Ok, so I have been keeping a journal for most of my life so this is just the next step huh. Funny I feel like Sarah Jessica Parker on "Sex and The City" with the typing and all that. My life started in Northern California on the moutain of Mt.Shasta. With a brother, sister, mother and father I was adopted into this world of the living. A fire seperated the house from exsisting anymore and the happy family divorced. On the road with mommy we found love and protection in eachothers arms. Then a life in Sedona AZ till I was 13 and came to live with my dad in Bellingham WA. Obviously a lot more has  happend to shape my life. Here are a couple poems I wrote.                         "New City"
Blistered toes from skating miles around town cause the bus is on strike.
Pealing skin off my fingers from practicing every night. Energy bouncing
around from every direction. Confusing kids lead eachother like laughter 
off the lake down the street into the dimness of the illusions that make up
all our force fed dreams. I want everyone to want me but not like I hate
myself in a different way. What that Is I don't know don't ask me to much I
just work here.  I want to love like the people who are capable of painting
pictures in the moment. I can't wait to find the meaning of what and where
and everything for every reason I ever had. Cork in my mouth, you think you
can make me shut up. No way will you ever run my life again. I will run and
I will hide until your cut off and drowning. Ok, how much do I really know.
For my mom, my friends, and my loves, I would trade my soul if there was no
other way but time after time and day after day I always seem perplexed with
the regular events of normal people. Cause what are we all except normal
unless your a confused Hollywood cynic.

                                                     "Once before"
There's certain things you can't ask me on like lifes worth or your souls
passion. What a waste of atleast  two years and what would have happend if I
wouldn't have been there that year? Am I physcotic to think about my close
friends and family dying or do I just do it so I can try to feel what it
feels like to feel what that would feel like. oh what I would what, if I
knew what I wanted. I wish I was lying, I wish I was joking, but death and
change plauge me with their game. It's almost a test like someone is saying,
I dare you! I wont fall into the path I did once before. Ok, I may fall, but
then I'll get up and fly to the stars.

                                                  "Minute alone"
I spend a minute alone and I wonder where the world went. I spend a moment
with you and I can't keep my heat lit. Who am I talking too? Who am I
talking too? Who am I talking too? Is it you or you or you. Or is it myself?
I wonder if anyone thought of themselves when I mentioned the unafection for
the moment. Why does it seem that faithfullness and faith rest hand in hand.
cause if there was nothing what would that change anyway. I hope I can learn
that I'm my best friend even though I forget every now and then.

                                                  "Laughed, fell, and loved"
My skin coveres my bones and my bones sit in place. I hope I have soul or I
have lived in vain. So many coulded skies. So much smaller the lies. How can
we simulate love? Oh, it's not supposed to be. The melloncolly we feel for
the loss of artist can be summed up in the honest remarks of a gratefull
man. Who's pushing my buttons, whos' saying what and where and how? If I die
tonight will the world remember how I laughed, fell, and loved?

                              "Howl at the night"
Went to where the viper can move around, then noise and confusion left me
unstable. Location new, too much punk rock chix for you. Shut her down and
she'll be crawlling with the vipers soon enough. Bullshit and everyone wants
a piece. Girls clammor for second place cause first is too much.
Inspiration, two by two. From Gentleman  under trees is where I could say I
found you if you resembled any of my loves.

                                                     "Change together."
I'm drunk and alittle stoned and I'm going to bed in the morning and i'll
think about what I said to you from so far away, but you wouldn't hear me
anyway. I've been dormant for years, boxed in too close no where to go is a
big fear. So if I don't have money I can't write, I can't eat, can't play
guitar. Oh wait I can't drop out. i love the good old USA. I thank the
troops and for the president I pray My god your soul he keep. May love and
angels fill  your dreams. Maybe soon we will all change together.

So many things I want to say but the trees dont' talk back to me anyway, but
they do offer a solace when i have fallen and wrap my arms around them. I
breath in their smell of earth darkness, full and alive. A calming feeling
came over me as I kissed the bark gentely with my lips and told the tree I
loved it and thanked it for life. 
                                                     "Tool of destruction"
I give myself tools for creation. You give me a mirrow image. I give myself
tools of destruction and where were you when you said you would be waiting?
death and pain could be envy, what other possibilities await? Love and joy
rest too heavily upon my shoulders, when can I stop to take a rest? When can
I kiss your lips and feel  your breath? How long with I wait for the birth
of my death? and how adorable you will be wearing blue ribbons and muses
faith. how inviting everything more uncertain seems. silence sends shivers
up my spine. pillows are the only thing comforting my splitting mind.
                                                         "The Philosopher"
Is it possible to show the youth of today a peace that starts with the
degridation of their core values and soul purpose? Is there enough color in
the palm of an irus? How much does it cost in order to sell, sell, sell.
Will language continue to try to explain the differences and the similarites
between cause and effect. Self destruction is so fun. what else can be done
to show you we care? Death is only a smile from far away. A cough, or a
sneeze or a bless you from real real close. It's so hard to really consider
a few justifications for anything beyond drugs, peace, and death. could you
be the philosopher? I can bring myself up so high, no oxygen getting to my
brain or my cells, then why do I feel like I'm comming home? Comming home,
comming home, I'll be there before you knew I was gone. I'm done with this
world it's a fake and if anyone ever asked me to describe it I could only
laugh and invite them over for slides. Sometimes I know exactly what scares
me and the awareness of the finality of language is the person inside of me.
Media gives me appitite. I want the world to see my vision. How fucking
funny is that?

                                               "Pop disco death"
I'm still swaying and moving, a blithering vacouse fool so in love with
doubt that a pop song spells death. How can happiness be available to the
shallow? Just like the power that is allowed to posses people, the death
complexe takes many a victim without taking his five senses. How long do you
want to last? How long do you want to survive? How many times will you
laugh? how many times? I don't want to become a cynic and have a negative
outlook on life. can I put my head on your shoulder and cry myself to sleep
with the embers of violence chilling noncholantly inside my head.

                                     "Slutty princess"
So satisfied, fuck you and your princess pride. Fuck you and everything you
represent. Come back all with all your flailing lies. Now you want what's
real, when you never did anything right. Can you show me selfishness, can
you show me calmness or are you just a sluttly princess? There's a
possibility dead sex will prevail. There's so much I want to hurt. There is
nothing I loved more than from moving your stupid lips from somewhere to
nowhere. Oh, oh such a sweet piece of me.

                                     "Black to blue"
So much over it, such a boar. No matter what the hour I can't fall asleep
with you around and I can't stay awake without the sound of your voice. An
unsettled view of a puzzle unplayed. A map unfound. A pain that only hurts
when your around. new fond for fortunant few, only the sleez can renew a
process of the low. The sane thing that found my friend living in the ruins
of ruins and a century later thousands of people sat around and talked when
they dug up his bones, they all felt so honored to find one so old. The man
with the bones just didn't know what to do, until everyone knew how life
went from black to red to blue.

                                      "Deaths delight"
Night after precious night, I play with deaths delights and pat the powder
from the moth on my face so I will be attracted to the light. No matter for
the creature that lost faith. I cannot feel uncertain that moths have no
less a soul than a tree, or a rock. How I feel so fortunant to be as much as
I can to appreaciate. All that life has to dish out will soon end up deaths
delight. We can all chuckle and giggle to the finish and try to get the last
laugh but the one laughing last will have a sickel or a staff.

                                      "The Stuff"
Jon's back on the stuff, that's the word on the street, he's back on the
junk, maybe he likes to bleed, maybe he just likes it ruff. I saw  him on
the street seems like just last week, he didn't have a nickle of a place to
put his feet, no shoes for souls in, just arms with holes in. Latida, like
my brother the painter on his most tradgic day all his colors ran dry.
Latida, like my father figure on his most treasured day all the pain ran out
his eye's. Jon's back on the stuff, that's the word on the street, he's back
on the junk, maybe he likes to bleed, maybe he just likes it ruff. I saw him
at the tracks, it was my first time there and I never went back cause they
play too fast and they play for keeps, and the toys they got are real real
steep. Latida, like my brother the painter on his most tradgic day all his
colors ran dry. Latida, like my father figure on his most treasured day all
the pain ran out his eye's. Forgive me father for I have sinned. Forgive me
father for I know not what I do. Forgive me father for I have sinned and
when I'm on the stuff I don't think about you.

                                "Busy busy"
I wanted more than you could say. Something different than the world away
from you. What do you want me to say, Ten dollars is way to much to spend on
a one time vacation. Self definition allows for absolution, self destruction
allows for recreation. So if this allows for that then what's the difference
anyway? First impressions lead to second days and second imitations tend to
die away. the moment after the moment you realize there's something
different from you and the other girls. The other guys are so busy.

                                 "Other world"
Look how similar love and dope and drink are. There so similar we don't know
the difference. The difference is one creates and one continues on in the
cause and effect stage. the cause is the reason and the reason is just a
name. I feel the more dynamic my life gets the more simpler things make
sense. When I was a kid I wanted friends and friends were bought with pegged
jeans and white t shirts. I tried so hard for the other boys to accept me
into their world.

                                  "Same old kid"
A relationship is never complete cause no one wants to wake when their in a
good deep sleep. Nightmares criss cross and fade and blurr and consciousness
is linked to spirit and spirit is back home. I guess once the blond dirty
haired kid with lazy white eye finally left home only to leave once again.
Then all tucked in mothers wisper and windows with only a sliver of the
world but that was enough to want to leave. The minutes dragged on and the
seconds lasted forever but that's the way it's supposed to be. The seconds
were forever and that's what I'll remember. I'll forever see seconds of
filthy sparkles in  your eyes.

                               "Johnny's comming to town"
From everything to nothing what do i think I have, who do I think I am? A
perfectly scared little boy. I don't want to continue on crying, feeling
overwhelmed by something I don't know. Is it possible for me to be happy?
How would I feel if I was happy, content in love all the time. Is that what
I feel when i feel dumb? When I can't describe anything anymore, that's when
I will stop trying to describe anything anymore and I will crawll, fight,
scream, tear, smile, laugh, dance, flirt, fly, swim, move, accerlate,
evolve, care, love. Who do I want to make happy and proud? Is it you or her
or him or me? Who am I living for, it's must be myself. I just wish I could
live up to my expectation of something not to do with beauty, ego, and
doubt. When I touch myself touching the lovely void of knowing is when I  am
home.

                                     "Do you have to go?"
I remember when you decided it was better to let me go. I found myself
again. I took time to grow thinking about my future and what I want to do to
make myself proud. I've become accostum to feeling alone. I've kissed a
couple trees, shook hands with myself, and cried on my shoulder. I've found
something that I love and it comes from deep inside. You were part of the
dream, but now I'm living life with my visions of love. When I was on the
phone talking to you and I had to go to work, you said something that made
my heart skip a beat. You said, do you have to go and leave me?
That was the sweetest thing you said to me in months. it made me think that
your still in love with me and that's what I'm afraid of. Being in love with
you one time was enough. two times may be two much.