This of the tattoo. When it is irritated or you get bitten in the area surrounding the tattoo, it will often raise, or become dimensional. To the touch.
These are the kinds of feelings I have been having lately. Somehow I have found myself in a nice comfortable place with Fetus who has proven himself to be a nice place to rest my head at night.
He told me that me and Francis are Francis to each other, but when we are together are the collective energy of Francis. This would only make sense if you know us: the energy has a way of bouncing off of us to hit the unsuspecting masses in the face.
I am finally in a comfortable place now. I feel not like exploding in poems about confusion and solitude, but definitely more so to question WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND COULD VOTE FOR BUSH? I mean honestly, the man is an evil yet surprisingly stupid man who cannot really connect with the talent of explaining oneself without repeatedly using the same terms, yet not defining them EVER. George is dangerous much as a two-year old would be, making big mistakes he's not capable of answering, taking an ...
It seems that treacherous term "alcoholic" has taken a new front-seat to the people around me. I myself never understood it too much, that disregard for personal responsibility, and even more so, control to a substance or substances that take it away from you personally.
I do smoke pot, but on occasion, to lift some of that pain that I feel physically. I realize I never get as messed up as my friends namely because it removes some of the hard edges that I am assaulted with internally. The surgeries that I have had have left my insides ripped, cut and sewn back together haphazardly. As a result, there is a pain there that permeates, reverberates constantly. I do not feel normal as most people understand normal, mostly because I am not. It is a similar sensation to that "I don't remember what it feels like to feel good" that we all know about as we sit or lie next to toilets, having puked or eliminated said virus from our body. I feel that strangeness daily, aware of new ticks, tocks, pulsing pain and the fibers that fly across my vision as my heart throws clots from my valve. I don't ...
I love hanging out with this one-he takes the calm in me and rubs it, eliminating the stress.
I have a few more pictures from the night before I went brown, somewhere around August 16th. I would apologize for the size and obstruction on my friend's pages, but I only have a few (friends that is, on this), and people don't like reading much these days. It seems.
Anymore.
I plan on slamming that kid. I have never slammed before but I know I have the anger rage and softness to blow him off the stage in effigy. And my writing, though kind of mundane and introspective in observation here, is a little more raw and peeled to the touch normally.
