31.10.12

Oh, to explain.

The heaviness that I feel today.

29.10.12

Bile.

My stomach is in pain.

27.10.12

I was standing on the corner.

Waiting to cross the street.
A guy slows down to take a right.
He is in a truck.
And he is jerking off.
And I saw it.
And I was in shock.
And I started crying.
It fucking pissed me off.
After realizing these things.
I'm sick of disgusting sexual tendencies.
People are dirty.
And I'm fucking sick of being involved in that.

You fucking disgusting man, I saw you.
And I'm going to have that singed into my skull.
I don't want to remember that.

26.10.12

Spent some time.

With both Bryan and Bryce together.
And it was absolutely fine and normal.
And that's how it should be.

Things always balance out if your intentions are good.
Karma will be on your side.

25.10.12

In these moments.

I have the urge to confide in someone.
Maybe I will when Minnell and I are in bed.
And I can talk about it as I face the wall and cry.



I hate being a secret vaseline sac inside of a little human girl.

Oh.

It's because I've realized that some situations shouldn't have happened.
And I said no to them.
Some I just didn't say anything to.
I woke up to the shadow.
God, it fucking hurt.
If you're going to do it, don't make it hurt.
And I pushed the shadow.
And he came back as soon as my arms went down.
And hurt even more.
And I'd push, and he'd hurt harder.
What was wrong with me.
Why was I passed out naked on the couch.
Why couldn't I open my eyes.
Why couldn't I move my muscles.
Why was I a sac of sand.
The shadow left.
Another came.
And it was the same again.
I pushed the shadow, and he hurt me more each time.
The second shadow left.
And I called Naukie.
She was outside trying to hang herself.

I called the taxi man who I befriended.
And he gave me a free ride home.
As I cried and cried.
I screamed and cried.
He'd been driving me around for about a year then.
I wonder what it was like to watch me change from a sneaking out boarding school kid to....Jo.

I sat in the bath tub for two hours.
I never felt clean.
I scrubbed myself with the pumice stone.
Until my skin was red and raw.
And I payed for it.
Skin in pain to remind me that I can't scrub such things off.

Happened all too often, I would scrub myself.
I alway did that to attempt to rid myself of a dirty night.

I saw the shadow multiple times after.
He would smirk.
And I would feel like a Vaseline soaked sac.
I thought that it was my fault.
That I did that to myself.
I partially did.
But the shadows could have listened.
And been softer.

I saw the shadow after moving to Santa Cruz.
He apologized kind of.





But I've known that the shadows were wrong for a while.
There are many more shadows.
And I kind of feel really freaked out.
How many times I was molested as a child.
It was by other children, so I just thought it was all a funny story.

Hey, remember when you would have me suck your dick every day when I was six?
Hahaha, yeah, I hate counting Mississippis after that.

I.
It makes me feel so greasy.
It makes me understand why I would beat myself.
Why I would look in the mirror and feel like I had something people wanted to destroy.

And my mind has been molested.
The older kids that I spent time with.
Because everyone thought I was too weird.
And they just.
They just gave me this sexual mind frame at so young.
Back when I would use my skateboard to get around.

I've so been brainwashed twice.
By those gnarly programs.
With all of the doors locked.
And time out rooms where kids would scream blood curdling murder that I could never explain to you.
Screams with the tone of insanity.
And they destroy you.
I can't explain the mental abuse.
It only makes me angry now.
I don't believe what they told me how.
Grinding it into my skull.
As it soaks into my brain.

They also put a sexual mind frame on me.
They would tell me that I was so.
Before I even was too much so.
They made me afraid that I was too sexual.
And that I was the molester.
They kept me in a room by myself.
And I was only allowed to hang out in a common area by myself.
And out of the five people I was allowed to talk to compared to forty, my friends could only see me in twos.
Never alone.
I'll never forget that they told me I was a disease.
And that they had to protect other people from me.

WELL WHO PROTECTED ME, HUH?


I.
I kind of feel shocked right now.
I haven't talked to anyone.
I don't really want to.

It's a downer.


It's kind of frightening being out of a relationship.
Because sexual expeditions won't be as pure.
I just want to cleanse myself, but I can't erase these things.

Sleeping with Bryce has been nice, though.
He's always been a good friend.
And it's nice to talk after.
And he's not like the shadows at all.
He's worth the expedition.

I'm really bothered by these things.
I realized them when I started talking to Bryce about how girls would attack me sexually.
And how girls were my first sexual experiences.
And it wasn't much of my choice.

Why.

I am troubling myself so.
Remembering who I used to be makes me feel so dusty like I use to.

The disappointment.

That some friends showed me last night.
Had left me cold to them.
And they have been dropped.

No,

I don't want to wake.

Return of the insomnia.

My thoughts have caused an anxiety attack.

My heart is burning.

I can not sleep.







Since I broke up with Bryan, that friend group has forgotten me.
How pathetic and circumstantial those friendships must have been.
How small minded the sheep must be.


My mother has been texting me all night.
Talking about how she regrets she didn't raise me in Russia.
It's much more beautiful than this plain country.
She blames herself for my past mistakes.
I think she drank too much wine tonight and is acclimating her thoughts. She knows it's not her fault.
I've proved that I'm okay now.

24.10.12

I hate reading this.
It's like venom that keeps biting me in my sleep.
But the truth is all here.

I'm addicted to reading these posts.
They tripp me out.
My mind was so destroyed.
And I used to do anything to make myself bleed.
And the amount of overdoses I had.
I almost loved them in the end.
I never wanted to kill myself because there was some kind of second guessed dream in my head.
And I found that dream.

But I remember begging for some kind of surprise death to come to me.
I used to beat myself up.
And walk around with black eyes and bruised cheeks.
It's so confusing to do that to yourself.
I would just cry so hard,
I felt like I had to get rid of that chest pain.
And all of the evil energy inside.
And when I hit myself,
the biggest relief flew in.
I felt like I had been living.
With everyone walking around me.
Waiting to destroy me.
And give me those bruises.
And as I gave them to myself.
The weight off of everyone's shoulders flew.
They no longer had to show me how worthless I was.
I did it for them.
It felt insanely good.
Punching myself in the eye.
And this burst of light would come from the impact.

And then I would cry and kiss my left shoulder.
And apologize.
And tell myself that I didn't deserve it.
And that people degraded me because of their own poison.

And I was going to get a dot tattooed there on my shoulder.
My "I love you, I'm sorry" dot.
I got that dot recently.
It's on my back next to my carving that says "mauk"

I all of a sudden feel like a walking secret again.
Like no one knows who they're talking to.
they don't know the stories on here.
They look into my eyes,
And they only see the stories from the present.

No one should know, though.
No one should know these things.
I played guitar in front of everyone.








And that's what happens when I'm single.
No, I ain't a fool like you.
I've had my drunken times.
Body filled with wine.
Screaming at the world until I'm blind.
I've been sleeping in the gutter just fine.
But a blundering bus like you is sure to fall.
I'll try and catch you, but I can't hold it all.
Catch it in your mouth like a waterfall.
With out class.
Coming off so brass.
Coming off with the worst of sass.
Don't try and control me, just ask.

And I'm still fiending.
For that grinding feeling.
I've got a lot of love.
but not the type that I'm needing.

I'm sitting here,
scribbling electronically.
Trying to express what I feel in my body.
Some sort of anger.
Some sort of insane.
But as I write these bitchy things,
I still don't express my pain.

I think that it's from the permanent damage.
Of my historical past.
An infant on a rampage.
I was degraded so fast.
Recently, I've realized.
That there were a lot more molestations than had seemed.
I find them falling out of my mouth.
And the reactions are obscene.
And I've realized the moments of rape.
That I blamed on myself and the slopp.
And there was a train ran on me.
And though I stated my opposition,
No, they wouldn't stop.
And I remember the moment.
Naked and running away from five men.
Because I remember these memories rushing to me then,
And I was afraid of them.
All of these grasping hands flying at me in the air.
And I'm flashing back to the degradation.
And for the first time, I cared.


I get stuck in times.
Where I remember my past.
And the walking disease.
That wasn't supposed to last.

WELL PLEASE
PLEASE FUCK OFF AWAY FROM ME
I'M SICK OF BLEEDING OVER MY HISTORY
PUNCHING MYSELF BLACK EYES
TRYING TO SLEEP FOR JUST ONE TIME.


Hitch hiking.
Old men grinding since I was twelve.
A fuck scene
Too young to be clean.

I've realized that socializing with people older than me
Didn't teach me the right things too fast.
I grew up in grease
And swam through the trash.

Because being a weird one isn't accepted until we're found unique.
I was alone for twenty years.
Until I found Minnelli.
And everything was stabilized.
I knew why I found beauty in the dirty flies.
Only to recognize.
The truth that don't make a noise.
I am the power,
And the common folks are my toys.

No more destruction towards me
And no more continuation of the blood curdling history.
I've found my groovy beat.
I play it in the street.
Another thing to see.
When you're wondering about me.



23.10.12

I can't wait to receive what I have not received.

The last time was the first time.
I was fifteen.
And I forget his age, but he was much older.
Cody.
God, that fucking bastard does not deserve to be the last one to have done that to me.
And the first one.
I remember him.
So foolishly in love with me.
Calling and asking for me months after I was sent away.
I come back from the second session of brainwash behind bars.
And his eyes light up.
I remember being fucked like a god.
But he was no longer a god to me.

And I therefore threw him to the shits.
And partially destroyed him.
He married quickly after.

And I quickly did a lot of things after.
But I never let them touch me like that again.
Nonono.

After being with Bryan for a year,
I thought that it would be very nice.
And that he was finally the one who I felt comfortable with for such a thing.
But oh no, he didn't love me so.
He could never let go of the selfishness.
I'd choke and choke and choke.
Swimming in my spit for him.
Swallow and go to bed.


Nonono.
He didn't love me so.
No reciprocation inside of this flow.
But someone's about to give me head.
And I'm about to blow.



I'm too tired to make food.

I'm too tired to eat.

No, I'm not tired.
I'm lazy.

Why do I eat for a week straight.
And then stop eating for the rest of the month.


I won't complain.

21.10.12

Gosh, I have all the things to say.

I took thing blog off of private because I am no longer in a relationship.
And I no longer have to hide these things in order to maintain his pride.

People can know about these things if they stumble upon them.
Though many of them are horrible,
They happened, and that's reality.
I made the choice to follow through with those actions.
And though, I'd never repeat most of them,
They're there inside of me, and they're burned into my memory.




But hey!
Hey guys!
All is amazing at the moment.
I've got what I wanted.
I've got my woman, and a man.
My girlfriend love, Eliza Minnelli has moved in as he's moved out.
And I enjoy it much more.
The house stays clean.
We socialize every night.
I'v got great new people in my life, but I still love my other friends.

And one friend.
One friend has become  lust god.
And it's delicious.

I feel as if this relationship I was in.
Was one, amazing and very helpful.
Two, a sexless pain that I much deserved because of my raging childhood.

Mmmm MMMmmmm MMMMmmm,
And now that I have suffered this celibacy without my consent.
I can enjoy the freedom of sex gods.
But in a much more perfect way than before.
Because before, those were definitely not sex gods.

God, I have missed biting, and pulling, and scratching, and screaming.
I have missed having my mind blown.
I have missed it in the morning.
I have missed random texts that result in sleepovers.


And now that I'm not in a relationship,
I am constantly playing guitar.
My voice has gotten so much better, and it may have become established.
I found it!
I'm writing songs that I'm proud of.
Writing poems so often.
I'm drawing and doodling big doodles.
I'm getting back to my photo love.

I've got my power.
I've collected this handful of the most beautiful women in town.
And we smoked all the weed together.
We drink all the drinks together.
And we stomp all the stomps together.
I am so powerful,
And I found it in the vibes I get with these women.

I'm so young, and I have so much energy.
I'm going to do big things, I've felt it my whole life.
And that's partially why I allowed myself such a vile lifestyle three years ago.
I was worried that I belonged in the dumps,
But quickly, I realized that the dumps was only an experiment.


I'm still fascinated with prostitution,
cocaine,
drug wars,
drug addicts,
degraded homeless flesh mongrels,
pain,
blood,
death,
all of the morbid.
But I am not a part of it, no.


Except for Cocaine, I will always love her.


I'm entranced by the taboo.
I can't look away.
I want to photo it all.
I want to observe these creatures crawling in their own guts and degradation.
It looks so good on film.
It looks so good when I drop the paper into the developer,
And I see a squirrel with it's intestines coming out of it's mouth.

I'm a fucking art freak.
I knew it, I was born a weirdo.
And I thought that I would have to hold all of this back and become a slave to the man.
Nonono,
This is working out in my favour.
I've got some kind of concentrated good luck in my veins, baby.

I'm moving to New York the first week of January 2013.

In two and a half months, I will be where I am meant to strive.
A city so huge that I am an anonymous dot.
A dot that no one knows, and I can therefore do what I want.
A dot surrounded by many numb ice hearted robots.
And I will be powerful because I've got soul to explode.
Sure, I'm a bit afraid.
Change does that.
I've got queens waiting over there for me, though.

I've got dreams that are waiting to be found over there.
I've tapped Santa Cruz.

I need something much bigger.
Much gnarlier.
Filled with the taboo.




13.10.12

Fuck everyone.
The loneliness burns me. 
Bryce is somehow not a friend anymore. 
I'm not sure if that's me or him. 
But it's disappointing and painful. 

This morning I asked Bryan why he wouldn't cuddle with me. 
He said that it's weird. 


I am a lonely body. 
This thing I drag around with my soul. 
No one really cares much for it. 
It's been quite abused. 
Degraded. 
Used. 
And maybe that's why people don't want to touch me. 

Having sex with Bryan was horrible. 
A passionless fuck. 

I'm a rag doll. 
Soaked in rain. 
Crusted in dirt. 
A face that's faded with the wind. 

I feel that I am nothing again.