored and alone reading forgotten scribblings
Of unknown authors
In foreign languages
A Bulky desk and squeaky chair
Endless racks of dusty hardbacks
Stretch for hours
A drumming white noise
Pours from the ventilation system
Above my head

Alone in the library
Alone - not alone
Someone fucking sees me

I creep though the volumes
A shadow stalking me
Its not the sexy librarian
I run through endless racks
Chasing the person I see
The authors voices scream at me
the voices pound my eardrums
From each page a thousand laughter
A cacophony of insane banter

I can see you
Don't leave MEEE!!

A voice over the intercom
*Scratch *scratch
"The library will close in 30 minutes
Checkout will close in 15"
*scratch *scratch

I must finish this mystery,
Piece together a conspiracy
From newspapers and microfiche
I furiously highlight, underline
And make notes in the margin
For the next person to find.
They need to know! They need to know
What has been going on

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Get on the bed bitch
Tell me the name of God

Oh sorry,
It's a little hard to talk
with your mouth filled
with leather.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Burner - A short story

Gary Dunning woke up to the alarm clock buzzing that annoying, drilling electronic noise. It was 7 am and Gary had to truck my ass on down to work.

Life is lived from one acid second to the next. Earlier that month, he had found a rusty car by searching the web for the cheapest piece of junk he could find. It only needed to run; it didn’t need to look pretty. The car had a strange gasoline smell coming up from the floor boards. He suspected that the exhaust was leaking and filling the cabin with the hideous stink. Gary feels sleepy sometimes when he’s cruising, as the carbon monoxide filters into his lungs. He hadn’t made the connection between the gas smell and his out-of-it mental state when he drives.

He had become addicted to pain. As he cruises the streets aimlessly drifting down random alleys, sluggish but euphoric, chasing shadows. He had the habit of putting cigarettes out on his arm, burning small, red holes.

His skin is pale and clammy, like that of a corpse. The scars turn blue from abnormal blood flow from his heart. He drifts the car to feed his adrenaline needs. He had replaced the license plate, so any witnesses couldn’t track him back to his doorstep. Trash cans led to sign posts which soon gave way to parked cars. Macabre medical photographs on the dashboard slip around and fall to the floor as the forces whip the car around.

Eventually he had hit a person and he found that that was the best feeling in the world. The screams and hilarious noises didn’t stop him from driving, sending him into a state of ecstasy which is unparalleled with any drug he had tried. He palms his penis through his unzipped jeans. He slowly masturbates—in his mind--rehearsing, rewinding a slow motion movie and hearing her torso hitting the right bumper and passenger door, making a metallic, thumping sound. His friend, a greasy auto mechanic he had met while changing the oil, rides shotgun. Gary jerks him off until the mechanic sprays cum all over the glove compartment and steamed up windshield.

He flashed back to the first person he had ever hit. She had a blue coat, white shirt, and tan skirt. He didn’t remember what her face looked like, or whether she had gloves on or not. The most salient point of the experience, the thing that burned in his memory the most, was how her umbrella had landed on the windshield and traveled with him for a few minutes before he turned on the windshield wipers and it slid off.

It’s 7 am and Gary still has to get to work. Driving all night made him drowsy. A dress shirt feels good and covers the mutilation. He puts on his slacks and business jacket, grabs his briefcase and locks the door behind him.

Monday, October 27, 2008


all the days past
minutes pulled from hours
silence we both felt
slipped through the hourglass
[Abu Graib sensory deprivation was my thing]

/I take pictures, photographic pictures
Bright light, dark room/ *

bondage was our code
for the brief
chance to steal
moments of pleasure
in the end
time was the thief

now we are gone
polaroid photographs
are all that remains
burn them with a match
it's hard to erase the stains

/I take pictures, photographic pictures
Bright light, dark room/ *

chemicals are soluble
mixed with blood
so it seems
memories we shared
exchanging platitudes
through half-hearted smiles

each second with you
was a slow-motion snuff film
flashing in black and white
I was the prisoner
under your serrated knife

/I take pictures, photographic pictures
Bright light, dark room/ *

I wanted to tell you everything
my secrets are too dark
would you still have loved me
when the person you see
is nothing more than a scarecrow
with a hay for a heart

/I take pictures, photographic pictures
Bright light, dark room/ *

This dark heart
Hay wound in a bundle
Around a Ravens Feather
Red yarn strung together
With railroad spikes

*Depeche Mode - Photographic

Friday, October 24, 2008

Mark of Cain

Tattoos and burns
My body tells the story
In cryptic code
of Cain's legacy

He has given me over
To my own depraved mind Romans 1:28
Like father like son
The thing you created
Is the thing you love to hate

A cryptic language
Carved into my skin
Reminding me
Of every sin

There’s something inside me
Two parts of a whole
Each set against the other
Wanting to tear me apart

I feel the days pass
My bones want to come out
Flesh burns away
Twisting entrails hold poisons
A heart filled with cyanide
Epidermis embedded with glass and tacks
Foreign objects of metallic origin

A cryptic language
Carved into my skin
Reminding me
Of every sin

In my dreams
Wild dogs chase me all night
A black river in the forest
Two strange girls on the banks laugh and hold me
I shout out strange words in my sleep
Running in all directions
Following the glow of some distant light

Of Masks and Maps
Discerning between dream and reality
Is a difficult thing
As I follow the Black River east


Carve.wav -

Japanese Rope

This was your idea
You forgot to take your Risperdal
Sucking me into your twisted fantasy
About being tied, gagged and hung from a wall.

What’s good for the goose
Is good for the gander
I’m an accomplice
In your diseased mind
We share something unusual

I want to leave scars
Of where I have been
One for every day
To mark the commission of a sin.

They say Japanese rope
Is the best
It feels good
When I cinch it around your throat

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

I fucking Hate you

I can't stand
to see you in the arms of my friend
When all I want to do
is tie you to the bed

I fucking hate you
my whore fantasy
You will take it inside
moaning and purring
as he watches gagged on the sideline

You're a dumb christian girl
makes me wonder why
you act like the Whore of Babylon
but its all platitudes
Right? In the end, we're all liars.
When you make me jealous
It's just a match in the fire

Tuesday, October 21, 2008


Staring out the window
Street lights illuminate
Red eyes of an insomniac
I can't kill the dreams
With Vodka shots and Prozac

Wednesday, October 15, 2008


I see them.
I write their names
In a book of leaves
The fountain pen
furiously scribbling
a strange alphabet.

They pass by,
Intent on their lives
I see them.
Wish I could own them.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008


This is a new addiction
Induction into my cult
Innocent Christian girls
to be my drugged up

Dark trash littered alleys
The veins of metropolis
lead to the cemetery
on the outskirts of town

Something is taking you there
as we drift
A ceremony of the diseased

You are saved
Pouring alcohol
over your nude body
A grave
Lit with candles
Sirens, a choir
Police lights make stained glass
Adrenaline sanctifies

Tied, bound and blind
Sodomy is a benediction

You become me
Part of my collection
Protestant or Catholic
Makes no difference
They all cry the same
Another Christian girl
to pleasure me.
Fly on the Windscreen - Depeche Mode

Monday, August 18, 2008

Crash: A descent into the Pathology of Car Crash Fetish (1996)

Click lower right to go full screen. (note to self; preview w/ fly on the windscreen sound.) Complete transcript here









Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Monday, August 4, 2008

A New Messiah

Pay Your Respects to the Cult of AmenRay

Bow down before his holiness, and worship at his feet. Anything else is Blasphemy.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Playing the Angel

I was at my old apartment sweeping the front porch. A blond girl yelled "Hey dude!" as I was just going back inside. I could tell the type from 50 yards away and I figured she was trouble. I left the front door open and went in the other room. By that time, she had gotten to my front door and was asking for me to come. I was torn as to whether, like the other crackheads that haunt my neighborhood, she was just another druggy. Then the thoughts overcame me, does she need help, is she in trouble, etc etc. So I came out, reluctantly.

She was very easy on the eyes and she started murmuring something about being kicked out of her house, having 5 dollars, a cigarette and about me being over 21.

It took my a while to actually understand what she was talking about. The smell of alcohol was strong, and I guessed that she must have been kicked out because her roommates didn't know what the hell she was saying.

She didn't seem too bright, and I figured on any normal day, a guy could use that to his advantage. It is every guy's wet dream, a drunk, stupid blond at their door begging to go someplace private and get drunk.

I turned her down on the cigarette and drinking with her, even though those are perhaps my two favorite things in the world. That might have been my worst decision.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Death Beth

This is a Christian scare tactic website that is supposed to predict when you are going to die. You enter your information, then you get preached at, you're gonna die slowly, etc, accept Jesus, or else. Pretty sophisticated, for primitive people who still need a night light. Boo.


My favorite place to relax

I saw this at the university and thought it looked like a Zen Garden, you know those little shitty boxes with the wooden rake and rocks and sand and shit.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Ghost in the Shell 2 - Innocence (Japanese Movie)

I want to see this movie but haven't been able to find it yet. It looks like the Matrix meets Terminator.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

A Bible Quote

"If your eyes cause you to sin, pluck them out."

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Kirk's Pretty Cool

This is an autographed pic Kirk gave me back when he used to be cool and didn't have to take care of 10 children. He knocked up a chick getto style. Aw well. Those were the dayzzz. Remember getting Slurpies and 40 oz at the 711? Chillin at my Apt, and cruising around in your drop top?

Quiet, Dark, mysterious. Give me a call.
Gay Shirt. I like it. Oldie but a goody.Innocent, Deep, totally Early 90's

"God has given you over to your own depraved mind..."-Ben The Sower

Thanks. Christian LOVE!!!

Tuesday, July 29, 2008


While searching for images for this spoof, I found these. Apparently the raelians. I was like DAMN, I wouldn't mind being in this cult!