It Was the Last One, I Swore It

The Last One, I Swear

Fire Starter: A Love Story

If you are in love right now...stop reading and get back to it, it's gonna get cold and dry.

I am a grown ass man and so no longer have fantasies about love or finding the perfect mate and living happily ever after, those days are dead to me.

It has been my experience that whenever I meet someone I am remotely interested in and would even consider starting a relationship with that might lead to what you people know as 'love', the spark only ignites the fires of hell. People are simply too needy for my tastes.

Why do I have to call you every fifteen minutes? Why do I need to say it all day long? Why do we have to cuddle after sex? Why do you want to borrow the keys to my car? Why do you need $500 to bail your ex out of jail?

Many upon a time, I had love. It was always warm and always made me very happy. We could spend days and nights together and never have a fight or even a disagreement. We could talk about science and art and politics and all the things grown-ups talk about.
Then the needs start popping up. "I need you to say it...you never say it."
What the fuck do I need to say it for? Don't you FEEL it? "Yes but it's nice to hear sometimes."
Okay, I love you.
"That was nice but it didn't sound like you meant it." And therein lies the rub. At that point, I will light them afire if they're not already packing their shit and aiming it at the door.

You will say I have no patience and you will be right but they made me old and now I have no time. My needs are simple.

Here's what I want:
1. have a career (or atleast a job)
2. say what you mean, always
3. leave the baggage at your mother's house
4. no stories about the ex(s)
5. never bring Jesus to bed with us
6. take it like a man goddammit (that goes for the women too by god)
7. be self-confident enough to know when you are being loved

More Spray Paint

Maximo

Notes for Mr. R

Take Note:
Sleepless again tonight, unable to be still for more than a couple 'hours. The innocent will pay tomorrow. There will be much pain. Call unicef.

Warm milk. Sleeping Pill. Brandy. Sheep. Soft music. Loud music. Dr.Seuss and Spray paint. I did get dizzy and fall down but that's not the same as sleep a-hole.

Once, I was awake for 48 hours. Do you know what the mind does with no sleep for 48 hours? It fills with syrup and chains.

Pain.

The Main Pain is Lain Bane.

More Experimental Spray Paint Art

Random Thoughts for Mr. R

Dear Mr. R,
Tiny gods have beckoned me once more to examine my true nature.
I have of late, been challenged by various fits of human drama unfurling like an onion all around me. Nothing too serious; missing teens, deposed kings, drama queens and numbness in my solar plexis.
In the past 24 hours, I have been angry and pensive, brutal and embarrassed, critical and kind and thoughtful but brash. None of these pairs seem compatible, like a jack and a deuce...what the fuck do you do with those?

I have said many times: "Do not let emotion rule you." "Emotion clouds judgment." "Do not pray, Do." "Act like you have more brain than heart." "You cannot see clearly through tears."
Today was no different though it was much harder to keep it all contained, but I did it.

I feel it all and simultaneously. My bones are screaming. My blood feels solid inside my veins. My skin is tanned and mimics stone. My soul hovers over me, afraid.
Write that one down Mr.R "My soul hovers over me, afraid."

So, with all these storms inside my brain; these tiny gods that cause all the rucous, I wonder why can't I just run away?

Well, I could say something cliche' like: "play the cards you're dealt" or "put on your best poker face and don't let anyone see what you have" but its really not like that. What happens when you get tired of playing?

People use life metaphors too much I think. They start believing in fortune cookies, then one day, someone sees the face of the Virgin Mary in a tortilla. We are much too easily swayed and even easier to dissuade.

Hope? Hope is for rivers Mr.R, hope is the embryo of prayer and who would hear those prayers? The tiny gods inside your brain? And what can they do? What have they done?
Wait. I feel a poem coming on:
Pray to tiny gods within your head as proof that you are still undead and when the voices answer back, another day will you attack.

I apologize for that outburst kids, I couldn't stop myself I couldn't stop those tiny gods o mine.

Liquid Sky