Guys I missed you all at the college and I hope that you all had a great time. You guys always rock and I am sure you had Panties thrown at you all night. Just remember to wash before you wear them!!


Hey man the truth must be told! I am posting this because I am not trying to supress the truth.!

You Are A Metrosexual! Are you sure you're not gay? Not a girl? You spend your last car payment at the Clinque counter. And your beauty routine? A two hour ordeal... not including hair. All girls like an attractive guy - but with your nightly facials, you've gone too far! Are You a Metrosexual? Take This Quiz :-) Find the Love of Your Life (and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.

Oh and what I was feeling yesterday is so so over. I do get paranoid at times. Its just another result of hunger. I needed a snickers bar.
My mom had surgery yesterday, but she came out okay. She had the tunnel syndrome in the hand and rist. I forgot what it's called. Now she got a perscription for Viccodin and I am gonna try to sneek a few pills. I like that stuff. It rocks!!!. I also have new work. Lets share with the world.

Deceased heart only survived with lifetimes of what ifs.
The plague of possibility's past.

If everything, were enough to satisfy
lay-away love,
surgeons wouldn't gross nearly as much, for the pacing of irregular
beats created by unforgiving doubts.

The phone ceased to ring.
Contemplation of ways to forget consumes the 26-hour night.
Complete failure to find a way to move on.
If patience were a song, I'd still remain tone deaf.

The phone rang and an overjoyed 27 seconds of fluttering resurrected
hearts running for the much-anticipated call, was destroyed by the
greeting of a southern accent accompanied by "May I please speak to the
person in charge of the phone account?"
Immediate crash. Return to realism.

Would loss be more tangible if the possession was an actual fact?
She was never mine to claim, even though all moments shared, shrouded
facades of hope.

This heartache is crafted through questions born in over pensive
cerebral concoctions.
To end the process of thought would be ignorance's optimum bliss.

Destruction of questions would make music
A lot less harassing


Daytime are the hours of masquerades,
While Nights without sedatives reveal truths
Hidden behind capes and cowls.

Void of consolation,
pens cry with bleeding blue disaster onto mocking pavements of white
blood cells.
Absence of red and yellow,
make it impossible to paint any other picture.

My mind convinces my body that its lack of lust is the fault of my
foolish heart awaiting perfection.
My self-inflicted lies are the only things ensuring partial sanity.
Sleep hasn't seen a peaceful night in enough time to give my eyes the
luster of heroin inflicted tragedies.

A lottery of lost words, that were invented too late to be useful, leave
sharp reminders of all I've could've done.
Uncertainty tortures analytical mind.
Do we really have to analyze things to death?
Does everything have a reason?
I repress myself, only to explode louder than gremlins fed after
midnight.

This world was my creation.
I now dwell in its deserted cities, overpopulating empty closets with my
ego's tragic exaggerated dreams.

Tell me when to stop.
Tell me when to shut up.

As of tomorrow I will have abandoned my soul. It has become too heavy
with regret.
Too much of a burden.
I'm thinking that I'll just leave it at door steps of a church with a
note that reads "used soul, please show it a home"

In the new empty space where my soul brought nothing but pain and grief,
I'll place a lifetime supply of epidoral, to ensure that my heart, is as
numb as hers.

If the phone were to rings, I am now prepared for the inevitable cold
response that follows neglect.

I continue to sob even without a soul.
I lose myself in moments as thin as angel hair.
I haven't found my way, I just chose a different route.
To live, and not to feel.
To lose, and not try cry.
To win, and not to care.

As numb as prosthetic legs.
As dense as an empty whale tank.
And as useless as she always knew that I would be



Jane says that I should work on the last line. her suggestion is this

As numb as prosthetic legs.
As dense as an empty whale tank.
And as detached from my humanity as a God, but not believed in.

I like it. It just might work. I will ask for her permission, and leave it attached, if it's okay with her. She really rocks!!