Lewd, Salacious, Pernicious, Lascivious World of Images. What is it that you want from us? You draw us in. = You draw a sin. You convince as you conceal. Sheer conspiracy, Grave contrivance, Grand contamination. You persuade as you pervert. Perturbed as we peruse, though still as still do we persist. We cannot stop, We mustn't, We shan't. Dear Computer, Lord of Availability, King of Instantaneous Gratification; God of Anything, Connection simple as the spell at the tips of our fingers. Followed by striking the Enter key. How funny, how fitting, how frightening, how fantastic, that Enter is just the same as Return. To Enter is To Return How ominous it is when one pauses for just a moment to think. Or to Ponder, as a brother so aptly put. If I may rearrange... Enter=enturR When we have finally Entered, We will have only just Returned. Funny that when we consider the word RETURN, we think of coming back to something. Why is this so? The prefix RE- means back, again, or anew. Return = To Rotate Again. Return = To Spin Back Return = To Become Anew. I think of some great wheel, turning, and returning, and returning, and returning, and returning, and returning, again, and again, forever and ever and ever, without fail, without break or interruption, without hesitation, halt, or any hindrance whatsoever. To spin is to return, infinitely. The great wheel is time. The Clock is this wheel, and it does spin on and on, turns again and again, carrying us immediately, inexorably forthe. And if we are turning, then we are returning. Where are we coming, or going back to? What might happen when finally have we RETURNED? If we are all ways entering, where will we be when we have finally ENTERED? What then will we be? I'm reminded, first of Devendra, then of another quote spoken by a brother. "I felt like it was my turn." How funny, how fitting, how frightening, how fantastic, that this is OUR TURN. This grand, ultimate returning, this holy rotation, this spin of infinity belongs TO US. Check this out. If it is HOURS, then it is OURS. These are Hours, Yes, these are Ours. The Hours are Ours. If you read that aloud, there is no distinction between these words twain. Because the WORD IS ONE. Spelt in different ways to rend our mind in two. Just as reading aloud is certainly allowed, and in fact, preferred, or at least from this writer, recommended. It's All Hour Turn. Olive Hour Turn. My poetry is literally a maze, full of abstract bends and rude advantages. I use the English Language to twist ideas into pictures from which I derive and devise secret and/or hidden meanings. Are you cereal? Oh yeah, super cereal. Also read as serial, which means, "appearing in a series of continuous parts at regular intervals." Think of Cheerio's as you pour them from the box, into the bowl. As they fall in that steady stream, like dry rain, each piece apparently identical, they settle and collect, building and filling untill you decide there is enough. Is there not serial in the bowl? Is this not a bowl of cereal? Are not these separate words peculiarly close together when one stops to ponder? Funny that this is not a joke. This is actually serious. Hahaha. There is also Sirius, but I'm through with that stint. Ah, you know, I think I'm through with this whole thing. I'll leave you with this... When IIIIIII was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse! Out of the corner of my eye! I turned to look, but it was gone, I cannot put my finger on it now, the child is grown, the dream is gone. IIIIIII-III-III! have become! Comfortably numb. *guitar*

There are a handful of girls who dance across the frayed edges of my mind; some dance so that I may see the way their bodies move, some dance only because they themselves love the movement, and so enjoy the music that my mind does make for them. There is Lindsay, who kissed me while we layed on the grass out back of the alternative highschool from which she graduated, she led me, and I followed, and a couple weeks later, she revealed that she had a boyfriend. His name is Juan, he is from Colombia, he lives down the street from her, in Denver. It's whatever, I'm broke anyway. She dances, and I recognize her beauty and abilities, but also do I see this strange fear, and sense this peculiar sense of abandonment, and confusion, and I accept it all, I deem her a friend, nothing more, and I am happy for her happiness, even if it is based upon a lie, because isn't most happiness? Then there is Amanda, she and I were together a number of years ago. A couple weeks back, I visited her at her duplex in Arvada. We drank a bottle of wine, began touching, feeling on the couch, we started to kiss, it was like driving through an old town I remembered driving through on some vacation in the distant past. Beware of feeding nostalgia, for it will in turn devour it's own master. So yeah, we had sex, she thanked me, we smoked a cigar, I slept on her couch, she in her bed, and I drove home the next morning. Still haven't seen her since then. Is it weird that I'm the one who feels used? Ah well, lapse of judgement on my part. Stupid. Whatever. In her, I sense an indefatigable laziness, a tireless zone of apathy, I sense her running away from the exact things she knows that she needs. I cleaned her apartment for her, because she is too butthurt at her roomate for making the mess. I said, It has to be done, so I'll do it. Such is Life, right? Then there is Heather, also an old girlfriend, my first real love, if I may. She also has a boyfriend, Keith, they're living together, working it out, Heather tells me, It's a process. I'm glad to say that there is no longer any sexual tension between the two of us, we overcame that around this time last year. I remember the snow on the ground outside her apartment, as we went out for cigarettes in between fiery drunken makeout sessions, while certain movies ran forgotten from the TV in her living room... Funny that I'll never see that apartment again. I never even had a chance to properly say goodbye. Se la vi... Whatever dawg... Anyway, the tension has left us, or rather we've decided to set it free, for both our sakes. Now we talk about this certain spiritual connection we share. Cheesyness aside, the shit is true. I can just feel the girl, when I'm with her, when I hear her voice, when I see her eyes, when we dive into deep conversation, it just all makes sense like nothing else in this crazy life can. There is just something, and she and I always try to keep up with eachother, keep one another updated on changes, but it's been a number of weeks since last I saw her, she keeps postponing, I'm cool with it, just wondering away... Alright, then there is Ivy. Ivy works with me at Hot Topic, she has beautiful read hair, and is very cute in a unique, intriguing kind of way. I've spoken with her a few times, there is a tangible chemistry, and I catch her eyes during our shifts, she smiles and I smile back, sometimes with raised eyebrows; tonight, she told me, "one of my favorite songs is the spin doctors song that goes, If you, like to call me baby, just go ahead now..." Honestly, I wouldn't mind calling her baby... but work has this policy that sales associates aren't allowed to hang out outside of the workplace. So I've been hesitant in attempting to beginning or inviting anything. But this Friday, I work with her alone for a few hours. We will see. She is quite nice. Then there's Emily Healey. Old friend from Highschool, ran into her at my brother's play at the highschool from which we both graduated in 09. We caught up a bit, I kinda always felt that she had a thing for me, I got her number, said that I would call her if I was ever down in denver. Still haven't contacted her, I could use a new friend, but my interest in Ivy is stronger than my interest in Emily, so I may be patient a little while longer. It's just a crowded, convoluted mess that runs around inside my head. Luckily, my home, my hands, my clothes, my dishes, my UA's, my teeth, my mirrors are all clean, and the money is rolling in steady as it ever has; I got a good thing going here by myself, but I just can't help but always keep my options open, and hold onto old loves, because I can't stand to see them vanish, fade, disappear, or God forbid, die. Nothing will die, it will only change. I just have to be careful of which lines I decide to cross. I have a feeling that I should only choose one. Too many crossings makes a tangled up mess, a knotty ruin, an insufferable headache of a situation. For now, I have my guitar, and my family, and my ideas. I'll be making money, and I'll be on the look out for developments. Keep ya posted.