The coffee is churning in my stomach. I just want to listen to the beatles and smoke my cigarettes. But I have one left and the song I want to listen to is not on my computer. Early mornings and late nights drive me through the roof. emotional uproar. I see myself as all these different ideals, i can't choose one so i am them all. a mess. i have a tatoo. of an orange tree and black birds. sitting on the porch i got to watch one eat their breakfast. perhaps a sign. banana pancakes. why has the bachelor degree become the diploma? how come I am spending 120,000 dollars to have a job that will never be able to pay back? and why does it take to get money you must spend some. i will not make it in college. i do not draw neither do i paint. these ideas come to me but i have no abilities. no motivation. i close my eyes and look into the sun and i see a mustard yellow sky with dead trees. perhaps it's the desert or perhaps my soul. dried up. polaroids. black matte board and a series of six. alone in the house with only franny and zooey to provide company. anthem. worldly. indian. european. california. she does acid now. nicotine and caffeine. what a cliche. 2 weeks then ten days until i leave. i'm looking through you, where did you go. mail man where are you. where are the messages on my answering machine. where is my apartment. where is tennesse and kentucky. brush strokes and orchids. the dandelions may just swallow me up. the oranges are falling from the tree. drop drop drop. the orange doesn't fall far from the tree. where have i fallen. where was my mother. unstable sunken eyes. 100's, super longs. virus on my laptop. what a party. so hollow, empty. the familiar faces, only acquaintances, i must drive drunk one says. what big eyes you have grandmother. individuality is a lie. something the artists do to calm their nerves. set yourself in denial. ms. ono did you break up the band? let it be. this is not my time. and neither was yesterday or tomorrow. oh pyschologist what part of the brain do you find me. i'm not on the map. i'm in the mustard yellow desert. with rasberry dessert. green grapes. orange melon. blackberries off the vine that climbs on the fence next to our garden. we left our garden for a small plot of land and a box to live in. i want to shave my skin of and find the real me. you hate my tattoo. i hate your cuts. look around you, this life was not meant to be a tragedy. if you want to be miserable to find happiness you life will be on a dead end road. there's no outlet deary. dreary. hot and muggy. the album is white. the vinyl is blue. the cd's are pink. here comes the sun. everyone's gotta learn sometime.

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it's there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you


such strong words. i don't mean it. really. surburbia you are eating me alive. there's no damn good place here. where can i take your photo? no where. where is elise. or candace. or whoever the hell i am. turn the lights off and go back to bed. do the laundry and eat your pancakes. i love you.