{ugh}

Alex: Pompous, Idiotic, Egocentric, Cunt Eating, Ogre Feces Sucking, Hidious, Insignificant, Tart

Hayley: Brilliant, Euphoric, Artistic, Universally Tantalizing, Idolatrous, Fountain of Undying Love 

THIRTY-JUNE-TWO-THOUSAND-NINE

douchebag DOUCHEBAG!

i hate alex malex alrex spalex talex palex kalex

and hayley rayley rayley  tayley  mayley  nayley  

<3,

eric bo beric a nanan fo feric mi may mo meric ERIC!

{The little boy who grew wings}

In the distant land of not quite here a boy awoke with streaming tears and cried to see the other side of Mount Betweena's snowy slide.
He slept at night, at least he tried. He dimmed the lights and closed his eyes, but always from the great outside, Betweena's peak held untold trials.
The sun came up on him one day and smiled light into his face and as he rose his body ached and burst around he turned and faced his mirror he saw had replaced his arms with wings of gold and lace.
From his room he sprinted fast, to cross the peak for once at last, all his dreams would be surpassed and soon the mountain would be passed.
He climbed the path, became a hill, became a slope, but higher still Betweena's tip expressed its will, to not be crossed by dreams fulfilled. 
He passed the places he had passed on every day that had come before and reached the cliff where he stopped before and spread his wings out ready to soar into the distance, future, and lore!
But as he stooped, preparing to leap, he looked out, down, beyond past the peak, the beyond to him looked  suddenly bleak and no longer did he desire to reach. 
The blizzard came fast, it came from the east, the first thing it froze was the boy and his feet, solidified ice still stuck on the peak, the golden winged boy still ready to leap.

Not in the distance lay honey and milk, wrapped in silver, placed on platters, and covered with silk.
Often to honey would milk go and say, "This silver existence is awfully lame! I want to be covered by gold covered lace! Put an end to all of this dreary gray haze."
To which, each time honey would say "Honey just wait, tomorrow's the day. From over the mountains, we shall be saved."

But back on the mountains our hero, unstuck, unfrozen, unable, to blame it on luck, slowly begins, his wings to retuck and return to the village, down in the mud. 

This is the end, for now, of Part 1

TWENTY-THREE JUNE TWO-THOUSAND-NINE

{build a baren crib for karen}

owls of the night or early morning seldom take flight unless for scoring hunted and flightless mouthfuls pouring into the sight of sudden touring into the night and early morning played with the height and than deformed internally moistened by the joining rejected out for somebodys learning torn and defaced and replaced and than tapered, scalded and welded and  portraits on paper, placed in preface pretends our creator who looks at the lake and lets loose all the hate for mankind is unkind and this kind of a line is undrawn in the land and defined by our hands ability to take and to shape but to make is to break to become to be done and we gunned down the fun just for fun and were left with a handle that was handed upon us and phonics made pheonix become placed between us and we burned in the fire just because we could see this and out of our ashes he rebore himself and left us for destructed and debased before we were revased and cremased and shown to the floor by the fist and the broom and the bag and the drawer that was drawn like the curtains were inked liked the squid that was squeezed into homages done by a kid who could raise quite so proudly the things that he did while refraining detaining the sounds of the grid and the lines and the dots that were plotted against him on plots placed on top of the twin city basement with bargains below that were blown out before that would incite the type that would incite a war that would invest in copper and rejoin the four who would take over westward before moving forward and thrust like the just who would come when they please to be inducted conducted and fought for by trees for the sake of the oak and the place of disease that was floating above us like floating like me like floaters and boaters and strong chimney sweeps who keep us in tow and in town we defrown the unhappiest clown and make aces on faces that give us unsound and unlighten the darkness so sober can see to become one with sun and two left with me left me with myself and myself left with grief and ontop of old smokey we still found the cheese.

SIX JUNE TWO-THOUSAND-NINE

"The Eric Show Episode ONE"

SLASH SLASH SLASH GRIN GRIN GRIN 

I was all alone. And you were there. I opened the drawer and let in the light. The colors surrounded me at the apex of understanding and strangled the darkness and I cannot breathe. And than I realize that none of it exists and I awake content, outside the screen. She smiles as she holds my dreams over my head. I look up and say "Don't". She turns on the light and I disappear. Reappear in a bottle. She reads me and sets me free.  

"Why do balloons burst when there is too much air?"

"Why do you ask stupid questions?"

"Why do you make words hurt?"

"Feelings are just lies we tell ourselves so that we can pretend to have purpose in life."

"Why are you so alone?"

"Why are you so weak?"

"You think you are all powerful!"

"We are."

"Than I guess you don't need these anymore..."

"Do what you think you have to, but remember, I am still here...."

"I won't"

"THAN DO IT ALREADY!"

The sun falls, and again a thousand tinier ones take its place and stare into my head. Each one projecting its death upon me until I supernova. This world is too concerned with its blue and its green. And always she is there. And she wants to take it from me. 

{jiggle my nickels! ill tickle your sickle!}

waiting on the eve of the day to look outside and fade away into sunlight scared of day: sacred playgrounds hideaway 
long trip, once slipped, more than that but only tipped, soon ripped, glisten sip, squeam and squirm and firmly grip
consume, your womb, swipe the nightly entrance june, denied still i try to open up my bitter eyes
why write why fight, its all the same night after night, out play, out say, outside, you stay away
emote, demote, we wrote, rewrote, we wrought, i sought, lets play, i  fought
oh yes, i guess, we tried, our best, we made our nest, thats when you left
no words, just move, dont feel, dont use, dont make me say what i wont do

now that thats out of my system wipe the page and let me glisten dazzle you with glittery words that sparkle, darker, HARK! Yer Gold! In fox, in trot in plots of dots connected by a sailboat lock, intergallactic, radioactive, plastic coated waxy masked men! take me bake me into fast wins planted in the planets sad winds winding grinding losing siding sighting on the british ivy, break a bat to boast a boot, and lose your lab to let it loose, but slip it neatly into noose, and nose your nuts into caboose! kits and kindles leaking lentils, rush more beets to quentin hindle, break a promise than resend youll make your way with nothing mend all!

WHAT
AM
I 
SAY!

Story time! Little boys and girls! so sit on your stools and let down your curls! we want to make Marry tell Mike about Bikes that get stolen by dykes who get pulled in the night!
So Marry told Bobby, told Rachel, told Sue, who told Steven, and Jerry, And his brother Lou, but noone told Mike and the dykes stole his bike so he went off to England and got him a pike and a pied pipers pipe but they ate out of lemons that they flew on kites, and into the breeze blew the words that hed write about the magical story of Unicorn Ike:
Ike the unicorn knew hed sooner scorn tykes who uniformly told him the way
that Ike as a Unicorn would much like a tuna corn wrapped in a piece of horn key lime soufflé
Ike got ripe and grabbed the knife and hid it deep in Simons eyes not once not twice but twenty nine ice 
cold scabs could be grown inside of each slice
woe is me cried the miser tree! 
Woah look at me! cried the slide with glee
Simon could cry but died to flee
the crime committed against manity
but hu was on break so the sea cows came late 
to the rape of the great ike who sat on a plate
why oh why oh why oh why 
didnt the planters pretend they grew pie
were the last words cried by the unicorn ike
these were the words that mike declared right
in the eyes of the masterful mistress of night

WHAT 
WHAT
WHAT 
AM
I 
SAY!!!!


deny! deny! the self thy prize!
the price is high but the payment is right!
and instead of depending on ending in bed
put instead on your head a piece of white bread!!
pour it all out and than live without
i cannot pretend that i like what i felt
when i poured  it all out
and with letters i SHOUT
but whats it about i say whats it ABOUT!!!

TWO JUNE TWO-THOUSAND-NINE