He held my hand

He held my hand

With four fingers across my palm

As a sign of love

But to my great misfortune

I was unable to grasp


In the ways of love, I’m weak.

For me, love has been only been lust with jealousy and ownership, and insecurity. Love and death are the same. Its unwanted, and it will destroy you until you are nothing. Love appeals to the lowest instincts, and makes you desperate for survival. The erotic life makes you say yes and the love life makes you say no. Love humiliates you. How do you say yes when you mean no and vice versa? In the ways of love, I’m weak.


You are memories all  almost eroded. we were indivisible. Now you are only a ghost  whom I forgot to get rid of their remains. It breaks my heart that we moved on and that I’ve left you alone. We were completely inseparable, but we both comprehend that our life is over. I have doubts that its what either of us truly wanted. Still can’t believe I left you. You’ve always understood, better than I, that I’m just a man like you. Those lovers were flesh and blood, and then gone. We were so helplessly devoted. It breaks my heart that my carelessness forced your departure.

disassociate myself from my body

I have a difficult time accepting compliments about my appearance. Its not a body image issue in terms of beauty social construction. I like to disassociate myself from my body. The majority of my sexual interactions have been nonconsensual and it has made me accept that I will probably be in that situation again at some point of my life. I don’t consider my body as part of myself because I need some kind of self defense mechanism. Distance myself from things that have happened in my life by convincing myself that they have only happened to my body and not me. I know its not healthy thought pattern, but its the only thing that works. Im still fighting for peace. I don’t know if that makes any sense to any one.

My job makes me hate myself

I lost it on a costumer last night after she pitched a fit about her $12.98 pants not being on sale and not being able to use a coupon. After nicely repeatedly saying that I was sorry and couldn’t do it, while she cursed me out, I lost it. I said something like this ( i was too pissed to remember every thing I said).

“Thats it. Im done with you. You’re a fucking bitch. Last week I sold over $16k of shit and I made $180, which is about 1% of what I sold. Thats fucking disgusting and Im not even at the bottom of the commodity chain. The 10 year old in Bangladesh that made these pants make on average $1 an hour and you are bitching about a $12 pant. Go fuck yourself.”

Macys made over 29 billion dollars last year and the people that make the clothing make an estimate of $4,000 a year. Thats fucked. When you refuse to buy something at full price, you don’t hurt Macy’s; you cause lay offs & pay cuts to people that produce, traffic, and sell the products.

That is why I don’t give a shit that costumers are pissed that items are not on sale or can’t use a coupon. You are buying something you don’t need and you are getting it very cheap, but not as cheap as you want it.
Why can’t you stop to think why you are really mad? The problem isn’t with me, it isn’t with you, its not even the company’s coupon/ sale policy. The problem is the insatiable and inane life style of mass consumption in order to demonstrate high value of our identity expression in attempt to fill voids within our emotional and spiritual well being. Our life style constructed by capitalism, with help from mainstream media, is destroying ourselves and the planet.

My job makes me want to kill myself and Im working 10 hours today (rant over).

My heart keeps bending. When will it break?

After almost 8 years, the longest and most rewarding relationship I’ve ever had may be coming to an end. It has honestly been the most fulfilling thing in my life, but its slowly decaying over the last 2 years. I’m trying really hard to intellectualize the entire situation, but it still fucking hurts. How do I move on when I know its not caused by a lack of love, but a disconnect of lifestyle needs?

There is so much of my life that wouldn’t be possible without him. We edit each other’s writing. We make music and films together. We go on trips and take photographs together. I know that our creative journey together is not over, but I think our romantic journey is over. How do I end one without compromising the other? How am I supposed to suppress my love for this man, but remain the same level of intimacy necessary to keep creating great work with him? How am I going to move on and meet someone else if he still is the most important person in my life? What if the reconstruction of our relationship changes the work? What if we become uninspired? I know I want him in my life for its remainder. But how is that possible?

I owe this man a lot. He was my only friend for a very long time. We went through drug abuse, self-injury, depression, suicide, family deaths, pregnancy scares, identity crisis, and sexual shame. We got through it because we had each other. I wouldn’t know who I am as an artist if it wasn’t for his encouragement. I wouldn’t be as confident without his faith in me. I wouldn’t know how to be unashamed about my queerness. How the hell am I going to meet someone who celebrates my queerness like he does? Who else will love my filthiness? I love the taste of his cum. I love fucking in nature & in public. I love his drag queen & how he loves my drag king. I love the way he finds my body & mind equally sexy. I love that we can go to the bathroom in front of each other, ingest each other’s bodily fluids, pick each other’s noses, and pick bugs out of our hair. I love that we can try every taboo without shame. I don’t think I will find any one that understands me this well again. He gives me the security I need to be confident about being me. He gives me an unrestricted environment to be my authentic self. I wish he could give me what I need and so does he. We both know he can’t and it kills us.

I know some people never meet any one that they connect with so deeply and I should be grateful. I am. I’ve never dreamed any one would love me at all. I had love for 8 years in an emotionally, creatively, intellectually, spiritually, and sexually fulfilling relationship with a partner that respects me as an equal. How many people can say that?

I know I need to accept that its over, and have the courage to end it on good terms, but I can’t. It hurts too much to let go. I’m clinging to who I thought was going to be my partner through out life. I’m not ready to turn him into an ambiguous loss. I know the parameters of our relationship and his commitment issue changing is a dream, but it’s my dream. I’m not ready to give it up just yet.

Maybe we can still work this out.

My shame weighs more than yours.

My shame weighs more than yours. It’s the reason I keep turning up at your door. But, I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hate myself. Make love to me like I’m better than the horrible things I’ve done. Like the deaths I’ve profited from isn’t me. Like I’m forgiven for stealing change from junkies’ O.D jeans. Forgiven for turning emergencies into tragedies. Make me feel like I’m always as beautiful as I am asleep. I know I’m worthy of this from all the rooftops I’ve stood on without jumping.

I’m your revolving door.

I’m just turned off. I should just move on. Can’t believe you act like this. Saying what I should never felt so good. Didn’t know I could walk away like this. Do you think I’m selfish, proving I can live far away from you? I can’t handle the distance that stands between us. We promised we were made for each other, but we ended up living in the different worlds. You were so good to me before, but I feel like you hate me. You use my love like a revolving door. You never seem sure. It’s just not enough any more. I gave you the world without a return. It was always on your terms and now I’m just hurt. But I’ll come crawling back to you, begging outside your door. I will forget all the times I’ve cried on my bedroom floor. I always feel more than you want me too. I try to pull you up, but you push me down. There’s a place in my heart that beats for only you so how did you get so confused about loving me?

Nothing behind it

I don’t mean to be cruel or abandon, but I have been here too many times before. Don’t tell me I said forever cause we both know I’m not that foolish. I’m not the one with two tatted sleeves looking for permanence. I can’t listen to this stupid talk. Not when there’s nothing behind it; those three stupid words with nothing behind it. Don’t tell me, “We’re in this together.” He had mistaken my hiatus as the same as his surrender. I could never be happy being someone’s reason for living or dying. I kiss his forehead to say goodbye. I can feel his heads collapsing from the weight of juggling the dichotomy of the selflessness of living and the selfishness of suicide. His fists, his tears, his pitiful apologies have been preparing me to leave over these last few years. Those three stupid words are nothing. His eyes are empty. He bores me. I needed to relive every minute and keep the demons away. I needed to relive every minute, and avoid all the mistakes. But I can’t. All I could do is say, “I like you. I like you? I liked you. I liked you?” I handed back his gun, turned my back and put my hands over my ears, as he put the barrel in his mouth. This scene was too familiar, our weekend ritual, but I was surprised that he actually went through with it this time. I called 9ll, lit a cigarette, and walked. He probably thought I was going to follow. He believed in those three stupid words to the end. But there wasn’t any thing behind it. You can’t love someone who becomes a chore.

……. Just wanted it to stop.

You won’t be one of those people.

Catastrophe is just around the corner.

Since I was a child my deepest wish was to have all my wishes gratified.

But sometimes I’m not at all sure what those wishes are that I hope to have gratified.

Nobody can expect his or her wishes to be gratified.

It is a catastrophe to give up on such dreams.

Some people figure out ways to turn unhappiness to their advantage. You won’t be one of those people.

People are alone in small apartments, surrounded by personal items.

Sometimes, pictures on the wall, but they are alone