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Exits have Entrances. [09 Aug 2006|07:02pm]
[ mood | Sentient ]

Nearly a year later, I write in this book of repeated history. I'm back, different. The heat of this season has been nothing but fucking great. So recap this year:

-Hesler Villatoro and I started a band called, ANASTON. Pron.:[Anna-St-On] "To view clearly without disruption." Record Deal is chancing this month.
-NEW! friends OLD! friends.
-Decided what I want in the future.
-Read stories and compared them.
-Quit drinking and Smoking. (Except on Occasions?)
-Naive? (Experienced)

-I need a girlfriend. (not so much need but, want)

fucking recap of one whole year and only seven events. let me finish off a year's worth of wisdom.


As if I've cut myself away from the surface of this reality. I've shun my regrets and bathed them in melted steel. I can now vision these burdens as statues, to remember them as monuments, i could now see how bad I fucked up in my past life. I am weightless within my mind, I'm panning the inside out of my plaqued walls. I dose off into a zero gravity warfare of everlasting lust and passion, will i take the seriousness of consequence? I am falling into the sky, passing clouds, i shiver upon the cold thin layers of space, i watch the land mass drowned in sulfuric hydrogen pace its way on a revolving belt. I've come to this conclusion, as if I've cut myself away from the surface of this reality.. am I any different? from anyone?


"Life isn't too short, so I'm going to sleep."
--Robert Froste


KUDOS yalls.

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Resort [23 Oct 2005|12:35pm]
[ mood | Ciggarette Happy ]

Life has moved even slower than the last time I checked.
I try my best to keep tension at a minimum.
changes have appeared rapidly upon many of close.
so here we are, eyes contrast the possibilities.
fuck possibilities. i'm a writer bent on destruction.
each line consists of a different soul.

-this girl has kept me abroad and i miss the better times.
-antonym has been the basis of her steady mind.
-positive vibe has considered him an ally.
-she has a taste for glass, fiesty off the wall.
-composure has taken over his once ethered-self.
-hands through the wall and he still can't accept.
-rain has fallen mentally because of her.

metaphor:
"my soles aren't as soft as they say."


i move from home later on through the year.
i don't think i could be any different.
care to share your last words?

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Alternate [06 Sep 2005|11:53am]
[ mood | Altered by life ]

I have finally realized, you can't be real, you can't be fake. we are the mediocre subsides of an oath broken into compostition waiting to be rejuvinated by false truths, blank pictures, and troubled percussion. senses have failed the S.A.T. and kept the volume at a minimum. fuck, i count every second of the day waiting for night, so i could sleep and reflect what hasn't already happened yesterday. most of the time life is pointless but, faith has come to most, let me live another day, let good happen to my kin. bullshit it is, test your faith and show me a thunderbolt straight down on the black asphalt God. let me believe, our soul, what the fuck can we be, we are the ethers, the fucking stars right out of the sky, waiting to shoot like a 50 calibur, except our impacts will be greater than tenfold.

grow up i say to the immature deliquents that curse with profanity that still use the same lines as they did in jr. high. life is not about what social publicity stunt you star in, it's not the shoes you dress with to impress the ladies for what they're good for. look for some real beauty and take another look at the one's who sent their attention postal to hell, and isn't expecting a return-to-sender. show dynamics of how real people contact without kissing affection and love notes, vigor will only take you for granted, fuck that shit and throw a fucking allocution during dinner, don't be a bitch, don't hesitate to speak your mind, weak hearts tend to do that.

the real cold-hearted leave you lifeless and dead on the floor, soaking up the drool from the floor. give it some time to co-operate and leave planet earth for a day. spend time in consideration, fuck the world just for the moment. we have the average age of 70 until we supposedly die. fuck age, let go and make do.

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Night Drive [21 Aug 2005|03:33am]
[ mood | Tired of You ]

in manteca wondering where else i could've gone. 2am and i can't wait for home. to bottles of liquor, vodka and schnapps to be exact, in the trunk cloaked by my cloak and inside rubbery transportation. reflection has taken over the nothingness that we've accomplished coming here. alter tonight's events as if it were a dream on a train ride to nowhere. new people lead confusion and delusion to the nobody's of this dust blowing town. chased by authority and betrayed by the social links known as a female get-together. i spent my time thinking of the beginning of lies that was spit from they're saliva covered lips and poison tipped-tongues. i've taken time to discover the locals of the old-fashioned town and saw that much was lost in common. i melted upon the uprise of hunger in my stomach. ate shells of goodness and a thirst quenching stuffer. i picked scabs off of my ears after hearing to much of the devil's work. i didn't need to wash myself clean to know how things work out. i let it bleed, i let the words just keep coming cause i didn't give a shit to care for these backward stabbing bastards. attractive of course were these blonde beauties but, paticence wasn't worth the fucking pleasure. there's more to life than getting buzzed and getting laid to strangers you've known for 2 hours. as beautiful as it sounds, sleeping with a stranger is one of the best things i've ever thought of doing. ironic i am. as i type this, we're going 110mph in the highway covered by tail lights and night. i look up and the sky is yet again, lovely. the wind causes my face to go numb and i couldn't wish for something more nicer than now. life has turned around and shown it's back to me. what a bitch she is. what a bitch she can be. the numbing has now turned into blindness for i only see the moon throwing scared tissue at the earth, and stars act as spot lights for ants to keep existance at a basic. i stare at all these different cars and i wonder where the hell they would be going? a purpose for every joyride. the hills have occupied the otherside with terms used to make them slide once again with air. listening for another is just around the corner. for at least 10 minutes i talked to an up-close friend which i find a lovely person. compassion is the only thing she needs to please expectations. but of course, 1st encounters aren't always the best thing to describe others. it takes time to let the mind accept.

this piece was written on laptop:
August 21, 2005 from 2:12am to 2:46am


translation for this writing = take a second look, and make sure the two-face has two faces. don't take 1st impressions for granted since every person has their chance to change into the better person. make sure that if you're far gone from this kind of reality, pack up some material for the time being. surviving on your own is one of the hardships that a soul needs to attain to show that purity has ran through the veins. Don't let anything stop you, envy and pain can only be a burden for a while, not for the rest of your life.

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"Vagueness of the Crying Immaturity" [13 Aug 2005|11:13am]
[ mood | despelled ]

once again, i have made life vaguely familiar and more extended.

over time i gain'd an esteem upon which, is usually held down by commentary.

i can use perseverance to make atomies disappear without a trace.

traces that copied others patterns and ways of expressing.

they used that replica because they have no thought of their own.


being anti-social for the past 3 months has made me gain so much.
much more than petty talents that would appease others but a change.
i have taken life by the hair and beat it down to become my slave.
i have hurt life and i have made it suffer.
i saw through pain and sickness. i gained benefits from the negativities.
i learned to fade.


"i have found a place where all that sand can be lifted off my fucking eyes."

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secrecy? [07 Jul 2005|04:24am]
[ mood | writing silently ]

a third entry.

i have found it pretty amazing how she could keep secrecy and raise it to block any therapy trying to get a little happiness inside before i can sound alarms so loud, security guards will beat me to submission. submission with the acception of me not getting any information on what was on your mind that day. and i still wait and listen on most sentences that you've never finished. keeping dots hanging at the end of any conversation that could be screaming to cut off their shackles so that they can live with some bliss and some liquid to continue a false dream. that dream which i also wish to find you. find out about you. and your origin, why it is so confusing. you leave me speechless without a doubt and amaze my thoughts. you turn my corners and make my ideas twist and turn in their blanketed sand beds. my foundation and my book's chapters, you are in every page. for each page would have your name in each paragraph. and each paragraph would explain to you that this chapter is only about what defines her, for what this page is stalking her idealistic mind, beautiful face, topped with any imaginary supplement, enhancing her features, through mouth. kiss and talk. make up mistakes later and think of the present happenings. so at least, it could be written in some journal, some notebook, without this shield, this secrecy, that barracades this bond. asundering two.

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liquid fiend [04 Jul 2005|02:01am]
[ mood | stressed like fuck. ]

not many hours ago. not many at all, took place a scene that would change any mind of any accusations for a first time appearance. little did i know, especially those whose stories said that she was a psychological war path waiting to be opened up, was opened up to it's full potential.

unlocked by 40oz untold forgiveness and un-aged wine but for her case, age was the most of her troubles. delirium tremens would take over her vocal chords and would shatter any kindness that would leave as a breath in her mouth.

she cries and mourns upon saftey of stranger, when three seconds later i would become that stranger. and she would not care of anything after that. a long drive home would conclude such an ending...

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the ocean [30 Jun 2005|11:01am]
[ mood | waves hit my face. ]

santa cruz, a sick fucking place.

a lot of sand for my shoes to fill.

even more euphoria to take away any of my stress or depressions away.

floating away from any insanity.

i`m such a confusing person and still, i maintain a social life with others.

let me move.

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