Potent Potables

Here's to my broken heart. 

 

Pieces of my soul litter the floor and crunch satisfactorily 'neath the soles of my free-trade, Chinese shoes. 

 

I could probably spend the next 15 years with a tube of crazy glue and tweezers, but you know I don't have much patience with arts & crafts. 

 

My porky fingers have great difficulty grasping what my stubby little mind cannot seem to. 

 

A half-man/half-monster weathers this war of the words with a fizzy bubble and hugs the edge of the cosmos with his tortured ideas of romance. 

 

Yawning, I lean my head into the goose down pillow and stretch my arm, out and then in, with fingers extended into the slippery, warm, musky, moistness of my child-brain. 

 

Massage. Rinse. Repeat.

"Moodswing's Empty Threat To No One In Particular" or "Driving In The Slow Lane On Empty"

WHERE IS MY COMPUTER?

It has been almost 6 hours. Even with lunch it should only take 2-3 hours, maximum, to to remedy the issue I took it to IMO for. I could have fixed it myself if they'd only give me the keys to the kingdom. Living life @ work without a computer makes me feel like I am slowly roasting on a bamboo spit...in hell. Most of the time it only seems like a bland, gray purgatory. Usually, I type the musings, rants, and asides with reckless abandon, but today I am haphazardly scrawling out these words of protest to nobody in particular in my warbly, horribly twisted script.

I keep whispering to the cosmos to just send me a Seoul/soul friend, already.

I scream to the clouds for the pure rains to fall and cleanse my consciousness.

I beg the universal mind for something good and true for me to hold onto.

Mostly, I get karmic crumbs and half-ass conversation that does not go anywhere meaningful; or really fun.

I am shutting off the tap soon and turning deeply inward. I cannot seem to find my willing muse and have only had random glimpses of my schpadoinkle; if however fleeting.

Maybe something, some spark will come along and turn this busted robot back on, but for now I am just going to go into hibernate mode...

My binary is a little rusty, but I think that this means peace: 10100100010111.

(Damn, yesterday was a lowly day.)

Blowing Wind

My favorite track covered in blood. Soul sacrifice and dissolution...artifice, painted epic in the face of broken promises...she and he, yin and yang, touching at the border...he negatively charged, electrically opposed...she swims in the positive current, swept away by the rapids of time...tired of gnawing on his fist, he looks glassy-eyed towards foreign shores...screaming in triumph and howling out the last of his dwindling pain...

Watch me: 
Idiot Wind

Missile Toe

I know, and I think that I am coming out of an long, intense period of stagnation and fear.

Trapped in a life I didn't really create because of lives I created.

Now, I think I see that it has to be broken because, the longer it takes, the more it wears down to an ugly shape that no one involved can cherish, or appreciate.

Scars are scars. 

And I love my babies enough to find my true self for them to look up to, be nurtured by, and befriend as they become beautiful adults.