SKIN...BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!

I love the northern woods In the fall, in the rain. Where no path leads anywhere, And life isn’t a game.

I love the rippled lake The red moon in it’s mirror. Symmetric reflections, Roasting on the fire.

My father was my leader once, My father was my teacher once. So call me the rebellious son, But where did this substance come from? I love this land of elements, In which I’ve always found him. Sleeping seam-sealed one man tents, Beer n’ beans straight from the tin.

The mountain didn’t move. Fixated through our speed.
An intangible texture. Less desire than a need. The clouds were falling down on the ambers and the greens. Question weighing heavily on the curiousity of teens. I knew that I would die someday. I knew that you would too. But how come when I’m happy, Does death often persue?

Your race your creed, your stupid needs. Your type, your speed, the spoon that feeds. Masculinity is a wife- beater.

Your life, your weed, you plant the seeds. Your knife, your keys, used for guilty deeds. Confusion is a demi-god.

You’ll never find the seasons. Fighting with each other. The poles are unpredictable. But the sun remains a lover.

“All around them, men and women and children stared up into the skies and waited for death to swoop down and claim them. He looked at those strangers and knew each of them lived with terrible secrets. He knew that man cheated on his wife with her sister and that woman pinched her Alzheimered mother’s arms until they bled. And that teenage boy set dogs on fire and that pretty teenage girl once knocked down a fat ugly girl and spit in her mouth. And he knew that father had two sons, one who wore dresses, and one who couldn’t read and he made them punch each other because they were stupid and weak. And there was a white grandmother who hated her mexican grandchildren and a priest who burned himself with cigarettes whenever he dreamed about about sex with little boys. And that man had abandoned his wife and children and didn’t know they were now living in a car, and that woman hadn’t talked to her father in fifteen years and didn’t know he was now dying of prostate cancer. And none of these people, not one of them, had loved any of the others well enough. Failures, he thought, we’re all failures.”

b(-o-)d

Sands are leaning solid, we’re buried down below,

forgotten words and actions, the faster that we go.

Bliss in form of needles, poking at the heart,

like horns of a beetle, gasping at the start.

Velocity, velocity, will only slow us down,

listen to your sister as she lay upon the ground.

And reading by a candle, will light up every word,

words I heard were muffled, but tone flew like a bird. 

jackomazza asked: I'm not gonna kill myself just yet brain don't worry :P but its not even like that. i don't have the satisfaction of karma. I literally have no luck. None. Next time you and I are just chilling I'll have to tell you more. Speaking of which, if anyone wants to chill at my place and smoke after your show, I'll be more than happy to offer my house

black and yellow

jackomazza asked: YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS