a free ride inside my diseased mind.

Archive for the month “August, 2012”

EYE part 3


EYE part 2


Heres the deal, for years I have been trying to write about my life, in a comic book format, however I kept getting in the way. I this, I that, it was getting to narci…

ssistic, without really trying to be. So ART the bastard god that he is, transformed me one day into EYE. a weird blue rectangular creature with one large Eye Ball, and a life time supply of sexual emotional blue balls, ha. Eye replaced the I. I only know myself to write about. My life is depressing and odd enough that it provides unyielding mounds of perpetual content. My life is my best and truest ART. … Also drawing a blue rectangle with a googly eye is much easier than say actually learning how to draw. That minor little detail always got in my way. So sit back and enjoy watching EYEs miserable life unfold in front of your, I’s.


a tent that was once loved
my profile picture banishes me to pity and self loathing
a crucified disciple
cast into deep thought and self doubt
plummeting to the bowels of extinguished distinguishment
forced to watch re-runs of fun while drinking cans of carbonated memories
just part of the job requirements
ART sprinkles me with just enough happy moments to regret breathing

feeding on the rhine of excitement and overdue library books with snot on the pages
crusted mucoid jewels of past lives
we can burn plastic lawn chairs
and roast veggie wieners on them
accumulate mass amounts of keno tickets and use them as loin clothes
dance naked in the plastic metallic fire

while gouging our metallic tooth fillings out
and using them as radio transmitters to the forged frog gods
great pools of inner sanctum
frothing with filth and metabolic residue
consume vast amounts of testicular cancer
bought in cargo stock at walmart
stop me if im making sense
keeping up with the jonzes

trade yer broken dildo in for credit on a sex bike
we could go to an island
i have car
find beach, no bears or big kittty cats’
fuck like a mongloid with diaper rash
eat forbidden potatoes
search 4 a church with no ghod……….


laying in a layer of hell




everything is great if you cant relate

painting feels lonelier than any other activity i could imagine or not imagine.

doing crunches until eye vomit up omelete juice.

living on dryer lint has lost its charm

thinking of selling my left arm

need an I.V. hooked up 2 my balls just to drain the demon semon.

stuck on sex

living in pink wingo wango land

growing fur all over my right hand.

time is not a friend.

Its an enemy

an anemone

from the


painting in bed

cuz im 2 sick and lonely 2 move.

selling my horrible existence for a cheap ride…

carbonated memory loss

wake up

just to check

your sexual



go back to sleep

and dream about

greek cheese cakes


lost tax receipts.

ive got a lot of issues

and im not talking

sports illustrated


national geographic.

volumes of problems

turned up to 10


do it all over again.

im a fan of the fan

and i eat more spinach

than Popeye the  sailor man.

dump some olive oil in your ear.

inject carbonated

memory loss

with an

ink dropper



harpoon spear.

salt water

salt water

close that door
have a smoke on the floor
pour a coat of pain
on that
mad again
playing the piano
on the keyboard
a note for you
ive seen
a world in the future
rusted cans
rusted dimes
never was to good at reading
my own mind
always writting in between those lines
more sugar in my daydreams
you wear the dress
i’ll soak my eyes
love and
never could figure out
how to tie a tie
before the day i die.
its a mad lovers
falling apart at the seems.

gooblah gah

a strange word that comes to mind
gooblah gah
a term used for
me in replace of u.
trading identities like a pack
of nudie cards
stolen and
rubbed smooth from some fathers
rumpus room.
a green chair
with an avalanche of porno mags
spilling on the wet cement
in a grade 3 friends
grandmas basement.

we stayed up all night looking
drinking cheap fizzly pop
and i hate the word pop
well only when its used in reference to
soft drinks that is
drank so much his nose bled it did
good god who rigged this rig.

its the mind
my mind
please pay no mind
i am trying to erase my memories of the daily grind
possibly possibly free
possibly , impossibly


what the hell is a multi purpose room used for any way?
multi purposes i guess.
and the rumpus room
what the hell is that
i wonder.
an animal perhaps
one so sick and fat
it cant lick its own back.
well what ever it is
it reminds me of cheap wood grained walls,
and stuffed painted fish,
mounted to unnatural landscapes
pool tables
bought at garage sales
with soda stains on them.

and most of all,
it reminds me
of a dirty postcard;
sent from
someone’s friend
on vacation in foreign lands
hidden behind a bottle of caruba rum
the corner hangs out
just enough
to catch a curious kids attention
and erase
all homosexual thoughts
that may exist
in its small
and delicate mind.

the honolulu girl
naked on a beach in hawaii,
well just the breasts are bare
nice and brown.
a note on the back says
“i love this town.”

too lazy to piss

You know you have issues when you find it to much of a chore to drag your beer soaked carcass off the soiled bed to go to the washroom. Laying there in pain, sharp icicle piss needles jabbing away at your bladder. Having to piss so bad your breath smells like a urinal mint. Thoughts in the back of your head wondering if you can do permanent damage by not draining your bladder. Wondering if you could fit into a childs diaper because adult diapers would be to embarrassing  to purchase.  Actually getting mad at your body for doing its job. However long you hold out you can never win the race. It will either start leaking out or you will succumb to defeat, a slow plodding barefooted walk to the toilet kinda defeat.

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