Thanks mom glad we could talk...

I used to write in color thinking that crayons would save my life... But tongues decide what we devour and they only speak in selfish grey half truths. lets write another chapter like my youth... we'll both say sorry but only one of us will mean it... I push it down like garbage trucks compacting all the junk to recycle it again ... Lets be green.. I miss the beat and keep on skip skip skipping it I stutter trying to get thoughts in to matter or in to something that does.. your cancer shows through the bandages you hold together with whiskey and abandonment they glue like scotch tape in the wind your floundering cause your alone..... but you wont let a word get in edgewise... I can't communicate when all I spit is radiation..... Lets be yellow .... I stare through tired eyes but you can't see the signs and you run right past... lets be red.... the ears they recede I become the snake let my guile be the flag....Don't tread on me.. Forced to be in a role a thousand times my age call me Methuselah and run wild again.. cause you are winter and cold snowy days you are space but not neutral always hungry to consume you are the vampire... but you don't want to be your mother now do you?  Rose colored glasses are they only color you have.     

Haunted

Day after day 
I'm left alone in this haunted shadow
Of the life I used to know
In the mirror I see the empty shell of a corpse
Withering and wasting away
The wind whispers of reminders
My demons and failures standing before me
They chase away the sun and I am left standing
with the leaves swirling around my broken dreams.

You are just a tank top with a fistful of plastic.
Sweet denial emanating with the stench of UV light gone wrong.  This is so wrong.
Summers light does you no justice, it just sheds clarity and proof to my eyes.
You wear animal fat proudly; letting it slowly spread across the mold.
Paint it to the best of your ability.  Black and blue will draw more attention.
Let it drip out the empty holes in your eyes.
Let is smear this waterproof disaster.
Please don't tell me this is permanence.
You speak falsifications like hellos.  Never bothering to show remorse.
Rejoicing with fellow followers in conversion of strays, with a cigarette resting on top of smeared lipstick and pearly whites.
You are the result of over the counter drugs and cable TV.
Just a number in a machine... please take one and wait your turn.
You are so notorious; pull the strings up a  little higher.
Un-do just one more button, attract the one time interests.
Wink and smile perfection. Did your daddy teach you that?
Or did he purchase you for the purpose of rebellion and dishonor?
Go ahead... slide out your bedroom window.  Barely acknowledging his existence of a cushion with eyes glued to home videos, wishing for time travel and a ten story house.
Go ahead... distribute your embraces, sell your soul to the lowest bidder.
This is so wrong, but then again... you are just a tank top with a fistful of plastic.

Our tongues laid to rest this argument..... could you ever understand, our hands grew cold......... standing on a cliff on borrowed timed and stacked knife edges...we hang posters and sing hallelujah ... we paint our selves so reverent .. but what happened to the fire in out stomaches... we say be quiet in this building but aren't we the building but we paint over our selves happy and sing cliches to tuck our selves in while our children perish in the street....... we put on masks saying it's all okay when there is a typhoon in our chests .....our feet so worn down but don't question.... our mouths are grave yards and these ghosts that come forth hang on our chains but still we tuck ourselves in with cliches while our children burn to ash..... we've been made mummies embalmed and wrapped so tight in tradition and laid in the coffin...but don't ask questions just eat what we are fed and if we feed long enough it becomes truth and if it's truth than it's sacrilege to speak... or long for something more than silence.... I want to talk swords of fire I want to change all my teeth for razor blades.. but still the vision is short sighted Help me remove these vultures from my heart and start fires again I am trying to start fires with filthy rags and will power.....We speak and teach about passion but are the first to kick it out if it doesn't fit in with siting down and being silent ........but still we all trying to get to heaven one catch phrase at a time.....one magic word at a time we appease our conscious by being well dressed in well dressed buildings but both our insides reflect our hollowness and layered pleasantries....I want to send thousands to flight with the beat of the drum but we are fighting for time with time against time and tradition....

Investors and inspiration missing or lost?

So today I am really stuck I need to find investors to get things going on the business side of my life, but unfortunately due to the fact that my only potential investor hates my guts for calling on their B.S. life style, it seems like I have come to an impasse. Although truth be told sales have kind of slumped and I am not really peaking interest with any of my pieces. I need to be more unique I suppose but that will come with time really. I do suppose I could start begging more but I hate bugging my friends more than I already do.Well just gotta keep at it, I have stumbled upon inspiration but with my moods it's either massive  or minuscule I don't appreciate bi-polar inspiration or so it seems to be the case. I am also really worried about starting school again not about passing or failing but more like finding the funding and what we are going to do about Rafe's care that really makes me scared because I don't know who to trust to take care of him. There is so many more people I don't trust than I do I don't know how I feel about that... I am tired of having to worry about money or cost or when I start a project the thing holding it back is always funding, Or time but mostly funding. It is getting old. This is a weird first post but it fits cause I want to make this a place I can be more honest among true friends, unlike Facebook where I could be but I would receive cliché replies that would be for looks and making the commenter feel better than actually delving deep and being able to humanly relate, not just say things for aesthetic reasons.