May the rest of your organs fail.

You're God damn right I'm fuming. I'm writing out of anger and talking out of anger and I don't want any of it taken with a grain of salt. I want you in my brain to experience first hand the screwed up shit I'm seeing and I want you to boil in my blood.

I want it too though. I gotta find a way into your being to explore what keeps you ticking. My choice of entrance would be the gaps between your teeth. I won't be able to breathe long though from the nicotine and bleach.

Next step is surviving the fall down your esophagus. If I make it down alive, I'll land face first into a pool of acid your stomach creates each time you forget to feel guilty or ashamed. Your belly does not collect the same abundance of sweetener as most would to fight the sour, corroding acids. It's a form of suicide, it won't eat away at your physical being, but instead your mental and emotional self.

The clock I'm searching for does not keep traditional time so I am in no rush. I am alive and I'm on a mission to prove the world wrong. This tin man has a chest and it plays a one man song. I'm out to prove everyone wrong. Contrary to popular belief, I've seen you weep and I've seen you fall to your knees. It's here, somewhere, I just need to find it. For my own sake I'll take the long way. I'd climb the disks in your back straight to the center but no disks exist where a spine once fit. Instead, I'll jump from organ to organ, steer clear of the lungs for obvious reasons and be sure to scale the left side of the ribs. Disorientation is prevalent when you're inside someone.

At this point, I'm starting to sweat. I should have seen signs by now that there is life here. Last tier, last rib, just one more closed door and I'll finally see what I've been waiting for. I made it. What's it like to feel someone else's beating chest inside your own?

Something is off though. I hear only my own beats. I even stopped mine to see if we were in perfect time. There was no sound though. I would swear we shared a brain at one point but I knew we never shared a heart.

Before finding entrance through your teeth, I borrowed, from her, the only set of keys. Here I am now at the space where it will be encased. I'm here to show each person in your life that you are a real boy, that you feel after all. My hands are shaking from nerves, mine and yours, and in fear that you also don't believe in your own core I'll unlock the door and scream from the top of your lungs.

"You need to see this as much as the rest of us do!"

Maybe it will remind you of the old you. Now, on 3.

1-2-3

The door swung open to reveal a cavity all cold and broken.

After all these years of trying to show the world that you own a heart of your own, you have proven me wrong again.

Anywhere but 39.677485,-75.753563

I've disappeared before, did ya know?

3 times now. Each time a little more intense then the one before it but all equally bone rattling and brain shaking. Each time I lose a part of my insides and they're replaced by stone and gravel and mud and clay.

I disappeared again today. You know though.

This time I just vanished and settled silently with the dust gathering on the fan blades. I waited for some unsuspecting someone to flip the switch. It was the sheer excitement that now some foreign being will determine where I'll land.

However, this time I went prepared.

Before I incinerated I opened every door and every window in my house and stuffed my pockets full, with a compass, map, and a prayer. Now once the fan begins its rotation I'll be thrown from the blade and swept away in the up draft. I'll be like a rookie pilot commandeering a microscopic aircraft caught in the most turbulent flight of my life.

I made sure the moon would be out also, for guidance, extra light when the night approaches minutes before take off, and obviously for luck. But most of all because the moon generates the wind I'll need.

I'm ready for my final mission. I'll be out and on my way dodging rogue pedals of dead dandelions and sweeping my way by any rain drops that always seem to be prevalent during times like these. I'll be avoiding all precipitation while embracing the gusts and breezes that now hold the key to my existence and to my destination. The compass is only there to help and to reassure I'm heading in the right direction, the map for reading material, and the prayer to send me anywhere that is not here nor there.

If you're in the north, I'm heading south. If you're on the east, I'll be west coast dreaming.

Please moon, just this once, bend the waves in my favor and send the winds my way. Send me to the next place I'm supposed to be. I do not beg though, I am merely throwing my faith blindly and literally into the wind with hopes you will float me in the direct path of a new breath for me to settle into and learn.

I disappeared today. Now if I could only remember how to reappear.

Guilty before the sin.

Don't it seem like I'm cleaning up someone else's mess?
Does to me.
Guess I better learn how to do my own laundry,
before I have to wash the blood from another blouse.

98.2 °F vs. 3 Inches of Plastic Spinning Fury

My fingers can't type as fast as my hands can write.

Logically it should work the other way but,
ultimately it's up to my brain.
Physically my fingers can punch more words,
emotionally, though, my hands do all the work.

Mentally now, I wonder -
if I can do more with paper and pen,
then shouldn't I be the one with a noisy, over-worked, cooling fan?

No Fault

There wasn’t much
that we could do

As we watched the sun
replace the moon

And the night began
to slip away

Along with it
went your holiday

Now looking back
I should’ve tried

To bribe the sun
for some extra night

But how could I
even offer

Something just
to keep a lover

From a happy life
too far to see

From a life we knew
she'd always lead

Now since that night
a lot's been done

Enough to fill
2 coffee mugs

Like the ones that we
will one day share

Once head and chest
are finally clear

Possible Side Effects

Erase a few days from your life.

Luck out with the nicest weather of your life.

Talk to a sunflower.

Talk to a sunflower with your best friend.

Truly understand music written by Apex Twin.

Surround yourself with aliens.

“Do whatever you wanna do”

Listen to “Waiting on the World to Change” by John Mayer and watch as the world starts to change.

Listen as Gods green Earth speaks to you for the first time.

Watch every piece of bark in your view turn bright purple.

Fall in love all over again.

Close your eyes then open them to see 3 of the most important people in your life murdered in front of you.

Drive your car while driving next to yourself.

Own a dog that can call you out any time you’re fucked up.

See a tornado form inside your face.

Hear your mother speak to you in a demons voice.

See, hear, smell, touch, and taste the beauty in everything.

Believe your life is over.

Sink 20 feet into your comforter.

Freak out in your own bedroom because you think it’s the world’s un-safest place.

Travel to the Philippines via painting.

Take 2 hours to roll a blunt.

Turn into your best friend.

Experience every aspect of the emotional spectrum simultaneously with someone you love without saying a
single word.

Feel 3 hours go by in 15 minutes.

Get eaten by a toilet.

See music.

Drink 25 bottles of water in 4 hours.

Don’t let Jay Z bug you out.

Pass out face first with your pants at your ankles mid piss.

Pretend you’re on Nick Canon’s Wil’n Out.

Hang up on your girlfriend.

Have the piles of snow under your feet turn into clouds.

Walk on clouds.

Feel the vibrations of an acoustic guitar overwhelm your body.

Hang on for dear life.

Don’t slip.

Laugh uncontrollably at the thought of someone you went to high school with.

Understand what the birds were conversing about.

Then freak out because you think they’re talking about you.

Finally appreciate how much a wind chime needs the wind and vice versa.

Examine a cigarette like you’ve never seen one before.

Turn off your phone for safety reasons.

Fall in love with weed ever more.

Start and finish in the exact spot that you began.

Lose yourself in a patch of moss.

Feel like a ghost of yourself from now on.

Come down.

And then come talk to us.

Attempting to Locate a Difference Between Voyeurism, Schadenfreude, and Paraphilia

Watch as they take turns remembering to forget what they saw.

Pay close attention to how quickly the situation at hand turns from playful to bad, from bad to ugly, and from ugly to vile.

It’s seldom that one human being lowers their guard enough to show another that they have almost completely forgot all aspects of evolution we’ve gathered over the years. To observe someone of the same design devolve into their primitive form is near nauseating.

Keep an eye open, consciously, while the primate-like protagonists begin their "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil" charade that begins shortly before and after the act.

Listen to the insolent hollers escaping the alpha male’s mouth and listen closer as they fill the ears connected to his envious crowd.

It’s one group of words that is sure to never fall on deaf ears. In actuality those hollers can captivate the rowdiest pack of men enough to have them sitting indian style, on a rug, in circle, eagerly waiting story time. And the story at hand comes with pictures, the story at hand has the potential to reach the masses, and the story at hand will have all truth stretched from one side of campus to the other.

Notice the spectators increasingly grow in size, in depth, impatient, and in curiosity. Make a mental note as the flooded area separates into fractions based on their view of the situation:

½ hover around not sure of what they're seeing, thinking, or feeling but they don’t know him and they don’t know her, so they don’t/won’t interfere. They just blend in and look on.

¼ consists of his friends that will all take what they saw and eventually jazz up the details to tell this story as if it were their own.

¼ made up of the average closet creep that will use what they saw as material the next time they’re lonely and under the sheets.

It's shocking how simple math becomes when applied to situations like these. Now, if only "Advanced Voyeurism" was an elective, your GPA wouldn't be as low as you'll feel tomorrow.

Feel the room sway in unison as each person moves either one step left or one step right just to get a better view past the heads of the people in front of them. The only thing separating the stars of the show from the bystanders acting as the audience is the blockade of ¼ best friends making sure nobody gets a better view than they do. And all this bobbing is in anticipation for the great finish. The moment is as close as he is and her respect is as lost as she is.

It’s hard to turn your head away from a burning building and it’s too tough to look past a car crash. By nature our necks turn to rubber when something we rarely see is presented to us. However, doing the right thing is even rarer than everything that went on tonight. For her it’s wrong place, wrong time and for him it’s right place, right time.

Ignore the fingers being pointed and hide your laughter as it’s forming due to the new nicknames being produced. Almost instantaneously, as soon as the spectacle comes to an end, the entire space will clear out. She won’t be alone though. She’s not the only one that’ll turn red. A wave of guilt will sweep in from the backdoor and will blow past each individual that took the liberty of watching the gratis exhibition. The force alone will turn the skin of everyone involved a bright burgundy shade. Although a temporary side effect brought on by guilt, it will jog the memory of all immersed and remind them that minutes earlier they were as human as she is.

It’s in that moment when anyone who walked by without saying a word will get weak in the knees, and it’s in that moment that anyone pretending it wasn’t happening will get struck by reality. It’s the moment when anyone insisting it was a good idea will leave feeling filthy, and it’s in that moment when anyone remembering to forget what they saw will have the images of the night embedded in their brain permanently.

It’s in that moment when laughter would ensue if it weren’t for the story being 100% true.

Boustrophedon

There’s a splinter underneath the thumbnail on my left hand that I watch while I write.
It runs parallel with the lines on the paper and provides stability I need at this height.

It is of no nuisance to me but more of a muse, one I’ll exploit and the rest I’ll abuse.

It’s an anonymous brand of timber that aims to link a pencil to my fingers, one of which I hold too tight.

Stubborn and still from time to kill, it burrows deep to starve my brain from ideas I thought of along the way.

Fittingly though, it mimics me, plants a seed then briefly leaves.

I’d let it stay, I’d let its roots tangle with my veins and I’d water us both with rain.

After all, what kind of host would I be to tear out the roots embedded in me?
And for nothing more then just to see how long it’d survive as just a tree.
The truth in fact is that we’d both be petrified if not for it, if not for me.

Been some years since that splinter lodged itself under the thumbnail on my left hand, which I only use to write.