In the midst of late night games of tag and hide and seek I like to sit back and watch the kids ring around the rosey. It�s a bit sad how people regress in mobs. Mobs, large groups. They get together and all of a sudden muscles are flexed and cocks are pulled out for size comparison. It bothers me that I know some of these people. It bothers me yes; to a point of wrapping my arms around the cool white toilet and vomiting out any memories I might have of any of these people saying things like �Yeah, I�m sensitive�, or �No I�m not a slut�, or �No, I don�t tease men�, or �I care about you, I want you�. No I haven�t taken anyone serious in years. I�ve no need to. Actions speak louder than words. Doesn�t anyone know this? Doesn�t anyone know tales of debauchery have been told to my deaf ear for a million years now? I don�t think so. I don�t tell people how I feel if it�s something I don�t agree with. First off, it�s none of my business. Secondly, I do what I do, they do what they do. There�s no in between anymore. There�s no overlap. The things I want to do are nothing like what anyone wants. I�m a boring guy. I want to stay in, or go out with a couple of people and joke around here and there, and walk home holding hands with someone. There�s no one like that around here. I don�t have the fancy guitar work down yet, and I don�t have the lip history. I don�t have many references around here. There is a family of shared saliva that I would rather not have anyfuckingthing to do with at this point. It has gone so far now that it�s become a ridiculous parody of itself. I like to sit back and watch people spiral downwards though. Sometimes it�s the only way to get through to people who are �friends�. You don�t get a word in edgewise, why not just watch them smash into the wall? Then you can walk over with that big shit-eating grin on your face and a glass of iced water with your hand out �I told you so� When they go to grab you hand you pull it away. �I�m off to see the wizard� Girls do their hair up in blue and green and guys do their best Billy Idol impressions, I laugh my head off at them. Sounds like fun honey. Thirdly, No one wants to hear me talk. I have too many stron opinions. I�d rather leave them in my head or on here where a small number of people I know and don�t know read them. I don�t want to get into telling people what to do more than I want to tell people what not to do. I am no ones father here. Hugs just don�t feel the same when the same arms are wrapped around every warrior around the corner. There�s no personal feeling there. That feels good because it�s strong I guess. What�s happening upstairs though? Air and oxygen. Or lack of oxygen maybe? I don�t feel like falling down anymore. I haven�t fallen down in years, since this past few months. I feel wasted. I feel untouchable. I feel stronger. I feel weaker. Everyday is a new emotion. I like the cool iced water going down my throat. I like the feeling of arms around me. I like being myself. I like to always be myself. I don�t want to act anymore. I don�t want to start a new trend. There�s no �new me� that I know of, I�ve been here all along. I�ve been inside this shell here, and I�m not coming out no matter who asks me. I�m not going to vote for Bush if I don�t agree with what he says. I�m going to be the guy who plays a bad guitar, and brings someone roses when they ain�t got none. I doubt I�ve met this person, and I highly doubt I�m going to meet this person in downtown Salem on a Saturday night. I�m going to stay in front of this mirror and beg and plead and pray, but I�m not going to go to the movie shoot this week. I�m not going to go to the scene where the guy walks in and wraps his arms around the girl and says �honey I�m home�. I have no home with anyone. I have no place to rest my head except right behind me with the pillow and the blanket and the dinosaur. I light candles for me, and I fill the room with Nag Champa, but I go at it alone. Sure the door is open for visitors, I just don�t know if the visitors are coming any time soon.

before & after