On the Divinity of Tissue Paper

She calls me from the cold
Just when I was low, feeling short of stable
And all that she intends
And all she keeps inside, isn’t on the label

She says she’s ashamed
And can she take me for awhile
And can I be a friend, we’ll forget the past
But maybe I’m not able, and I break at the bend

We’re here and now, but will we ever be again
‘Cause I have found all that shimmers in this world
is sure to fade. away. again.

She dreams a champagne dream
Strawberry surprise, pink linen and white paper
Lavender and cream
Fields of butterflies, reality escapes her

She says that love is for fools who fall behind
And I’m somewhere in between
I never really know
A killer from a savior
‘Til I break at the bend

We’re here and now, but will we ever be again
‘Cause I have found all that shimmers in this world
is sure to fade. away. again.

It’s too far away for me to hold
It’s too far away…
Guess I’ll let it go

 i thought about it today, and asu prolly charges the proper amount for tuition. i think of all the stuff that would cost the university money and im astounded they ever managed to get as far as they did, especially with freeloaders like me. yeah, just occured to me today. a much more important thought meandered into my mind today, mostly likely riding the ADD bus and was unfortunately chased from mind by the ever attentive “PAY ATTENTION DAMN IT OR THEYLL TAKE AWAY THE 32,000 THEY GAVE YOU” police that showed up and forced me to pay attention to math.  it had been so long since i had had such an abstract far away thought. i didnt realized i missed them. you can get lost in such thoughts and then forget them just as quickly, but they leave there mark, an omnious, foreboding, and melonchally feeling. i thought about graphs. about how the slope of a line always has too very innocent looking arrows at either ending, pointing outwards towars infinite space. and thats exactly what got me. the idea of infinite space. those arows stretching on forever. i imagined a little sorta cartoonish looking guy (though nothing really comical about him) rushing down, and by that i mean falling faster than prolly 70 miles and hour. just falling. looking down  and seeing nothing but the endless slope below him. no way to stop no way to slow down, just falling forever. he might look around and what would he see? i think the world would be a mix between sepia, beige and tan all mixed together. and across this near colorless world would just be black grid lines. faded, not as substantial as the slope, but there just the same. hed be falling forever and it would never be anything else. and now i wonder if he knew such things werent suppose to be and i think he must have known or he wouldnt have loathed the slope so much. wouldnt half wish that he could lean forward and simply fall off the slope and and free fall. but what if he should fall forever? then he wouldnt even have his slope for company…. i wondered what it would be like if somewhere along the line someone had graphed x squared. a shape looking like an upside down “U” and if he had come across it what would he think? for the first time in eternity, and most likely the last. the last time. he would see a curve, a remedy to the sameness, the savior of an incline. how would it feel. to have had your stomach constantly in your throat with your body threatening to leave it behind and then suddenly. the pressure of your body shifts with the incline and your feel it in your groin. almost orgasmic, or the closest youll ever get on this infinite stretch of slope and then, when you think youll surely die from such a coldsweat pleasure, you reach the maximum, and start to descend once again. and you realize too late. your only chance to stop the decline and you missed it. too distracted by carnal shifts to realize your chance for escape had come and gone. and then your falling again. eons later would it still be his most precious memory. of falling up for an instant instead of down? and in between such memories would he still curse his fathers name for not having done something? anything? could he not have ended this whole down mess? this mess that is further stressed by its paradoxical nature. in the sense that it is perfect and flawless yet still it is so inexplicably wrong. no man should live in infinite space. and yet somewhere someone fucked up and he falls just the same. i would pray for him that he would take the dive, risk losing the company of his slope just to see what else could be. but i know he wont, couldnt anymore than i could bare to part with my eyes. because you see, he knows. knows very well that he might attempt to fall but perhaps because of his sheer speed or perhaps because he simply wasnt given the ability, he would not fall. not part from his slope. for eternity he can ponder doing it, most importantly hope  to do it. can believe very well that one day in the future (that would be the arrow pointing to the indefinite right) he would do (im really gonna do it! i really am… i’ll do, i, am gonna, ill, could… do it..) it. just fall. but deep down he knows he might not be able to. and he cant bring himself to try because if he fails, then thats it. there is no tomorrow just a cruel arrow which hell never glimpse but knows is there just the same. so he falls. slope. 

he passes his homework to the professor. its a graph. a parabola stretching with an arrow on the left end pointing up and and arrow at the right end pointing down. local maximum is (5, local minimums are (2,0) and (7,0). range is shown as (negative infinity, postivie infinity.) the paper is docked five points. the graph was suppose to end at (9, -2). he throws the paper away the following day but feels a strange feeling in his throat as it leaves his hands. like his stomach is rushing towards his head and his body is threatening to leave it behind. he walks down the handicap ramp out of the building and the feeling passes. 

maybe he was god. or maybe he was satan. or maybe he just is a man without carrying about good or evil or even considering the potential within the hands that guided his pencil.  maybe to the slope the cartoonish guy was god. 

 i keep getting yeast infections. thats a sign of aids or HIV

 i prayed to God that i didnt have it. but if i have it then i have it and i doubt god would just zap it outta me becaus ehe certainly hasnt done that for many people, maybe none. so why pray? would it do any good. 

 i do believe in God.

but i wonder about the man to. i wonder who drew the slope he rides along in life. i wonder if his slopes designer has a slope of their own. i wonder if slopes ever end. or if there just. infinite.  

because all that shimmers in this world will surely fade, away, again.  

i need help. im not quite as crazy and helter skelter as last post. but now im just sad. i like cameron bode. infact, it might be safe to say i really like him. but what good could that do me? justin and me arent gonna last much longer. i can just tell. he told me today that im a really lucky person. what with the scholarship, tempe job, and free place to live. when i reminded him that i worked my ass off for that scholarship and for that promotion he said i was just stubborn. then when i reminded him that i would gladly give up the free place to have my parents never have gotten divorced, he didnt say anyhting. it makes me so mad. i dont want to be around him. the other night i went down on him and i felt sick the whole time. sick that his cock was in my mouth. sick that he kissed me. sick that his hands would slide down my back, rub my shoulder and arms. i wanted to be somewhere else entirely but couldnt bring myself to move or say anything. in the end he accused me of being distracted and not into. and for all my trouble he never even came which he blamed on me for not making it good enough for him because i frankly didnt give a shit about anything that was going on and just wanted to leave. i was sooooo close yesterday to telling him that i just faked it the other night. (i wasnt gonna tell him id faked it every single time weve ever been together, which is far too often to count). but i almost told him about last night. he said i looke bored and i wanted to scream! DING DING DING YOU STUPID FUCK! OF COURSE I WAS BORED! SEX IS NEVER ABOUT ME. EVEN  THE ORGASIMS YOU CANT ACTUALLY GIVE ME ARE ABOUT YOU. BECAUSE IF I DONT FAKE IT DRAMATICALLY ENOUGH YOU GET PISSED AND ACCUSE ME OF GETTING BORED. WELL FUCK, MAYBE IF YOU COULD JUST DO YOUR JOB THEN I WOULDNT BE SO FUCKING BORED!!!!!!!!!!!!! but that anger passed quickly and so no such words were spoken.

and then its back to cameron. emily only made it worse when she said he told her to tell me that the gunslinger was a good book. im desperate to think that hes thinking about me that i decided if he would give em a message to give to me then hed definitely have to have been thinking about me at some time… right? well whatever, it makes little difference anyways since when  i hinted i sorta liked him emily said “Damnit. i had a feeling cameron likes you.” which is horrible because NONE of this. none of this, nothign about me or justin or cameron or random feelings of illness or even if im lucky or just hard working in life matters because I AM MOVING TO TEMPE IN A WEEK. its only a 45 minute drive from home but i theres a slim chance me and justin would stay together much longer even if i was here, none at all when im away. and while there was a good chance me and cameron would have gotten together if i was single and living here, there is slim to no chance of us getting together if im in tempe. so there. thats that. and i fucking hate it. i really like cameron bode and there isnt a thing i can do about it. 

sighs

blast

end

i want to fuck. only kdflak;sdfjio, i cant

infact im in that sorta and my sorta i mean most definitely in that mind state where nothing pleases me and everything pleases me a little bit less. i think most people refer to it as boredom only its more like a nagging jitterey feeling (the word jittery is such a perfect word to describe such feeling because the word jittery in itself seems to be slightly twitchy and on edge, only taking comfort in the clickty clack sound of its nails (such of which would be envious of true talons) drumming on a stone hedge. only for this purpose its the clickty clack sound of me sturmming, not drumming mind you, across a key board, relishiong in the noise of the frequent tap tap tap tap of the delete button as i misspell yet another word. infact, im not quite sure i even spelled misspell right…

fuck i wanna fuck.

and ever pestering are silly thoughts which are most easily smothered in a normal day bred with purpose and direction. no, in days thats wallow in idleness and half failed attempts at masturbation i think about what would best be forgotten and forget what would best be thought about. no, forget it a word that absovles too much responsibility to be honest. on days like today i think about what would best be forgotten, or smothered, im not picky, and i dont forget so much as push away thought that are deserving of thought and more so action. and such as proves that ignorance is bliss because in this very open state of mind realizing all of my actions and more so lack thereof i know EXACTLY what is called to be done to end such jittery almost talon, clacking sense of quicksound drowning yet cruely never actually dying. left in the most agonizing state of almost dyingf but not quite getting relief. speaking of which was my plight today on the bathroom floor almost climaxing yet for the first time ever, i get so close im biting my lip so as not to cry out the whole while KNOWING im close but no fuicking cigar and i wont get to feel the best part and just end up giving up in a most annoying feeling of surrender to the day. deciding that its that fucking feeling of drowning in quicksand which as robbed me of the hightlight of my day. well fuck you mr. galt. but as i was saying earlier i know all that today encompasses and that is almost as annoying as not fucking finishing. see its with my cleverly disguised foe, enlightenment, trailing at my heals, the annoyign, sane, and NEVER jittery, bitch that she is. i know the only way to stop this feeling is to simply stand up and begin the day. shower, accomplish the long, long list of things that need to be done. only i dont want to do this becasue somehow knowing i need to do it robs be of any sort of vicotry over this almost fucking me but going limp at the best part, quicksand sorta day. somehow knowning that i need to do it and actually doing it seems like im somehow giving up even more than i alrealdy have and i dont fucking want to, nor do i want to stay in this situatiion.

insane: theyre trying to kill me?

sane: who?

insane: the nazis!

sane: theyre trying to kill everybody!

insane: what the fuck difference does that make?!?! theyre still trying to kill me!!!

sane: no theyre not

insane: oh yes they are!

sane: who now?

insane: what? you dont know whos trying to kill me?

sane: no!

insane: AHA! then how do you know theyre NOT trying to kill me?!?!?!?!

*triumphant visige*

and that ladies and gentlemen is what they would have you believe

chingame por lado con un CATCH veinte y dos

what have i been skirting around the whole entry? and oh yes, i have been skirting in my mind ever so subtley and misdirectingly, but alas this entry has a cruel new found purpose ( i didnt realize it would have such when i began) once having said it i can triumph or surrender, depending on the sanity of the eyes, to this quicksand not really fucking day. and take a goddamn shower and fucking start!

i want to fuck josh webber, and prolly in time a plethora of other men… so go ahead and judge and then remember to score while the scorings good because this mind state may not last forever, or perhaps it will. clickty clack clicktly clack clickty clack clickty clack clickty clack clickty mother fucking CLACK