to feathers

okay. last night sucked. some smackhead piece of shit kicked me out of my spot, so I had to move. I woke up at one point, heard no music, looked for my phone, couldn't find it... and I wasn't quite awake enough to know what was going on, but it was there. and I have two phones. last month, I bought a little twenty dollar piece of shit android just to have music on, something to listen to for my sanity and to keep the world out. then, beginning of this month, I tried to get my windows phone replaced that's tied to my cricket account that I've been paying for months now without being able to use, and that monthly bill, and the stupidity and greed of my bank over that bill, have been putting me three hundred bucks in the hole every month, so I stopped putting any cash on my bank card, spent all my cash this month, leaving me more fucked because I can't get a new debit card without an address, apparently banks don't like travelers.

but that wasn't intentional what I said last night, that was my ptsd talking, and it's hard to explain. but that's what ptsd does to the human heart. it's made me very hateful, and I don't like being that way. but I found the phone that plays my music, I was texting on my windows phone that actually makes calls and crap, the little android doesn't do shit except wifi, and I kind of like it that way.

now, to answer your other two questions. the first one is a long story. my wife was the only woman I ever met who was capable of leaping right through my tank armor into my heart and staying there. she didn't care about how I was dressed, or that I had no money to give, she just genuinely found me interesting, fascinating, amazing, and constantly told me that. she couldn't get enough of me, she was just curious about me, who I was, everything I told her she loved hearing, and I don't know if it was just because she was so young, or naïve, or uncorrupted by such a fucked world, I don't know, but she loved me more than I ever expected to get out of this world that hates me so much.

so when you say you got past my tank armor, I guess after her, I kind of let it down, but it's still up with all my enflamed people issues and ptsd from traveling the past year, and being homeless the past two years, and having my life repeatedly destroyed the past three years... I guess once in a while, another brain is curious enough to find their way in, but most just get overwhelmed and find their way back out. I don't know. I don't know why no one can find me valuable enough, they all just seem to want money, and no real friendship anymore. and if I ask for friendship, I'm asking too much, and what can I give in return. I do still have a thick armor, but if you were curious enough to find your way in, I guess you can answer that question. I don't consciously let it down, or put it up, I'm just desperately trying to be social so I can get an idea accomplished, but I am the one who's truly antisocial, but I'm having to communicate with a species that is beyond antisocial, and in complete denial of it, and I can't figure that part out. they call me antisocial, and I proudly claim to be, but people on facebook are elitist scum, greedy reptilian fascist clowns and clones and selfish products selling themselves shamelessly and expecting to be surrounded by more valuable products, and I see this barrel of retarded fish hanging onto a fantasy, a dream, a pyramid of lies and illusions, and unhealthy delusions, and I can't fit that ugly piece of death meat into my heart anymore, without feeling like mcdonald's is personally trying to choke the life out of me. I'm very hateful of humanity at this point in their distraction, but when distraction changes to development, my third eye already pictures having a lot more faith, love, and smiles in those around me. but how do I stop attracting psychotics and start attracting psychedelics, when psychedelics seem more fearful than deer in a quiet forest. I'm befuddled and completely lost, and it's not easy at this strange spot in my life, to find ways to communicate and get myself the things I need just to function at the same time, so when I get overloaded by both, I don't do well, and I sound like an asshole. I do apologize.

your second question. no, you're not a cockroach. intelligent people I talk to, and am brave enough to share these rants with, I'm assuming that they'll find this shit pouring out of my mouth humourous, and agree with it, because I know they feel the same way, but I don't know if it's just my artistic, poetic, passionate choice of words, or what, but they just do not seem to understand, it rarely translates, and people always get pissed off at the smallest words in my rant, instead of reading between the lines and seeing the humour in it, and that confuses the shit out of my heart, and really fucking hurts on a daily basis, when people don't laff at my jokes, that simple little act of something wrong in nature, and I feel like exploding. people constantly get bent out of shape over the word 'you' in my rants. and I think to myself, shouldn't people who are intelligent enough, naturally assume I don't mean them, I'm not talking about them, no, of course you're excluded from the general consensus or scope of aim and random spray of my rants, and I can prove it with a simple checklist, because those are the things I'm aiming at, so if you don't:

a: smoke crack,
b: smoke meth,
c: shoot heroin,
d: make bad decisions in life,
e: act irresponsibly,
f: fuck your life away,
g: blame society for willingly being the problem,

then guess what, survey says you're okay, you're in the audience of the jerry springer show, you're not on the stage, and guess what else, for a limited time only, it's not a Gallagher show, so you're safe from spraying watermelons as well! jeepers, mom, guess what's behind door number three?

so yes, I'm trying to say for the billionth time, this is my special brand of dark, deadly sarcasm, toxic hateful wordsmithing and alien speech from a very verbally talented, creative poet who has had his talents dragged through the fucking proverbial primordial pond scum goo pool of shit and tar and bad drugs and worse decisions by people who just clearly do not give a heapin' load of horse turds and goat scrunts and other gifted things that could make excellent death metal song titles or even band names, it's just sarcasm, but it's seen as offensive, and it says on my twitter, I am truly sorry to offend those I like in this world, but I'm built to offend everyone, and I'm waiting for someone to read my twitter and understand that, and approach me as a warm soul, saying 'you can't hurt me with your words, I accept you as you are'.

because it even says on my twitter, and I'm rather proud of this one, because it's kept me alive in some bad situations...

'whoever said 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me', obviously never met me'.

my wife loved that line, but not as much as she loved this one...

yeah, I'm nutty. I dance naked in the rayne and laff at raynebows.

there is a lot of love in my heart, radiating out, pouring out in tears and poems, and I'm waiting for it to stop being so misunderstood and start being loved for the painful truth that it is.

I'm sorry I don't speak to others expectations, but I like speaking my tongue, it's comfortable to me to not conform to what everyone else does, I like being unique, and I'm not going to stop, no matter who it hurts, because I've been hurt so much, that that's all that seems to be pouring out of me lately, which is why I need to get it out of me, into a book, and move on, I want the past out of my life.

I hope that answers your questions. I'm out of time. talk to you in a bit. thank you again.