Bloody, Bloody

I can taste the blood in my mouth, it’s bloody, bloody. I bite my lips and blood gushes out of it, and it smells like copper but taste like something else. I think I am going to go back to sleep, the habit of waking up at four in the morning is one that I need to let go off on the weekends, it’s really not that important.

A little chaos never hurt anyone because it forces creativity to take birth. As you know, all birth requires pain, anyway, the worthy births. Destructivity is birth in itself, only the birth of negativity.

Can I

Impossible is nothing… I am empty… she drank it all… this heart is broken, can I have another one…

I...I...I love her...I leave her...I love her

Sitting in front of the TV with laptop in hand, looking like a regular winner of the 20^th century multitasking competition he feels alive. Laptop is warm on his lap, signifying that he hasn’t been broken in yet into that sort of posh life because the heat sensors that will surely be dead in a couple of weeks are still sending electrical signals to his brain.

The idiot box is absently sending pictures to his brain, killing all concept of artistic innovation; the ultimate goal is to get us all thinking uniformly. We, the sheeple of America…

I…I…I love…I love her…I lover her…I lover…I lover…I love her…I leave her…I love her

Is this it? I never expected it to feel like this. Tell someone my story and they’ll envy it, but believe me there’s nothing to envy, not a thing.

Call me, Lady, Call me

It was a regular day like any other day, drove the two hours home, without a beat it sucked like it always did. I took the extra time to stop by my local CVS to buy a calling card so that I could get in touch with the girl in England. I was thinking about doing that yesterday, but the whole thing fell through, it was too late and I didn’t have a card. I got home, exited about the call, wanting to hear her voice. So I dialed the legion of numbers that got my girl. We fought, that’s it, we fought and the night was ruined. She was pissed that I didn’t call yesterday, and it got worst as we talked, worst, and worst. What is going on, never cared to have something like that as my own, that’s so far from the reality that is my dream.

V-day

I was running with this glass heart in my hand; I was always told to not run with fragile things in my possession, if you know me, you’ll know that I don’t listen. I was hauling ass, just trucking when she stuck her leg out and tripped me. It all happened in slow motion, the well defined leg invaded my space, and I entangled myself into it. I was tumbling forward and my fingers were losing hold of my precious cargo. It came out of my possession with such a force, it was as if it didn’t want to belong to me anymore, my own heart was speeding away from me with the velocity reversed for Nascar drivers. I watched it explode on the sandy ground, breaking into a cliché of a million pieces. My heart was broken, and I didn’t have another one to replace it with. It all happened on Valentine’s Day.

20 MPH

I’m actually in traffic right now, perfect position for a spot in those All State commercials; driving with one hand and typing with one. It’s amazing how much you can take or make if your brain is in the right spot. The guy in front of me has got the same driving pattern that I’ve got; give yourself enough room as to not press on the gas too often. Wait traffic is picking up, 20 mph we bare in business now baby.