damn interviews of morbid nightmares

computer boredom

2006-09-19T22:29:00.000-07:00

album covers are DONE!

2006-09-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

cover:

inside front:

inside back:

back:

hope with holes

2006-08-09T23:31:00.000-07:00

the mere thought of you is a rock in my shoe
a spere in my side
a lump in my breast
smiles inprinted on the very fabrics of my distorted mind
memories are just photographs
splattered onto a wall without any coherent order
touches become scars on the flesh
perfect handprints of where you've been
trails of where you're going
and desires to explore the unknown worlds
of this deserted universe
the hanging moon perfectly outlines every
curve of darkening clouds in utter midnight madness
a clock ticks a thousand beats of a million hearts
healthy hearts, cold hearts
broken and stabbed hearts
and yet tears continue to fall without a single breath
unwanted sorrows and pain filled thoughts
drown my sanity without a backward glance
to say goodbye.

king of everything

2006-08-02T00:31:00.000-07:00

my best friend tony is recording some music. he has asked me to do the artwork for the cd's before the show on the 10th. of course, i am too excited to start this newly developed project. here are some pictures of my progress so far. these are only sketches of what it will eventually look like. add some more color, a lot more charcoal, acrylic and pazzaz, and BAM, he has a cover for his cd's.

#1)

#2)

#3)-- this one is still not finished. i don't even know if it is going to look even remotely like this, but this is what i have so far:

will [he] ever notice my existance?

2006-08-01T16:26:00.000-07:00

i step on the broken glass
i wish i were you
and you were me
a once whole window
shattered into a million uncollectable pieces
my soul
held together without a hand
to keep it in place
every breath is another piece
i end up pivoting on with uncovered toes.

you once held me in your arms
my heart studied the rhythmic beats of your heart
and for those moments in time
time ceased to exist
and the deafening sounds of exploding stars
froze.
your smiles leave me hanging on a string.

"comming back over to the straight side?"

2006-07-23T02:16:00.000-07:00

rotting sunspots

2006-07-20T09:40:00.000-07:00

i can be your withered leaf
floating in the wind of
inconsistencies and imperfections
destined to fly forever
without ever touching your precious soul
will you damn me to soar without a single breath?
will you condemn me to keep reaching for you
only for you to keep walking away?
i'm exhausted of dying
only to find myself not dead already

Nose Candy Car Ride

2006-07-10T19:56:00.000-07:00

August 28, 2005. The scarlet curtain of my tainted life opens. The stage is set with Ashley and me sitting at the coffee shop in Eastlake looking for our next fix. We get a call from a friend who would be on his way over to sell us our final 8-ball: pure, rocky, and most of all, deadly.
It was a rhythmic habit, a pattern of ritual: the mirror, the amount, the razors, and finally, the straw to nose inhale. This happened for five hours until half the bag was gone and so were we, into a world where nothing mattered and numbness invaded the physical body.
We drove to a nearby park, waited for the children to get off the swings, and swung ourselves. Up and down our feet went, staring at the sky and then the sand beneath our seats. Feelings invaded like we were flying. We jumped off the swings, tumbled down the hill like rolling balls, and got in the car again to drive to the next park, but never made it.
I lit a cigarette for Ashley as she’s driving. As I hand it to her, I notice a strange twitching in her shoulders and head, as if she’s looking at something on the side of the road. Her body begins to violently spasm. My metaphoric curtain re-opens, tattered beyond recognition. I am forced to take the wheel, for we are heading towards oncoming traffic. The SUV heading towards us honks their horn repeatedly. I pull off onto a side street, not knowing how to drive a stick-shift car, and to add to the horrific scene, my frantic mind is so high that I can barely comprehend the situation myself. “ASHLEY, WAKE UP! WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!” I scream over and over again.
The street is on an upward hill which reverses the car backwards. Ashley stops shaking, and breathing. Her body lays limp and lifeless in the drivers seat next to me. I throw myself on top of her to try and stop the car. My right leg resides on my side of the car, while my left leg forces the break petal to the floor of the car. My hands frantically move the stick gear between my legs hoping I might find the right one upon a whim. With success from gravity and the cars’ brakes, the car stops a foot away from parking itself into someone’s garage door. I call 911 as I hit her violently to try and wake her up.
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” I continue screaming at the top of my lungs. As I’m hitting Ashley to wake her up, I holler on the phone for the operator to return because I can’t remember if actually talking to someone or not. I yell at the radio to shut up, not knowing it’s just a radio and not real people outside the car. An ambulance finally arrives and takes us away to the hospital, the EMT’s are fully aware of the two grams of cocaine we have both consumed individually. They are shocked she isn’t dead because of the amount ingested in accordance to her emaciated body.

August 29, 2005. The curtain is now in flames. Blood red streams drip off the fabric into a pool on the ground. We’ve both OD’d, but I have forced myself to stay awake and as alert as much as possible on behalf of Ashley to answer questions, even though my answers are wrong. The police officer arrives and arrests Ashley with a DUI. I get off and don’t ask any questions to reduce the severity of the situation. I call my mother to come and pick me up at 3:00 in the morning. She inquires to know what has happened, but I avoid a long telephone argument and wait until the car ride home. She is shocked to hear of my current conducts.
As soon as I get home, in tears and angry, my mom helps me clean out my room of all the residing illegal drugs and paraphernalia in case the police decide to come and raid my house after all. Crying and sleepless, the remaining hours of the night are spent huddled in my mother’s arms bawling every time I hear an ambulance or police car drive by, thinking they are coming to arrest me. They never did.
I withdrawal for three days in my mothers queen sized bed. Unable to sleep, unable to eat, and full of nothing but tears and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (I later found out from my therapist), I found myself awake in the middle of the night screaming at the top of my lungs “WAKE UP ASHLEY WAKE UP ASHLEY” while hitting my pillow or my mom.
A week into my withdrawals, my mom carried me into the bathroom and bathed me, since I was too weak to bathe myself, or even stand up. The warm tap water soothed my back as she rubbed the soapy liquid over my frail skin which was extracting the remaining drugs in my system. I held myself close as she washed my hair, running her nails across the scalp as I closed my eyes thinking about all that had happened in the days before. Small tears ran down my cheeks like rain on a window pane. She wrapped me up in a towel and helped me get dressed because I was too weak to do it myself; then I crawled back into her bed again. This was an ongoing cycle for several days.

June 2006. The curtain is now gone, burnt to a crisp, and my past as been exposed for all the curious and intrigued eyes. This incident has left me with countless hours of outpatient institutions and NA programs. Ashley, since then, has moved to Washington, D.C. to get a new perspective on her life and to work on her own sobriety.
Since the accident, I realized how close I was to death, to killing someone else; to loosing the one person in the world I love. I know now everything and everyone I ever took for granted and I am sorry that at the time, I never loved them as much as I loved my addiction, because while obsessed with the drugs, nothing else mattered except where to get more. The rug has been pulled out from under me, and I’m learning to live, love and feel all over again because the drugs numbed so much for so long that I physically and emotionally could not feel pain. This is the most difficult obstacle to overcome, and one I will continue to battle because my once desired and attainable outlet (drugs) is not an option anymore.
My decision to become sober resulted in losing most of my friends. They either abandoned me for their own love of the addiction, or I abandoned them because I did/do not what those things around me for temptation. In turn, new friends were made, ones that supportive of my new lifestyle.

June 3, 2006. My proudest moment happened while playing video games at a friend’s house down the street. His girlfriend had bought drugs, cocaine to be specific, and my weapon of choice. She wanted me to see it, to make sure it was a good batch and that she didn’t get ripped off when she made the deal.
I held it in the palm of my hands. So easy to take, right then and there, in front of everyone, or in front of no one. Its covers twist between my fingertips and I squeeze its insides under my nails. I gently pry the plastic apart. What am I waiting for? What am I waiting for? I raise the contents up to my face, inhale. Memories flow through the channels of my brain. I close the baggie. I shut my eyes with the possibility of forgetting everything and taking it, forcing it into me and ruining everything I've worked for, everything I've starved for, everything I've lived for. I hand the white powder-filled bag back over to its original owner who gently grasped its being and replaced it back where it belonged in the drawer, unharmed and untouched by my lustful tidings. I return to the social gathering in the living room, grab my alcoholic beverage and finish it off. I walk home... clean.
That night, I had the power in my grasp, the cocaine literally in my hands, the smell inside my head, and the desire flown out the window. I walked home without a single shard inside my being, proving that even though it can physically be in front of me, offered to me, even the sheer smell crawling up my nose; I can refuse any temptation to return to the past.
But when sudden moments stab into my mind, moments of wanting it, needing it, and longing for it, I remember how much damage I caused to everyone’s life. I remember every last detail of the accident and why it happened and then the desire is gone. I know that if I do drugs again, there would be no hope for seeing Ashley again, because I cannot influence the downfall of her sobriety, I must support her sobriety. This August I will have 1 year clean, and the filthy journey is still not over, my hands are still dirty and tainted with secrets and yet sweetened by smiles of those who truly love me.

your migrane gone insane

2006-06-02T22:58:00.000-07:00

the ache inside each fiber of my cracked fingernails
the torment of my decaying hair
plead with all the mightall the stench of these passing days
will never add up to your perfect being
apply the make-up one stroke at a time
one blade at a time
the scars will never heal
picking at the scabs only to revisit old memories
stories of an affair never buried
you taunt and tease with your limber ways
the splitting smiles and bleeding eyes
you tear holes in my already withering heart
heart already shattered too many times
spread too many places
stored in too many cupped or waiting hands
and when the time comes you for to finally come running
the cement will be all alone
only an imprint of that piece of my heart will remain
with no person it originally belonged to for you to hold
i will be gone
lost in the surrounding music of the hanging moon
a distant memory you thought you could have
a shoulder you once could cry on

did you remember to savor the moments?

2006-06-02T01:10:00.000-07:00

just the game

2006-06-01T22:17:00.000-07:00

i'm going to alexs' house in a few minutes to get drunk again, to lose myself and escape from this wretched reality i call "home". i'll probably get drunk, call rachel and cry about how much i want her and want to fuck her and rape her and she'll laugh in my face about it because i'm not supposed to be feeling this way for her or her to me. alex will then strip naked and run around the house and his girlfriend will light up the bong right in front of me knowing i quite and am trying to stay sober from that shit.

my life is crap and there is nothing i can do to change it.

i am crap.