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KleptoMessiah
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Name: Skye
Birthday: 9/3/1986
Gender: Male
Interests: I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder , chaos-especially activity that seems to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom... Rather than starting inside, I start outside and reach the mental through the physical.
You're all a bunch of fucking slaves!
Expertise: How can I set free anyone who doesn't have the guts to stand up alone and declare his own freedom? I think it's a lie – people claim they want to be free – everybody insists that freedom is what they want the most, the most sacred and precious thing a man can possess. But that's bullshit! People are terrified to be set free – they hold on to their chains. They fight anyone who tries to break those chains. It's their security…How can they expect me or anyone else to set them free if they don't really want to be free?
Occupation: Writer
Industry: Anarchist Government
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
12/17/2005
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| I don't know how long it's been since I've written here. I'm too lazy to check. But, here I am, spry and youthful, waiting for my longing to snap and kick in again. Waiting for the moment when I can say, again, fuck all of this, I'm taking a trip. Until then, get a job, collect some dough via some entry-level minimum wage place. I'm not really in school, but I start individual classes in Jan. Fuck around til... what? Until I get my shit together, where now, it's all over the fucking place. Listening to American Prayer, over and over and over and over and over, pass out from all of the intoxicant in my system. (Though, of course, there's never enough intoxicant there). Reading Catch-22, Frankenstein, Lullaby, 'Mastering Psychology', Algebra textbooks, countless screenplays, Koontx, Marx, King james bible, DIME spanish, and others. All at once. Maybe that's why my pork rind mind is so erratic. Or maybe I do things like this because... Wait. Why am I writing this? I could be writing something productive. Something meaningful, like I used to. Like I know I can. But, I'm bored. I have little to no subject matter. I've been thinking about recording my adventures to and in and from Philly, but... I don't know where to start. So much confusion, erratic behavior on everyone's parts, and, of course, my 'parts'. Yay sunshine/clouds. Prelim to Watery Weather. Not stoned right now. Tired, pissed off at some unknown something. My fngers are numb. I need to stop biting my nails. Nails. Like Nail Bunny. We were going to do that. Feed the fucker for a day or two, and then nail him to a wall. Somewhere. Jhonen's alright, but I need some more original sadistic endeavors to embark on. I need something to embark on, period. Toast me lightly, babe. I'm delicate pastry. Skye Echo David Chase | | |
| grip my wrist and we'll fly off me and you in a magazine-beauty race Clay and Stone, mold me, into a statue Mine is yours, and you'll get what's coming to you This blanket seems cold without a warm body. Useless against winter rain. Sweet melody of a chastity belt, Wears out the wearer, uses the user. Staring at the moon, ponder the ocean. This foggy window will be cleared. Move my hand closer to yours, but anxiety is a south to south reaction. Never contact. longing induced by longing. Bitten nails. Teaching a lesson, I reach round your back, leaving a trace. Electric. you sway on your feet, look at my eyes, bloodshot and stoned. look past my lies. Forever rejected, what do you all know about rainwater collected in a coffee mug? What do you all know about sharing a bottle of rum, frozen and plasticine, with the One from your dreams? what do you know about a quiet beach? Skye Echo David Chase | | |
| you wrap some oily weaved baskets with 18% alcohol, and somebody yearns for an intoxicant. You, you violated these secret laws, but a group of classy citizens will dance the night away, square-twirling to Lopez and Santana lollipops keep time, metronome, maintenance. An asshole says on a dare, CUNT, and is promptly released. A jail of encrusted leather and premature ejaculation kills esteem. Lie on that golden field, and feel the waves of euphoria, my soft hand tracing a trance on your neck, your cheek. Fingers brushing your belly button, the contentedness is eternal. Lost experience, I desire eternal intoxication. I sit and talk of plans, and I can't bring myself to utter, How are you? Wrapped and orgasmic, I think I love the rain. Where's my maternal instincts? Burned and melted, walking lonely, can't find Columbus street. St. Can a peppermint throw me in jail? Corruption of the Morals of a Minor? instantaneous influence. Lie on the edge of a midnight, soaked with me, and caress oblivion. Morphine Child. Exstacy does scar you. Enjoy and love my opiate dreams. Skye Echo David Chase | | |
| the moon rising, like so much love lost tapered emotions, a spider's web wrapped in gold clinging and shining and spry Throw a party, subliminal twists Greed is bottled up, charity sweats through the pores, are you my new gOD? Experiences revisited, and howl to the generation L. i can't mask my my admiration of a jailed cellular compost pile. Can't test that buzzkill, love, fire can't pull resin from such a brown paper bag, and so much repetition: Sorry, I'm sappho, sorry, I'm taken, sorry, I'm double-dipping already. Sparking,, tingling admonitions. Rising from bouts of loneliness and a pass for sickening treacle, soft Goatze's caramels. I'm taken, I'm involved, i've consumed my doubt and replaced, pulled from flavor-infused beauty. I thought this was ink. You are Such a Drip of Decaf. Skye Echo David Chase | | |
| Spent the night. Not cold, a few tokes, but her touch still lingering, keeps me warm. Fall asleep rather easily, and a short rest is refreshing. Dazed and groggy upon awakening, I come to shortly. Found a ten dollar bill in my pocket. Might purchase some marijuana. I leave Thursday. | | |
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