I'm glad I have my eyesight, because I am going deaf

It's interesting how words can spark memories, and they flood back into your mind in full colour. Sometimes thinking is a thousand times more real and vivid than a movie could ever be. Dragonflies.
They've played a role in my life much more than anyone would think a simple insect should. It seems to me that some of my fondest memories involve insects.
...I still have dreams from time to time about the house my dad used to live at, on Reef Point Road. The way there was winding and hilly, and my dad was a reckless driver, and I'd have nightmares about falling off these roads several years afterwards...
The home was on the lake, and surrounded my woods. Needless to say, there were a lot of insects.
In the summer when it was extremely hot, the insects would fall into the water and die. Often though they'd be trapped on the surface of the water, still alive, with no one to save them.
Who wants to save a bunch of insects?
I was young, and dragonflies intrigued me. This was far before I got my fear of anything with more than four legs.
I stood on a dock, and reached into the water, picking one dragonfly out after another. Their bodies and wings covered in water, they were unable to move away from me. This was the one time I could catch them. I carried them up the stone steps into my dad's dark apartment. I laid them there, to dry and to cool.
"They're going to die"
A few hours pass.
They begin to fly.
They flew.
They flew up around the rafters of my dad's apartment.
I haven't felt so purposeful in my entire life since that time I saved those dragonflies when I was six years old.


this isn't poetry or anything, sorry to get your hopes up, or to debase this "blog"

I found it somewhat odd when I logged on here and read that Travis' theme this week was "dragonflies".
It was only two or so days before that,and a day after I found out about my grandpa's stroke, that I was slouching in seal bay park at the edge of a disgusting pond with my legs just barely dangling above the festering brown water, watching a dragonfly land next to ayri, and thinking "Fuck I hate dragonflies." Moments later ayri says as though to let me know she was able to read my mind " I fucking hate dragon flies."
"fuck man, me too." I affirm.
we sat in silence.

So, it was a day after,while still visibly shaken from the news I had received about my grandpa's passing, that I logged onto the blog and read "dragonflies" as the theme.
And I thought
"FUCK I LOATHE dragonflies"
I spent the day alone, between crying sobs and silence.

Now today I found a break in feeling defeated.
To celebrate , I went rowing on the lake here at the farm.
While shouting along to springsteen, forgetting all the bad that had been recently occuring in my life, and nearing my docking point , which isn't so much a docking point as it is a place next to the flagpole in the backyard near a rock by the edge of the dark green and slimey yet welcoming water, A pair of mating dragonflies landed on my ore.
At this moment, I was disgusted at the sight of the fornicating beasts, so I looked up and away from their hideous bodies. Upwards was the flag, and for the first time this week I noticed that the flag I was docking next to, was indeed, flying half mast.
The emotions flooded back into me like an overwhelming surge of pain.
" I FUCKING LOATHE DRAGONFLIES" I choked on the words.
and I sat in the old rowboat
but this time I was not alone
I was sitting right next to some fucking dragonflies.


In Recoil

The news came through the telephone wires, as it always does, accompanied by the stunned silence and horror that follows
The wires must have shaken as they said the words, they brought life to the lines as though incantations.
It seemed all existence was measured in relation to this event and I found myself unable to adjust to the change from count-down to the stacking of years which had just arrived.
I drove non-stop for days to get there in time, though ultimately all that I had was time.
From outside my old home nothing had changed, not even the maple trees she used to tend so regularly dared to show a sign of grief.
While my siblings sat downstairs, resilient as the maples though their words resonated through the house in consternation and outrage, I was in my old room chipping away at the wall.
I didn't care which of them believed most completely in their own entitlement, I just wanted to make sure I got everything out of the house before the history I'd left behind was erased.
It only took me a few minutes to find the old hole that I'd used to hide marijuana cigarettes and pornographic videos.
I dug my hand inside and pulled out anything I'd left behind, not wanting to lose anything no matter what happened to the house.
I came up with a copy of Stud magazine and an emptied plastic baggy as I'd expected, but also something unusual.
I always thought it was the angel of death, the quiet buzzing that would rattle above my bed from somewhere inside the walls
but as I opened my palm I found nothing more than the hardened shell of a long-dead dragonfly.
I brought it down to show my siblings, but all they said was, "Can't you take anything seriously?" So I went back upstairs and carefully lowered it into the old hole in the wall and left.


Sleep now little one, rest your weary head

Two summers ago, in a fit of rage, I ignored all my friends and took a nap in the shade.
They let me sleep there untouched, assured that the shade would keep my pale skin safe from the sun.
When I awoke several hours later, still embarrassed from my crying fit, I was burned to a crisp.
I got angry with them for not waking me.
They told me that while I was sleeping, dragonflies landed on me.
All different kinds.
They crawled on my face, down my legs, and flew away.
I walked into the algae filled water to cool my burnt skin, and watched the dragonflies with suspicious eyes.
Those areas, were home to many rare kinds.
Rare kinds that rested on me when I was in such an stressful state.
I looked at them and felt blessed.


Rome wasn’t built in a day
The stones took years to gather
and to stack one on top the other
but still, Rome was built
in spite of the forces pulling it down
and the ones who wished it would crumble
who ground it’s walls to dust in the search of blood
who held it dearer than they should have
and in spite of those who held it dearer than that.
Rome wasn’t built in a day
but I still feel it crumbling down to dirt
less than it was when it began as rocks
less than it was when it began as mountains
nothing more than dirt and dust and marrow
leaking out onto the grass
as rivers form and rush outwards
deep and away from it’s final gasps
forming new canyons in which to bury a history of dirt.

This Week's Theme Is:


Ryler Dustin

"they've" got it wrong

I've begun solving, and I'm beginning to think that

"they've" got it wrong.

Because it's not so much denial as it is confusion and disbelief

you can repeat those words forever in your head, but they don't say anything to you

No, it doesn't say much of anything to you. Not until, you recall back to the time those words were first spoken into your unwilling to listen ear, like the first time someone tried to teach you math.

The way addition only equaled greater confusion, and subtraction left you with a loss of reason that you could not bear.

Yet there was something there that told you to keep struggling, to hold on, that eventually, you'll find out why one and one want so badly to equal two

Why if you take one away you only end up back with one single number that sits waiting to be added back to some forgotten equation.

I wasn't never any good at math,

but I can only imagine, that when those words finally hit you.........well maybe then, for the first time, you'll find out the real meaning behind the word 'goodbye'.

and that while zero might just be a theory,
in existence is something that we eventually all live

I am still learning.


This Fire

Honey, we are done

There's nothing left to lose


With The Nerves Of The Bumblebees #2

This is the human condition like looking through the sunroof at the stars overhead late at night is feeling infinite,like sitting on rock banks that over look rippling-murky summer lakes is relief,like dark-lonesome-echoing bus rides in a strange city is the emptiness amidst the adventure,like regrettably drunken nights of chain smoking-falling flat on your face-shit out of luck and bleeding emotion out your pores is tragedy,
like a tank of gas is freedom, and a starry night and open road is hope.

and I stole that last line from a song
like i stole the right to feel this way
when I gave up,shut down, made a mockery of extremities, and threw out any of my sincerity,credit, or ability to self compose.

No Body Told You, But Everyone Knows

I want to take the ear rings that you've kept for all these years but will never wear
Because you think it's disgusting and barbaric to have piercings
And I want to wear them with pride through all these unnatural holes I've put in my body
Just to show you how civilized a girl can look with bit of surgical steel intertwined with her skin

I want to rip apart my skin and riddle my body with scar tissue
Because you've always taught me that the body is beautiful and should not be marred
And I want to destroy this beautiful thing you spent nine months creating
Just to show you how you've spent the last 18 years destroying what you've worked so hard to make ideal

I want to rip out all my hair at the follicle so that it never grows back
Because it's got me nothing but complements that have nothing to do with me
And I want to be bare headed and free of this detached beauty
Just to show you that I am more undeserving of any compliment than everyone else

I want to burn chunks of flesh out of my brain
Because memories are a vile thing
And I want to be free of them
Just to show you that you mean nothing to me anymore

But that would be a lie
But I want to be a liar
And have this fire swallow me whole
And leave nothing but my ashes



You Feel it Too

I feel submerged, as though suspended in water.
Tiny bubbles falling away from me, pouring out of my mouth and nose.
There's no point trying to hold them in, but sometimes I do anyways.
I keep them in until it feels like I'm going to burst,
then do it even longer, willing my lungs to explode.
But my body finds a way to save itself at my expense
and they always leave, victims of zero-gravity,
like astronauts off their leashes.
So I pinch my eyes together and I leave them too,
because nothing could be worse than watching them get further and further away
never knowing where they'll go when they hit the surface
or what will become of me when they stop.

This Week's Theme Is:

"What We Lost in the Fir


It keeps me awake

It's three weeks after the fact, and she can't quite get over what happened. She realizes that this is simply because she isn't entirely sure what happened, and this is what bothers her. She lays nervously in her bed, tossing and turning, a mind full of regrets and possible scenarios that would have been better than what she let happen, and possible scenarios that could have been much worse, which is why she let what happen continue in the first place. Everytime she tells someone the reaction is different:

"That sucks"
"I'm sorry that happened to you"
"Don't worry, it doesn't count"
"You're an idiot for putting yourself in that situation"
"Take legal action, charge him with rape."

And She wants so terribly to deny that last one. To throw up her arms and scream that that is not what is was at all.

"Did he know you didn't want to?"
"Did you say no?"

She just isn't sure. She knows that in all likelihood any sort of legal claim against him would be thrown out. How could she possibly say it's not what she wanted when she stayed there, and she lay there, and however many times she said no and pushed him out, she didn't push him away. Every single time she said no was canceled out by her disregard for her body, and for the situation, and by her blood alcohol content. Every single time was canceled out when she completely gave up on herself, and on trying to fight because she was too worried that if she fought him that he would've fought her back. Every single time was canceled out by when she, out of confusion and fear, agreed to be on top when he asked her to. In that one minute, even as she said, "No, it hurts," she became a willing participant. Or so she convinces herself, or tries to. It wasn't until she pulled herself away from him and began to cry uncontrollably that she realized the severity of the situation.

If that hadn't made her a willing participant, than the morning did. She woke up disgusted with herself, and who she was lying next to. She woke up with the same feeling of disgust that she had after her former boyfriend begged her to do with him what she just did with this man who was practically a stranger.

...at least he had the decency to ask her before he tried to put it in.... at least he had the decency to accept a "No" as "No."...

So in the morning she lay there, not leaving as she should have, because she did not want to go home, she did not want to move, but she did not want to stay. She couldn't bring herself to care enough for herself to stand up, and go. So when he finally woke up and her heart sank, and he rolled onto her, she simply closed her eyes, and turned her head, and tried her best not to cry. She made no real effort to stop him, and stop the pain, and stop anything until she was snapped into some sense and quietly said, "Derek stop, you need a condom."

But what was she to do through all that. She can make excuses for herself for letting it happen. What would anyone else do with a 6'7" drunk man on top of them bitting hard on their lip despite their pleas for him to stop that. What would anyone do when he replies, "No, you'll learn to like it."

It scared her.
It made her freeze.
It made her crawl outside of herself.
She didn't want to lose her virginity that night or to him.
She didn't want it to turn into a rape.
So she let just enough happen so that for many people as well as herself it's still up in the air if she did lose anything, or if it was anything to get police involved in.


This Week's Theme:

This Week's Theme is:
"Let's Give Credit Where Credit is Due, Now."


History of a Family

When you died, I didn't search for you.
I didn't ask when you'd be coming back
or why you'd died in the first place,
I just nodded my head and went to school.
I couldn't cry,
even after trying to force tears out
for the better part of a month.
The space between your death and funeral
seemed familiar, like the space between your eyes
or the span of your widest stretched-arms.
My friends asked me where I was,
and I told them "A funeral," and laughed.
They apologized. I apologized.
I'm sorry I didn't do more.
I'm sorry that upon hearing you'd gone,
I didn't run from room to room,
checking behind the curtains and throwing open the windows,
scanning the horizon for your charging body
as you ran madly away from us
and into the sun.


overdose on catalyst

crossing the highway in twelve steps.
almost blistered hips and sleeping tongue

i keep wondering what i am waiting for...bright lights to scratch the sun off my back,
to stop time from digesting this faith saturation

headlights in some small town
pushing everything right to the edge


Die Verwandlung

Let me tell you about my:
History of Constant Indecision and Reinvention
Misplaced Trust and Fair Weather Friends
Romantic Foley and Ugly Desperation
Impermanence and Isolation.
Metamorphosis and Rebirth
Abandonment of Apathy and Placation
Dedicated Mentors and Inspired Contemporaries

Desire for Something Better and Refusal to be Opiated.
Let me tell you about what it took to get here
and why it was all worth it.

This Week's Theme:

Let me tell you about my:
"Brief History"

need a light?