Where do you go when you have been everywhere? I have traveled the world, seen all the sights there is to be seen. The big attractions to the small rural wonders that no one pays no mind to. Where do you go? What is next?

What do you do when you have nothing in your heart? That feeling that have been boiling there for the past couple of years just suddenly stop boiling; it just evaporated into the air around you. What do you do?

I don’t know. I move on and find some place new to go. Space, the core, the ocean, anywhere but here. I move on from the feelings that I’ve felt in this lifetime and find new feelings to experience from my next lifetime.

These walls are getting claustrophobic and familiar. Every single pore have been studied and picked on one too many times. The paint peels it’s wretched sanitized color to reveal another layer of sanitized coloring.

Except the freaks who can never love anyone. Who are they to me? Why are they so familiar and why does that sound like me? Am I incapable of love because of my freakish ways.

What are my freakish ways? Sitting here alone in the oh so darkness of space’s empty void listening to 1’s and 0’s coming from my computer. Looking but not seeing the things around me. Realizing that there exist a world that I know nothing about but which I live in every day.

Do I think that all is lost? No. Nothing is ever lost. They are only misplaced only to be found again by time and space or the hobos down the street digging through the trash or the coroner and crime scene investigators that come to pick up your body.

Yellow. Yellow is the color of my eyes and the sun that drives my existence. Yellow is the light that guides my life and shines down on me and brings me out of the darkness that I encase myself in day in and day out.

Hemititude is a way of life that no one understands but everyone takes part in. Separating themselves from the world to just get some quality time to themselves to just think things over. Reflecting on life and the people that they come in contact with.

Subterranean Homesick Aliens that get lost in space for they do not have the maps of the stars to guide their ways. Soaring aimlessly through a dark void, hoping to make that much needed right turn to the place where they belong.

Life is just a right turn a way. One turn can just change your life. It will make you uproot the whole existence you have been living for the past quarter century and make you want to make a left turn instead.

Left eye bleeding the saltine liquid of the sea. It clouds the vision. Can’t see straight, can’t see what’s real and what is fake. Hard to make anything out when you are blinded in the eye that counts the most.

What is fake when everything around you is fake? Is fakeness real or is being real fakeness? I try to be real once but then I felt so naked so I covered myself up with my plastic skin and showed myself for all to see.

All night long I dream of the day that I will never have to have these feelings again. Thinking about you will no longer cause me pain. Thinking about time when all will be right with the world, which means that all will be chaotic.

The Angry Inch frightens me to be who I should never be. I am not who I am or who I proclaim to be. I am not a hermit but nothingness that surrounds the particles in the air.

I stay up late to ramble on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

I gave a piece to the rockstar that I’ve always dreamed to be. Feeling the world with the pretentiousness that I deemed as art, but it is nothing but empty words whispered to the tunes of the wind.

I’d walk a thousand miles through thick and thin to get to the places I’ve always been, seeing the emptiness that fills the distance lands of fantastic imagery that lies in the mind of a sick alien from beyond.

Walking quickly ahead with no turns insight, head lowered, barreling through the streets pushing people away so they don’t get hurt from my idleness and indecision as to who I am.

If I could hold you tonight, I wouldn’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say, cause I don’t know how I feel about you. Should I push you away or should I hold you close and never let you go.

I’m a little bit angry at the cards that life have dealt with me. If it was 5 card draw I bid all I had and get 4 new cards to push my luck. When in doubt, risk everything.

Matchboxes are the little gifts of life. They bring forth the greatest gift ever awarded to the Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons. It took them generations to find the little secret of the fire of life and now it comes in a box.

Sitting on a beach with the sands between my toes squishing with the salty sea soothing my foot with the moisture of something cold and cool quenching the thirst that spawns through my throat that breathes for life and death.

I’m a creep creeping my way down the street to where you live, spying you, stalking you. Drawing in everything you did, smelling the scent that you emit from that little bottle that you cherish.

Every breath you take I take with you for you are one with me. Our souls are connected like the world is connected with the ocean. We are one with each other and one with all and with the world around us. Your pain is my pain.

What the hell are we doing here? That is a good question to ask whenever you have a chance to answer it. Do you have an answer to this life long question?

Why do you ask yourself questions that you know you can’t answer? It is just a waste of time and valuable brain cells, especially when you have only two, and one is fizzling out.

I don’t belong here or so they say. But I ask you, who does belong here? You, him, her, he, she, me? We are all just pawns in this little game called life.

Life is in transition. Always changing with the beat of the drum. Bam bam bam bam bam, goes the drum and so does our life. Changing with the beat, changing with each song, moving along with each pulse that drives our existence.

Hallelujah fills the air as we bring ourselves to realize that life is just life and is nothing more. There is nothing behind or ahead of us. There is nothing but this life that we have, so make the best of it.

Buckley died but his music goes on and on. With a breath of Hallelujah he survives in us all. Drake drowned in his tears, but he leaves his tear stained mark with the words that brings us hope, joy, sadness, and love.

Love is just a figment of our imagination. A scientific gesture explained by a series of synapses firing and missing and firing and missing and firing and missing causing us to be hot and confused with the person in front of us.

With wavy dark brown hair, you woo me with your smile and your little charms. I will succumb to them no more, for these games has gone on too long for me to handle. Just leave me with whatever dignity I have remaining.

The game of love is a deadly game that no one should play. We are never fit to fall in love, cause we are not made to deal with the pain of what love leaves us. Nothing.

Nothing in me, nothing surrounds me. Nothing clouds my mind as all my thoughts leave me brain, travels through my arms to my tap dancing fingers which put my thoughts into words for all to read.

A Ghost Is Born every time the sun goes down the horizon and the glorious moon hovers ever so lightly in the sky above. It casts an eerie glow on us all, lighting us from within.

Forever Tonight I will think of you because after tonight you are gone from my mind and my life. You no longer exist to play with my whims and my desires. You are nothing to me.

The fire has burned out in my heart and in my loins. I no longer feel for anything. All the warmth is gone, replaced only with the ice cool thrills that once filled the world with ice.

Those were the simpler times. Times of extinction. Nothing existed but the natural elements. On the brink of life, with all the potential that everything can bring, we came, we saw, we conquered.

With us, the world is going to end. With us, the world will die before our bright ball of fire will get a chance to take us out on its own. The ever expanding bulb will no longer expand to feel the warmth of life.

Life Aquatic is how life should be. Ever flowing so fluidly and so smoothly. It is just a dream to swim through life like a fish never getting lured in by the artificiality and the rotting squiggliness of worms and tackle.

Details are the things that matter in life. You can go on telling a story with the major plot points and it will never be remembered. But if you give us all the details, no matter how small and minutes, the story breathes to life and is forever burned into our memories.

No stanza will be more than two lines long as I write this little rambling of consciousness to show that I am alive and well and kicking with the wicked dreams to be Almost Famous.

I’m Not Sorry for all the things I’ve done in my life. There shouldn’t be anything I should be sorry for. Nothing. It is my life, I live and die by my decisions and you shouldn’t be sorry for living a life compiled of your decisions.

Morris, borris, chorus, goes the song and the bong with the smoke is a joke to choke on the cream of the dream in the team of chess is like breasts on a chick with a bic who writes the tune to the balloon that floats in the sky like the cry of tears for fears.

Incomprehensible psycho babble that rhymes with the times and the tune in the June fever that burns wildly through the population of chickens that are slaughtered for the holy sake of chicken noodle soup.

I’m getting tired of your broken promises that you make to me to heal my heart. It just breaks my heart more and more, and I’ve smarten up to not take them to heart no more.

I can’t take it no more goes the song by those 3 little women who are no longer together for they are in the rift of life that everyone goes through once they think they finally know who they are.

Both sides now is how we should see things so we can get a better view of things to understand. It’ll help us with the judgments and the prejudgments that we pass on to each other and us above all.

yeah yeah yeah is the anthem that we sing whenever we are lectured on the things that we know to be true. no no no is the anthem that we sing when we are told what to do.

Wait, they don’t love you like I love you so why do you even bother spending time with them. All they do is make fun of you and play with you heart, melting the glue that once held your poor heart together.

Wait, they don;t love you like I love you so why do I even bother loving you when it isn’t me that you love? It is the ultimate answer that I would like to find, but it just gotten to the point where I really don’t care.

The silent treatment will help me with my cause to rid me of these pathetic feelings of loyalty and lust and horniness to be touched and held and yearnings to just feel at all.

Numb. Dumb. Bum on the streets fighting for the treats that everyone greets with the mediocrity of trash that brings for the life and our livelihood that we just throw everywhere, leaving our marks and our existence for the world to see.

If that’s love, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it goes the song that plays on my radio. It is oh so true that love is something that I want but it is something I can’t stand, especially when one is dreading what is to come with the craziness of love.

Summer is the season of warmth and heat. It melts all the coldness that is within me and lets me feel for once. Feelings of strength, confidence, and apathy for all things and everyone in life.

Boo hoo goes the message that I write in this late night journal, crying for that audience that escapes my grasp every other night. Looking for a sympathetic ear, looking for someone to understand.

What if the world were a little more perfect? Will it be a better place for me? What is perfection when everyone has such a skewed perspective of what life is?

There is no perfection and that is perfect. Everyone is different. Everything is different. The differences add to the spice of life like paprika adds a dash of something to the chicken before me.

Approaching three in the AM and I am not tired nor am I blinking to rest these tired eyes that just glow dim and dim with each minute, drying with the air, leaving it with no moisture or tears.

Tears are nature’s way of telling us that we need to wash our eyes. To get a new perspective on thing and on life, tears will bring that to us. Through joy and sadness, tears let us see clearer.

Dead leaves and the dirty ground is what I walk on during these long lonely journeys to find myself and to clear my head and rid myself of negative thoughts and reflections in my airs.

With my music blasting and my constant typing, I keep the neighbors above me awake. They wonder what am I doing, what am I typing that cannot wait till the break of day.

Six Feet Under is therapy that everyone needs and go through once during their life. If they are lucky, they will go through it more then once. It will bring tears and again, it will change our perspective.