Pogo: The story of the last unicorn.

It was always assumed that I was mythical, even fantasy. The world has changed since my time here on this soiled planet. I remember forest of evergreens and the gentle songs they would sing. I can recall the streams that ran crystal blue. The wild flowers that wanted nothing more then to be appreciated. The mountains with their many changing mood colors, and the way they would grow in anticipation for the falling snow at winter time. A time where seasons lasted as long or as short as you wanted them too. A time when innocence couldn't be lost and death was never final. A time when our earth was the center of the universe. Before science, religion and politics shaped our landscape and brainwashed us with social acceptance. Our primitive thought process was so forlorn to judge the would be wicked and cut down the uniqueness of this world with blinded ignorance.

My mother, My earth, my blood runs through this old planet of mine. In my time here I have seen great destruction and mass genocide based on the fear of the unknown. Mortals who cause the modern day birth pains of my mother are a toxic parade of impatience and weakness. Since the first tribulation when your kind bit the apple that caused death and shame. I have sat back until now, waiting, yearning to set the record straight about my species. I have watched you argue and destroy my Eden based on petty beliefs and religious differences. I have watched as you enslaved your entire race with your monetary system. Fed your spoiled, maggot infested food to the starving Children of this world. I have sat in silence as you napalmed innocent people, launched your waste into the universe and molested & corrupted the would be leaders of the free worlds. I have acted as a free spirit waiting for a time when someone would come forth and speak gently about our shared planet.

I have watched you pawn off the rain forest killings as the work of paper companies and publishing corporations. When you and I both know that land is plowed to create pasture land for livestock so you can fill your gluttonous and impatient appetites. I have seen you destroy creatures for testing hair products and for their fur. I've awaited the day when people would come forward and ask the killings to stop, the earth to stop be denigrated and the flowers to not be removed. I have lived in your filth and bathed in your spilled blood over foolishness. I can watch the tears fill oceans and the bodies stack over the African continent. You are a small minded, self preserving nation of individuals who live life with no acknowledgement for other life forms and you wonder about undiscovered species.

If a birds voice is not heard does it exist? I have watched the bee species diminish into a scarce confused species. Cell phones and your impulsiveness to not sit in silence leads to the confusion of the most important species on this eroded earth. Your need for constant communication because you fear the wrath of what this world would communicate to you. Your lights blazing, music blaring to drown out the cries of your ancestors and the memory of the trees. You fail to acknowledge a world without you in it. You actually feel your species is more advanced than the rest of us, you believe technology is a new endeavor. When nothing has really changed at all, you still need shelter, food, water and clothing. Your species has falsified what living the good life is with your harmful material wants and needs. You take calculated risk to justify peace talks, when the only real peace is found within my Mother.

I have flown over polluted oceans, and watched as you deformed the living seas. You have killed off several species who have never been explored or who had the chance to evolve. You have underestimated the wealth of life you have destroyed and the damages are irreversible. I have descended and have talked to the overfished bounty, the constant digging, prodding and drilling. The inexcusable waste, the packed landfills, the toxic air and the bacteria ridden water supply. I can come to only one conclusion. You have raped my Mother, and abused my heritage. You have fornicated our spirits and souls to fear you, hide from you and not trust you. You have forgotten your promise to the heavens to watch out for us and in turn disobeyed the Gods. Their judgement will be unpredictable and your hearts will cry for mercy and our answer will be NO. Days are coming when this old Planet will have it's just reward.

You contest your responsibilities and rule out prosperous subcultures. You have turned the tide in your favor to misguide the young and mislead the elders. The sages of time have witnessed your acts and will not take pity on your havoc ridden primatial disguises.

What have you done?

What have you caused?

If technology is your answer then you have deepen your debt to passerby's and the fireflies. Long since I stood in my place of solitude and felt completely in-tuned with nature's spirit. Long since I have walked the hillsides and brought good news to the decrypted ancient world. Our planet, my Mother, yearns to let go, to start over. We have become a victimized self-fulfilling prophecy. I can no longer be seen, and nor can my kin. You have awoken the dreamer and crescendoed his sleep with talks of reality and real life. You have made your children forget their invisible friends and made them non-believers. We are now a distant past, worlds away from the days of old. Our stories are no longer told and the hero is lost in words like MYTH, and old wives tales. We do not hear of our serenity or our charitable good tidings. I have become mortal in your eyes. I have fallen from my pedestal you once dreamed me upon.

I am plain, I am normal to your eyes. I no longer can fly or possess magical powers. My dreamer has awoken and he does not sleep. For in sleep the toxicity of the world you defecated becomes his prison. I can no longer break through to him. No longer does his heart yearn for the dreams of a soulmate. I am but a distant vision and a child-book song, sung to deaf ears and a dead past. There is no rectifying, there is no hope for me anymore. I will fade to dust and rejoin the stars. There is no room for me in your crippling, dying world. The stuff of dreams has all but diminished and you will continue to consume until nothing remains. Until the oceans dry up. Until the forests wither, the snow and glaciers melt. Until every commodity is eroded and all resources have been neutralized.

You will wage war on one another because of such times. You will become a deformed subspecies and your minds will shrink because of no nourishment. Your souls will leave your infected bodies and you will feed of your own kind, until you can't remember your true nature. For that nature you abandoned when you chose your free will over your obligations. You will live your last days as if the sun no longer cares to shelter its strength. Your days will be spent in hiding from its powerful radiation filled rays. Sores and tumors will grow upon you for the air becomes a harmful chemical reaction that makes your lungs bleed and your throat close. You lose the ability to produce and you give birth to non-breathing, lifeless entities . Your eyes no longer see clearly because you have blinded them with poor judgement and lustful coveting. Your sense of smell can only sense the decaying bodies you left in your wake. They do not turn to dust, they stay rotten for the bacteria filled air preserves them.

Eventually you pass on and crossover where you will await your judgement and you will wish for death, and it will not come. For eternity you will live with the regret and punishment of your actions upon the living energy resources. You will be haunted with the gravity of your demolition and your destructive aspirations. I will call to you once more and you will ask why? And I will not answer, for in your question you have answered for me. Good Bye wicked world, when the dust settles and air clears we will rebuild our home and will once again roam the many distant lands of my past. With that it mind, remember me, believe in me once more.

I bid you, adieu.

POGO: The Story of the last unicorn

flickr.com/photos/ mollybzz/3006787207/

Fate & Destiny

At a single glance, a single dart toward the heart, a lasting feeling that takes your breath away every time you think of her that first time. For some, a trivial and emotional roller-coaster ride. For others, a confusing mindset that splits the heart in two. One path leads to a planned, content and civilized home. The other, a blind voyage into the unknown and the only thing that is clear is the way you feel for each other. I can still remember those mental pictures snapped in my head from our outings together, those gentle eyes gazing at me and the way her hair was a batch of organized chaos. If fate had a role in this, then destiny had to play catch-up.

I for one have never felt this before, I can't explain it, and to paraphrase it would not do it justice. For the first time in my life I felt I had met my other-half. To look into her eyes was like looking into a mirror. I could just sit next to her and say nothing, create nothing and do nothing and completely and utterly be in a euphoric state of mind. It's true that I have had many lovers and long relationships in 32 years of existence, but never was I this vulnerable or completely at a loss for words. I had been the bearer of hurt and the dealer of death to many hearts in my life time but this is not a story of a broken heart. It is a story of a heart being healed through the power of faith and a couple twists of fate.

It was not a lustful relationship, to be totally honest we never even kissed. It was a young and innocent love affair with stimulating conversations and intense open eyed stares. I know her facial expressions by heart, I know her many casual glances. I know my own and they are not that different. If I could sit with her for the rest of my life and only hold her hand and listen to her laugh I could say I knew what being in love felt like. Our meeting places were not hidden and secret. Our conversations were not scandalous and perverted. Her presence with mine felt like two souls joining for the first time. The energy we through off was cataclysmic, and made the stars respect our union.

This life is yours to lead, and I can proudly say I've had love, felt love, and lost love. I will always question my thought process on matters of the heart. I will always believe and remain guided by the hopeless romantics of the world. We make the kiss last longer, the love grow with each passing year and the dream reachable. Some would call us fates fool or destiny's choice. Little do we know there are many cards at stake. Many choices that make or break us every day. When dealing with matters of the heart let us be impulsive. Fate is always around the corner, and the question always follows behind, "Where were you a year ago?" "Timing is the one thing you can't count on." For me I didn't plan on falling for her. But I did. That is something I will never regret and our story will reach the fallen and the non-believers to empower them to believe, it does exist.

Rain fell hard that day and for some another headache. Others frustrated with the downpour. Few recognized the beauty of it, the very natural way it flooded into our lives and hearts. Those denying it's massive presence will just never understand the hopeless romantics out there. Rain is way of cleansing and refreshing the toxic waste of human kind upon the earth. We are a fallen species but at times an emotional carousel of progress. She wasn't average, she wasn't mediocre she was the one. In order to start this right I must first have to dabble into the stories of our past. Our oldest past, when Fate and Destiny agreed on time and place. When they understood their purpose to make people follow in the commandments of love.

Fate always the careful one, the meticulous one. Destiny, more the aloof, fly at the seat of the pants, the procrastinator. Her eyes met mind in my favorite season, Fall. Fall is the most understanding of all true romances. The air was cool and crisp, the sun caressing my face and the leaves beginning their metamorphosis. I to was in a cycle of change, my faith in love at a low point. I had just battled a tough divorce and was bitter with change. Change is the one thing I can't get used to, I never will. I had taken some time to gather my thoughts and try to put back the pieces of a failed romance. It's difficult sometimes to let go and walk away, sometimes it is easy and other times a mutual understanding.

I was giving a lecture on advertising & creative thinking, when she caught my attention. Her outlandish questioning and passion for her ideology could rival a criminal trial lawyer. I wasn't use to explaining myself, nor did I feel I had to. I agreed to speak with her after the conference to explore her subjectivity. She was young, bullheaded and built like a brick shit house. Her eyes were the color of glaciers and her hair like the mane of an appaloosa.

She was relative in height and she had a swank in her small but powerful voice. The constant questioning made me feel like I was on a talk show. I invited her to get a drink being her installment of questioning was wearing on me. She was young, hungry and ready to fill her mind with my methodologies.

The night was filled with intellectual, passionate conversation that led to me inviting her out for a second night. I hadn't known it at the time but I was aware of a certain jewelry piece on the left index finger. At our second outing I invited her to a mutual setting for lunch and we talked about what that ring met. She was married and happy, her husband was a financial planner with SmithBarney. He was fresh out of college and hired right out of school being he finished top ten percent of his class. I could see the way she lit up when she described his being. All at once I turned the conversation into a professional meeting of the minds and tried to wrap quickly. As we parted that day, part of me wanted to see her again but I knew that was not the ethical or professional way to handle such events. She was a taken woman and such conversations could bring temptation knocking on the door.

A couple days later I received a call from my witty admirer asking me to join her for lunch. I wanted so bad to see her but knew that would be a breach of morality. I denied the invitation and told her I had already eaten. A week past and I ignored calls and messages. I was taken the highroad for I knew what hurt felt like, wasn't I the egomaniac. As I was wondering the halls of the convention center for the last summit meeting I saw her. She strode up to me with a casual dottle and asked, "You are hard to reach!" I told her at this time in my life and you recently married I don't think it would be a wise decision to hang out. She looked up at me and said, "It's just a beer." Well, I fly home in a couple days, what could it hurt, I thought.

Being she knew this town better than I, she drove. She took me to a sunny dockside restaurant, where we sat outside and drank some local micro-brewed beer. It was unusually warm for this time of the year so it felt good to be outside. With each passing gulp of refreshing hops and barley another memory made. We combed through our lives like forensic scientists and the end result was a DNA match. We said and felt the same things. We had done and enjoyed the same activities. It was like having a conversation with yourself in the mirror. As the sky darkened and the day turned to night the many faces around us changed but we didn't. We were stuck in some trance, and not only were we engaged in the conversation but our souls as well.

Every passing minute ticked by and her face changing expressions left an impression in my mind like I was recording an amazing event. I had found her, at last I could be me and she could be her. The sky opened up and the rain fell hard, hard like as if the heavens had awakened an the Gods had brought two souls back together. As the crowds moved away from the storm we embraced it, for we, had caused it. As I took her hand in mine the chilling feeling of be totally elated and complete hit me. It was as if everything slowed down, where we could see every rain drop reach it's destination. Her eyes fixed on the rain as well and then back to mine. She blinked in slow-motion and here she was, my MYTH, the woman I had written about, fantasied about and longed to meet.

With another round ordered we engaged in talks of the heart and the what ifs. When I talked she was totally engaged in the conversation and she lit up. As we closed the check out I took her hand and walked with her down the pier. We looked at the boats, and we gave them new names inspired by our new found fate. There is this mental image of her at the end of that pier that I relive often in my head. I wanted love so bad, I wanted to totally fall into her and I wanted to just be with her forever. Foolishness and infatuation were words that did not apply to our union. Our souls new it was right. As I led her to the end of the pier we looked out on the moons reflection on the water and we embraced. Not a kiss or an awkward touch, a genuine hug, that brought our souls and hearts so close together it felt like the part that had been missing from me my entire life.

She was my puzzle piece, my corner stone and my MUSE. The stillness was defining, the peace was warm. Everything was right where it was suppose to be. She gently pulled away and looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears of joy and confusion. I knew I had to let her go now. It was at this moment reality set back in, she was married to a great guy, a man of trust and honor. Her phone rang and that was that. She would be leaving for the evening. The ride back to the convention hall was silent, the rain flurried on the window shield the silent hum of the engine was methodical and soothing. The tears began to fall has I left her car and turned back to her. She rolled the window down and said, "fate's a crazy thing, it's just never on time is it?"

I looked at her whole-heartily and said, "To bad destiny was sleeping, it was to worried about matching couples instead of matching souls."

The story of us ends here in this parking lot. Not ever knowing what could have been, or even what was. She doesn't pull back around and get out of the car and scream take me with you. She doesn't catch up with me at that airport and stop the flight. It was a walk in the clouds a taste of humanity and a glimpse of what it feels like to totally lose yourself in someone. There is not a day that passes by that I don't look for her around the hallways and airport terminals. I've visited that spot often, I stand on that same pier, sit in those same Adirondacks and remember that fateful evening when Fate & Destiny met for what was a love that never got born.

I never called or checked up on her. I'm still single and I have had my share of relationships since then. I was always looking for her though and never found her. I know that I can't be mad with the way things unfolded and no one is at fault but I do know that I will breathe my last breath with her name. I will find her again, when those stars align in my favor and when the rain falls hard again I'll look up and know she'll be there. With those eyes like deep pools of unexplored waters. I'll close my eyes now and relive that moment until I can feel my puzzle piece complete again. Goodbye for now my MYTH... Find me again, where it rains without a cloud in the sky whether day or night. Where it falls in slow-motion. Our love was the stuff fairy tales are made of and movies can't quantify. Till we meet again my muse, I Love You.

Security In A Canadian Couch

It was always there to be one of the securities in my life. I always gave thought to the normalcy of children my age with their security blankets and pillows, but nothing every took. I wanted so much to use something more efficient, something more controllable. Life had always took me to the reminiscent familiar feeling and comfort of my special place. Where I could be a kid again and life and worry weren't part of the mediocrity. Life, as I knew it was not easy, owning up to the finer things in life can be a burden on a young child. My spirit grew to know the ways and hows of fooling people into believing I was,.. Well, normal.

I can not express in so many ways my emotions, I believe it was always the sense of urgency that my parents bestowed on me. There always seemed a proper way of doing things, and then there was my way of doing things. I chose the latter way of dealing with the problems of my youth. It wasn't all snowfall and family gatherings, it was a tight ship in my household. My grandfather was a depression baby and WWII Vet. My father fell into his footsteps, Vietnam, War Hero, and then into sales for Nabisco, in fact, he was one of the fortunate ones to get in on the ground floor of that company, by the time he was 27, he was worth millions. Money was his first love, and then his family came second, after his womanizing of course.

The years of my youth rolled on with morning PT, and language classes. Then it was off to piano and violin lessons. The very root to my problems came with the conception that I was exposed to a life of privilege and nobility. I didn't want this life, I didn't ask for this, "Privilege." I remember my father always stating to me, "When you say yes to something, you just said no to something else." Oh, the warmth of my childhood... Walking around the estate home felt like a fortress, maids, caretakers, butlers and handmaidens. The love I received from my parents felt forced, and artificial. Security could only be found in my beloved couch, where I would dream of a harder life, and orphan life.

Why did I contemplate the very essence of my existence? What was I to become? If your entire life as the third male born to a history of War Heros and successful businessmen, wasn't it inevitable that I was to become the fallen one? The one that held promise, the future of my name, my heritage, my legacy. So much pressure for a five-year-old. So much pain and suffering, why couldn't my father show vulnerability and sensitivity? Could he not be fatherly, am I forced to believe I would never truly know my father? It was at this moment that my fears were realized. I would become outset and dark. I would be the one not smiling in photos. Forced habits and going through the motions of adolescence also felt awkward like I was in a dream, but fully aware that I was in a dream.

My youth was spent at beach houses, estate homes, and on european terraces. I would have loved to had lived as a pauper, my entire fundamental childhood was spent kept away. I was so far removed from the normalcy of life that I began to believe the only world that was out there was the one I lived in, inside my head. Church was a joke, money grieving whores in white robes. When I went to confession it was the most creative part of my life, I actually got to lie about things I wish I could do or say. Ten Hail Mary's and I was clean of my forged sins, I guess the biggest sin was lying that I sinned... Men that sustain from sex, shouldn't where dresses in my opinion, and they wonder why the catholic church has seen it's share of sodomy and child abuse.

Ah,.. the privileged life, where you weren't free to be you, only the person you were suppose to be. My addictions started young, but not in the sense of what your thinking in your head. They started out as tiny white lies, enough to pull you in and accept lies as truth. With time they grew bigger and bolder. It was my escape, and in the comfort of my maple leaf soaked sanctuary I was free to conjure them up. It was at this point I began to live, to invent my precarious sub-life. I have never spoken openly about the things you believe and the reason you believe them, but since the dawning of time we have all told a little fib... Right?

I remember it being a cold, crisp fall day, the leaves had changed and the explosion of color looked like a box of fruity-pebbles that were scattered across the lawn. The scent of holiday spices suffocated my nasal passages. It was by the old oak that was toward the back of the estate when we first met. The oak was strong and planted by the Vanderbuilt's centuries ago. It stood tall and black, its girth was that of an African elephant. Massive, was a word that felt small to describe it. He went by the name, Lucian. A proud man, noble in his appearance. His eyes were deep pools of darkness. His skin, the fairest I'd ever seen, even in the north east. He was a lengthy man, tall, thin, and drawn. The circles under his eyes enhance his dark round pupils. He was an engaging creature of the earth.

As I began to sink deeper into my almond colored cushions, I remembered this first meeting vividly. "Good day to you," he said. As I walked up to the tree his appearance became more known. "Good day to you," he said again. "Can I help you," were the words I had conjured up to help in his own awkwardness. His demeanor grew corse and his eyes shifted to mine, with his head tilted slightly he began to smirk. "Hardly,' He replied. "It is not I that need help, my path has been written by my own hand, yours is but a sketch on cheap paper." Interesting I thought. His outward appearance was unique, his tight fitting black clothes were layered and flowing. "I'm sorry do I know you?" I said nervously. With a dance around the tree, he said, "Possibly, but once again you requested this audience." "I did?" I said puzzled.

He circled once more and squatted to the frozen ground, his back leaned against the old oak. His steps were quick footed and light, he hardly made sound when he moved, it was as though he almost floated more then walked. "You, born of privilege could not possibly entertain the thought of my past, I have come to tell my story and would love for you to tell it." It occurred to me that this was some sort of prank, but getting an audience with this type of person sounded forlorn. "Oh, I tell stories now, and who would listen new friend?" I said sarcastically. He paused, got still, so still it was almost reptilian. His eyes gazed upon me like he was trying to hypnotize me. He finally said, "The world!"

I was baffled, a strange guest, an unusual task, and an impossible assignment. Who was this person I conjured up, or for that matter what he asking of me. Maybe this was my chance to make my way, this was the outlet of this world between the here an now.

Jack O' Lantern Swing Set

I guess I never gave thought to who I was or what I was saying, or why I was saying it. I never gave a shit about most things that came my way. Life is criminal, it's an injunction on the realm of the dead. Foolish mortals. Have I become so evaded to the consequence of time that I forget my own being. Lost is this world I live in... and fuck, I created it. I guess I have no one to blame, or one thing to blame. Or maybe I can do the usual and blame the parents, or the environment I grew up in. I can stand and protest to confess that I, a white man, living in a white world with white walls am a product of my environment.

Yeah, that could work, I'll be, "that Guy." I'll start a rally and protest the other white oppressed people living in this decaying society. I'll even have a fucking flag for the cause like the gays do. Maybe I'm gay,.. no that would be to easy. I could pin my destructive nature and the way I don't admire God's creation on the fact that I fuck the same sex. Amazing how most people do this. Nothing holds beauty for me, I pretend so much that I am happy. I'm not even happy when I cut someone off, or cut someone down, I do feel more secure in the fact that I am an asshole. I love being hated, admired and lusted after all at the same time.

What am I getting at? What? Is this the quintessential, "Note to self." Angry, some would say, but I'm not. I get a kick out of sad people, and hurtful love stories. How these useless fucks can spend so much time pondering the ways and hows on why they can't fine love. Well boo-fuck-hew, the reason you can't find it is because it does not exist. Your a fucking animal that can communicate with the other animals and contemplate the ways and hows of this thing called love. Animals that are ready for euthanasia, and I'm buying.

My parents missed my birthday in the close of the summer of '87. That was a sad day. Fuck it. I don't understand those fucks either. It's my birthday, it's my birthday. Who really fucking cares? Really? Let me go buy a generic card, with generic under articulate meaningless shit on it to show the petrifying society I remembered when your mother shit you out. More fabrications, more distractions, let us deter for a moment why your place in this world is so fucking meaningful... Wait, it's not, it's really not. Your birthday, like most holidays wreaks of untimely expenses and hours of brain power that could otherwise be spent on blowing more societies, creeds and religions off the planet. And that my friend, I would have a piece of cake for.

I love when I say something so self loathing that I get an erection. Erections are interesting as well. In fact isn't that the reason we do most things as "men" or "guys"? To show off our erections? Job, gym, car, education, portfolios, stocks, bonds, 401k, pets, extreme sports, etc. Everything after all is just another reason, an excuse to show your erection. Then you ask if it's big? Did you get off? If you have to ask fucktard, no. The answer is no. I know longer care about who sees my erection, I would rather pay a hot stripper a buck-fifty to fuck me. In the end your paying for it, might as well hit it and quit it. Sounds like another rap song.

I hate those fucks too. Rappers, and the whole hip-hop fucking subculture. More like a carnival side sideshow exhibit. A bunch of wild let loose monkeys running around flinging shit on people, society and the white devils. You mean the same white devils that purchased your inarticulate songs stolen from great music writers of 60's and 70's. Those same racist slave owners who dress like you and talk like you? Those whites? Those crackers? Nothing is more shameful then any nationality wanting to be another nationality. They should make drugs legal, so these fucktardulis people would die faster.

I hate EMO kids too, I'm not gay but I want to fuck them like the pussy's they are, singing and crying about love or a girl that cheating on them. With their blown-dried side swiping hair. Maybe they would not have left you, had you of manned the fuck up. Seriously? It's not even music, it's interpretive crying. Tight pants wearing, wrist band bearing, fairy fucks. Music is fucking dead, in general. American Idol, can some terrorist just hit that stage number, please. I'm not sorry for the things I say or rant. These are my thoughts and you can choose to read them or not.

I am an angry fuck with an agenda to make the sugar coating melt off this fucked world we live in. I hate that money from my paychecks supports welfare plotters to throw their government checks down the throats of the seminoles' slot machines, and I refuse to capitalize seminoles. There not a tribe they are and annoying bunch of meth addicts. They are a dispensable people, filled with disease, bad genetics and poor hygiene. They prey upon the weak and old to build their bank accounts not giving a single dime to education or the country that allows such acts. Casinos were a bad idea over all. I love them however. I love to see people fall victim to the rhetoric, the puns, the false hope. It amuses me. Go ahead, call me a walking contradiction. I welcome it, any label will do.

Anything that pacifies your thought process so you don't have to live in my urine and cum soaked society. The Starbucks is still open, on every corner, of every city. Charging you more because coffee with milk is said in a different language. The same language you refuse to learn, because their in America, and they should speak American. Wake up, you walkers of routine, you sea of sameness. You fucktastic species, you care more about the death of a pedophile than the death of a soldier. More about an actress than a starving kid. More about an advertising pitch man than your own kids education. Your priorities are fucked and your a cursed people designed to say and feel what your spin doctors and talking heads tell you to feel. I can call this out because I don't care. I'm lost and not trying to be found. I just want to know how I got like this.

Society is so twisted to believe the power lies have over you, your backward thinkers, you think space should be explored. Why? So we can fuck another region of the galaxy up? You know why the stars remain beautiful? Because we can't touch them, we can't poke and prod them. We can't contaminate them, position them or direct them, they just are. Unlike you, who stands in line like cattle and sheep waiting to get sheared. Religion, Politics, we are fucking stardust, spit on a lab slide. A complex organism geared to destroy and ruin. We are nomads running wild on the abandoned streets of Sodom and Gomorra. Armed with pathetic contracts signed by slave owners and traitors of the crown. Terrorists, we invented the word because we lived the word. 

Negative, call me negative. I'm not, we are all socially awkward. Maybe I should call it that, maybe this is my vice. Maybe this is my problem. My grandfather use to say, "I love people of color, just not people of color." Racist fuck. Don't get me wrong I still lock my doors when I drive in "those neighborhoods." But who doesn't? Then it's my family, I have to put it on them, I should put it on them. I mean they are the ones who made my choices for me? They are the ones who raised me, taught me how to think. Love wasn't absent from my parents, I came from a great family, house and have a great sister. Chistmas's were the best.

No. That's not it. I was told to grew up. That's it. I was told to grow up. My childhood is over, Peter Pan has died. I can no longer sit alone and play with toys and dream about flying. I have to grow up. I am no longer obliged the innocence of the youth mindset. I have to be like you people reading this grotesque display of ignorance. I have to walk and feed among you vile air suckers. Who pontificate about a green society and then suck down resources. I can no longer run trough fields or build forts, because interest has accrued on my credit card. I am a victim of growing up and thinking like death-waiters, aka grownups.

I remember a time when life seemed filled with adventures and treasures to find. I miss feeling lost in my own precarious thoughts. I miss waiting for those expensive holidays. I miss wondering what love is and when will it find me. Why did I play this hand? Why did I even sit at the grownups table on that one cold holiday night. That is when everything went south. That's when I lost my youth and the want of more days in the sun. It's my fault, It was my choice to make. Can I go back? Can I start over? No.

I am destined to walk among the dead-living. The mindless self-decrypting blood bags who walk the embankments and concrete jungles for average under paid acts of service to ungrateful clients and customers. It's cold out here and none of these swinging dicks have a clue about what life should be about. If I could sit in the silence of yesteryear and fuel my mind to not make the mistake of joining this group of sheep who's only purpose is to sleep, fuck and defecate on themselves. I would cut the years of my life by half. Because 30 innocent filled ones is better then a lifetime spent with any of you toxic destructive primates. I have long awaited the relinquishment of my responsibilities. I have traveled both the narrow and paved roads. I am at this time stuck on a one way road to nowhere and I have plenty of money to get there. It's time to derail. It's time to just stop my feeble mind from exploring the known path.

I used to see shapes and animals in the clouds, now I forecast another scorcher and predict rain. I used to want to see the world to hold the beauty of god's presence, now I can't even capitalize the word god. I miss expecting the unexpected, now I hate surprises. I understand and know hate more then I believe or know love. I don't have children. I don't even want them, appropriation is not in my being any more. I want to revert, I want to Benjamin Button this bitch and go back. I want to walk past that grownups table to the kids table, and most of all, I should have never stopped swinging on my Jack O' Lantern Swing Set.