My Companion

When I look at her
I discover something new every time
and it's just
another thing that makes her perfect.
A simple and synonymous perfection
that fell from my grasp when I let go.
This was all my fault.
I forgot who you were...
exactly the person that
I needed and still need.
The person with which I yearn to be.
It's not just a phase or transition,
It's a reality.
You were like a painting.
From corner to corner,
you scream "masterpiece"
at the top of your lungs
hoping for someone to hear
and hoping it was me for so long.
I was deaf.
blinded by something I
can't even describe.
When I heard your voice this time,
I couldn't wrap my ears around it.
My heart melted to the tones and
your phrases skipped across my mind.
It wasn't right but most of all
I was wrong.
Just seeing a picture of you
inspires me to be a better person.
In person, you manipulate my
decisions and control my emotions.
I don't mind anymore.
I don't think you ever meant it.
It's just become one of the few
things that i have left.
Few things like hurt and guilt
regret and depression.
I can't remember the last thing i ate
or when i ate it. Because,
food just feels like a thing
being chewed to pieces by my mouth.
flavors hold no asylum.
I can't stand up all the time
it reminds me of how much taller I am
now that you're not around.
I feel like a child when I remember you.
If you insist that this
is just something to pass the time
or relax the rhyme and rhythm
of what you think is wrong,
you will hurt me.
He hasn't even earned you.
I've spent long enough learning who you are,
and who i want to be with you.
My life's work had become your happiness.
But I failed.
We all made mistakes
and the biggest is mine.
All I want to do
is feel you beside me.
I want you to engulf me
with your love and warmth.
Embrace me and collide
with everything i am.

I never wanted to be my own person.
We're just two things apart,
instead of hearts beating as one,
despite the things i've said and done.

Act II

I found you when I was lost
and lost you when it was least convenient.
I only let myself think that I lost you,
but you were there the entire time.
You cared when I cried
and stared when I tried
to justify what I knew
was a lie.
I became patient and reserved.
I ripped a hole in my life
and it only grew larger
until I gave myself hope
within you.
because you were
only 90% perfect,
I let myself ignore the 10%
that I didn't know.
The last bit of a perfect woman
that doesn't belong to me
but to whom I'll always belong.

Act III (A reflection.)

I saw you tonight.
you were the most beautiful
I've ever seen you in my life.
It was refreshing.
Something is changing and
emanating from within me.
Like waves of pleasure and
skips of joy.
I make a promise to myself, now.
I will always look back on this moment
and love you as much, if not more...
No matter what the circumstances
and certainly no matter my mood.
Even if we hit snags or cry wolf,
I will never give up on you and I
will never give up on us.
Like a man, I intend to stay with
you and cherish you with whatever I have left
because, honestly,
you're the best person
I could share my life with.

That Pepsi Can

It's all about this pepsi can, you see? it wasn't mine at first. i turned out to be mine in the end, along with a pretty sweet deal. I found a bag behind a liqour store, trying to take a piss. turns out, there was nothing in it but a pepsi can and an address to some house up the hill. I've always fancied myself a sleuth like scooby doo, but never like this. Some kind of spooky house up ahead. this doesn't even feel like reality. I knock on the door and a jew answers saying "you have to pay to touch that door." So i shot him. Happy Halloween, fuckers.

Why Do I Have a Brush On My Back?

Jacque was a fairly normal Tortoise. He lived his days roaming around in search of food, eating it, then releasing his bowels wherever he pleased. He met several others on his journeys, a Chicken, a Squirrel, a mean old Badger, and various types of Birds. Though one day he decided to take a different route, seeing as his original one was becoming quite dry. Following a winding path through the park he discovered a beautiful Porcupine, of all things. Never had he seen such a radiant being and as fast as his little Turtle legs could walk he was there. "Bonjour Mademoiselle, My name is Jacque Montmorency." She walked off without saying hello. This blow to his seemingly French ego was devastating. Day after day he tried with purpose strong, only to be shot down every time. One particular evening while he had almost given up hope, he noticed a brush out of the corner of his little turtle eyes. Strapping the brush to his back, He smiled at the possibility of her being his. His heart beating at the speed of light, he walked in her direction with a gigantic, Galapagos smile. Noticing him she sighed and looked away. "I am Jaqcue Montmorency and i am in love with you.  i care not that we have differences in appearance, it's easy to fix as you can see. give me a chance and i promise you will not be disappointed." reluctantly she agreed and they've been happy ever since. “The love that lasts the longest is the love that is never returned.”

The Analog Kid

Twas an August afternoon. I was laying in the grass, Listen to the music in the amphitheater on the adjacent hill. It moved me almost to tears, Wishing i could hear it for the rest of my life. I felt the need to move people in the way that band has. I had never heard anything like this before that day. As the weeks went by i began to discover musicians i never thought existed. John Coltrane and Charles Mingus, Genesis and Pink Floyd.I was searching for the band that touched me some months before. I met a girl one day waiting for the local bus en-route to the downtown music district. She was captivating in most every way possible and it was moments later i noticed her cassette player blaring the song i'd heard on the hill. I quickly tapped her on the shoulder with little response. It took at least 8 tries to get her to notice me. She had a furious look in her eyes, So i quickly asked "Excuse me, Could you tell me what band that is?" Nearly unresponsive she muttered "it's The Holy Triumvirate, Rush" A steady voice spilled from my lips asking if it could borrow the tape. Surprised i took such an interest in the music, She handed it to me with a business card on the side and said "call me when you want me to get it back." Five blocks before Stonehenge Records the radiant woman I'd gotten the tape from took off without a handshake or hug, smiling all the way to the door. Inside Stonehenge, I asked the owner to put the tape on and slipped into a distant reality on the sofa. Bright colors filled my young fragile mind. My heart was racing to the beat. When the tape was over i opened my eyes to a Goddess of Rock. The same woman from the bus, with her voice quivering, asked "Would you maybe want to go get a cup of coffee?". It was then that i believed in the spirit of music...

Beer that felt like a brush

The distinct tickle on my nose kept me from passing out. The party was somewhat lame, the girls were slutty and all over other guys, And the beer was disgusting. I had to do something other than just sit there. "I'm getting better beer, this shit is pretty gross," i'm sure what really came out of my mouth was along the lines of "i getun betir bur........fuckin shit, grose." I was fucking retarded drunk heading to the store in my shitty beat up chevette. I was driving pretty fine until i noticed i was still in park. I took off into the night wondering what i was doing most of the time, Passing up liqour store and liqour store until i remembered my task. There was a small family owned store just half a mile ahead. I could see the bright lights from the window shining into the street. Aside form being a drunk spot it was also a gun store and sex shop. I stumbled inside with little ease. I had never been inside this establishment before, The lights and variety of alcohol, dildos and firearms amazed me. I discovered a beer i'd never seen before, a beautiful can Embellished with beautiful and ornate decorations. I had to drink this beer. I was pretty sober after getting to my car half an hour later, steadily walking with the shining emblem of barley and hops in my hand. The ride home was safe and smooth. I got back to the party and noticed seven people had left and taken the moose piss they called beer with them. I was glad, It was now time to enjoy this beverage of kings. A splash of energy blew about my mouth, A clean sensation as if it were Listerine or Scope. Going down, this beer felt like a fucking brush. What had i gotten myself into?

Fish stuck in limbo with battery ears

It was hard the first few years. The constant electrocutions of my friends, At the hands of Nature's fatal flaw. They eventually fled, leaving me in a pit of self doubt and shame. Why was i made this way? A freak. My swimming ability was unparalleled. A fish powered by two batteries, Each adjacent from the other on the sides of my head. A Frankenstein mess cooked up by a naked scientist. My life was seemingly normal before. I had a wife and two beautiful daughters, The three of which i loved very dearly. It was around 9:00 AM when they captured me in bed with Mona, my wife. The horrible screams, i couldn't tell whether or not they were mine. There were others in the holding tank with me, Pissing on themselves in the corner. Blind Willie Big-Tone was the first to be taken by the monstrous beings. A blues musician from the reef, I had heard him once at the Fishbowl Lounge in '76. I'd only seen one other about the province. I believe her name was Josephine. She had a fair complexion with bright, exuberant eyes. It was my turn to feel the cold, surgical steel they inserted into Willie just moments earlier. The end result was this freakish abomination. Hunter S. Thompson once said "I would feel real trapped in this life if I didn't know I could commit suicide at any time." Perhaps if our places had been switched, he would have been able to entertain people for years to come. Fin.

Obscurity and Crude Behavior...

The only sounds i could hear were the shuffling of my feet to get comfortable. I had a long night of writing ahead of me. Coffee and Donuts are commodities that the average man can't enjoy. Why was it like this? Why must a man who's criminally insane not get his coffee and donuts? 19 years old and already my cynicism reaches as far as my hateful gaze upon society. A collection of knives and pornography strewn about my room like intestines on a guilt-ridden highway. A voice shouted "Where the fuck are my smokes?" and i found myself throwing various objects about, as if it were my distaste for everyday American life. My Mother had been pressuring me to stop smoking and join the United States Navy, I told her I'd rather milk the tax payers for their well earned cash by self diagnosing mental conditions. While writing i would stop at various points to pleasure myself, a pass-time I had found myself doing for the past few months. My love for obscurity and crude behavior would only lead to my unemployment and lack of motivation. My period of Gonzo Journalism has started...