another loss - vi

faith is porous on the streets. you only have what you see, and anyone wants you to believe there's somethin more for you, if only you trust them for a moment. you gotta keep your faith deep in your heart, and not extend it to those who would use you... i tried explainin' to you about your bike, and how i needed to switch it out for mine, and could get it back to you tomorrow if that was okay. but you lost some confidence in me and could i blame you? we did not run in the same circles anymore. we argued for a while. i implored you the bmx was safe inside my new digs on Magnolia. i offered you collateral if you wanted, i would leave my rings with you. if you wanted we could go and get it later. you thought about it and either you extended some faith in me or else you didn't wanna argue anymore, and let it lie. i helped you pack your stuff and clean your place so you could get your deposit back, and you let me shower there before checking out, because where i was going, well, they might have had the law behind them and plenty of cash, but these corrupt attorneys letting me a room, well, they coulda been arrested for uncleanliness...

Journal # 04.20.15

I am listening to the kids playing in the park across the way. I know adults who sound so giddy. They also have been entrusted little to no responsibility. They can line up for lunch in the parks. They can play silly games and do things that seem irrational. Nobody really listens. And no one picks the adults up at the end of the day, unless it's the law. I am listening to the kids and then the birds. I cannot see the birds unless i inspect the trees closely. Same goes with everthing else. I try my very best to mimic the different birds. The cat looks at me despairingly. I give him a plate with an oval of cream. He laps it up, then licks his whiskers and dreams of the mother he never knew. The cream holds its shape well. I step on the scale. The sound of the mechanism rocking into place. Finding me a number to hold onto today. XXX. Within fifteen pounds of the weight I have been within fifteen pounds of since I was fourteen. I am thirty pounds heavier today than I was then. Hopefully it is all in my mind.

My toenails are painted silver and nobody sees them. My fingernails are not painted. Nobody sees them. My highlights have grown out, so what could excite me anymore? I cannot look forward to sleep. The passage of time disturbs me. From moment to moment, life seems so simple you cannot let it get away from you. And then it gets away from you. I wanna think of you and the kids and the adults seem like kids but don't get picked up at the end of the day. Unless it's the law. A good day is a day I have not much interest in myself. I listen to the birds and the bells of the church ring the hour. I try my hand at mimicry. Then fight to have my voice back. I am tired of the me and my shadow. Whatever happens to me now, is not my concern. Terrible things have happened. Incredible things. And many endless dull days in between. I set my course for the stars, and when I arrive they are city lights and desires. So I struck out for friendship in the night. The times are amazing and I am loved and hated. In the end I got only one thing and that was out of there, alive.

'wet dream on dry toast'

Aka - 'computer dissociative'

original material from K IS SILENT (partial)

The olive oil days were over. He should have known. He beat his head into the mahoganey like Perry Mason lost a case. So began the vinegar taste in the back of his throat, phase. He felt a feeling he knew well. All his bones shifted like some skeleton robot gone up and shorted out. Computer dissociative.

Off some where walking now with the interpreter was the girl. Saturnine with a lemon twist. Her freckles, sun kissed. The new fucking smart phone attache foreplay. Distraction impact high and non-resistant. She made a lovely nouveau interpreter’s assistant.

Not no store bought, this jam he had got himself in now, praying with a cigarrette out on the steps of the halls of justice. This jam was more like apricot preserves or some shit. Some district attorney’s intern’s intern, gave him a menacing look and an evil eye. 

No smoking on the steps to the halls of justice. Dummy.

Profile: filter systemics, 2013 - ii)

Ya, she was dope like white collar crimes seeping through your walls in a barrage of white noise. Getting a pass even in the Obama reign of overdue terror on starched collar crime spree offensives. Like the library finally collecting on borrowed books. Then throwing the book at them. You only have a chance by immediately exercising your right to remain silent, getting Perry Mason for your lawyer, and certainly never taking the stand. Not even in the appellate courts which, for sure, you can bank on seeing. The be unseen and unheard approach. Without argument at all, in the idyllic case scenario. Prayer circles at night promoted through facebook by the extended defendant family, for some effective tragedy, like a juror's amnestic situational disorder, or a should i stay in lieu of a should i go, or a premoral anarchastic divination, or, just an inequitable act of god ghost-written by the by-law insurance carriers of the judicial branch of our great order of litigation, usa.