& I Remember You & Me Used To Spend The Whole Goddamn Day In Bed

Hey Baby,

I spent this last week working the shit out of myself. I saw your reflection in my reflection and I passed out on the floor with blood boiling in my brain. I don't think my body is in its best shape. I'm feeling pains in parts of my body: my back, my feet. I fucked your sister last week. It was her idea. I don't know why I just said that. I probably just made that up. Anyway I've been working on these things, these publishing things, and feeling like I have a purpose in life again. You know that might be the thing the war takes out of you, your purpose, your direction. That might be what the war won't let you bring back. Who knows?

Just before you come back around, I'm sure that I'll be all set up and fancy with some decent bird. I'm sure that everything will be great just then, and then you'll call or show up on the doorstep, and I'll just know that it's over again, that I'm about to lose my mind again. Or maybe this time things will go differently.

After a few months, I can have Third Eye Blind back.

Anyway, I was thinking about you a little tonight. I wanted to do a thing on the facebook or something but it always feels a bit less than real. As does this. As does everything. I wrote a story yesterday. No lie. Nope, I'm keeping this one under my name. Because fuck it and fuck them, yeah? Probably a lot of those people don't even know what love is or feel the need to demand the right to have something to stay up late talking about.

I'm still buying that house I showed you. Fuck your father and the banking system of America, but I'm going to buy that house I told you about. And then I'm going to buy a new car and then I'm going to marvel at what a fucking citizen I suddenly am. And then probably we'll find a way to throw it all away together. Little powder here, little stupid there; we're never any good until we've fallen off the chair.

Yours,
PHM

When I Was Punk I Was Way More Punk Than You

I don't feel so confident in myself these days, even after victory. I could go outside today and achieve exactly and everything I want to achieve and I would still not be confident in myself, not like I used to be. This is one of the things the army has taken from me. I would also love to blame public thrashings on various forums, but the truth is that I don't care all that much what people say about me.

Other things include the year 2009.

I don't want to talk about the army.

Whatever happened to our little tribe?

We better be careful, doll, or he's going to offer us a ride.

prick.

it's been years since you were
close enough to push
forward
i fell without
moving
a muscle comparison

Non serviam

god might smile same as
mine if only i saw
him
mirror feel
i deify reflection

--MLK

A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth. With righteous indignation, it will look across the seas and see individual capitalists of the West investing huge sums of money in Asia, Africa, and South America, only to take the profits out with no concern for the social betterment of the countries, and say, "This is not just." It will look at our alliance with the landed gentry of South America and say, "This is not just." The Western arrogance of feeling that it has everything to teach others and nothing to learn from them is not just.

A girl told me that I am her soulmate. I told her truthfully that I get that (relatively) a lot. She was not okay with me telling her that. Guess I won't be seeing her anymore. I can see how it was a dick move, but I was trying to tell her to slow the fuck down what the fuck? Ah fuck it. Life goes on.

Sobriety

A few days ago, I began a self-imposed sixty-day period of sobriety, in which I would keep a daily journal with numerous entries made to fight the urge to get drunk or whatever. Well, I fell off the wagon, but I am about to get back on, and I will just re-start the journal. I finally got my oil changed. I washed my sheets of you. Things don't matter. So forgive me all my anger, forgive me all my faults.

call me god.

in a dream an unknown told me glenn close had died. maybe a subliminal radio announcer or a cornered television. dreams with specifics: numbers, first and last names, times, should be noted. more than likely ominous.

i awake and onward i stop to get gas on the way to make money to buy more gas and as soon as i open the car door and stand upright i check the outlying areas for white work vans (conversion) or movement in bushes. still. vigilance and paranoia hold hands in my brain folds. i understand that it will be. the one quick run across the wal-mart parking lot without becoming familiar with terrain beforehand yes that would be the one time crime scene scrapes my brains up from pavement. my destiny filled, an evidence ziplock. remember 2002 and now it’s 2010. my boy was six months old in that october 02, when i took him out of his car seat to have his pictures taken at sears family photo. terrified to cross the lot to the mall and all i could think of was and all i could see was in my mind projected, his baby skull splattered by sniper shot and me the momma bear, holding his limp remains thinking why didn’t i keep him home. sears autumn backdrops are hardly worth such regret. but i made my legs move and let my eyes dart quickly and trusted their sights. and it was because i was so afraid and watching seen and unseen that we survived at all. remember what kurt said about being watched and knowing.

now safe at work contained in my cube. finally, the task at hand: glenn close is not the headline news or currently trending yahoo. therefore, she is still breathing and also not in jail or wearing a device to monitor her alcohol consumption. disheartening my dreams hold no power of premonition or elsehow wires were crossed. still. vigilance and paranoia hold hands in my brain folds. i understand it will be.