why i chose writing

1. one day i was tripping on acid. i closed my eyes and i had a vision. i saw very clearly paper and a pen.

2. i was reading journals from years back. on said 'i hope i never stop writing'

3. i fell in love at first sight and for the first time in my life opened my heart to her via text. she wrote "Mario, that was beautiful"

4. one day i was feeling a rush of emotions, a flood of anger and yearning. i grabbed a pen a threw down what i felt on paper. i cried and it was a huge relief. i had never expressed myself before.

5. i have so much to say, but no-one wanted to hear it. even though it's super interesting. opinions, views on the world, talked about in ways no one else has ever communicated them to me.

6. i always loved to read, writing is the other half. they love each other, and i love them both.

7. i love writing and it engages my mind in a way nothing else ever has. it makes me alive, and happy.

8. all those things clicked and here i am

To Writing

i miss you dawg. i miss you babe. i miss you dearly and you're always so close but i'm across this chasm that makes me sleep and look the other way the second i'm awake even though you're everything i wanted ever and you've given me all i need. still i look the other, as if though facebook's fake titties could compare to your voluptuous heart and all natural boobs. for real though, Writing, your boobs are amazing. They're perfect. they're cool on my face when the night is hot, and just warm enough when it's too cool. when i've got a back itch in that one impossible spot you get your perfect nipple rock hard and bounce your boobs up and down, lightly grazing my back while you remove my itch. and still i look away. i don't know what to do but write. but shit's hard. i've tried doing you until i pass out. it lasted a week. i bet you loved it. i crashed and burned out though. i threw you away. but then i touched you today, to the beat of a song, and you made me feel so alive and full of potential and unstoppable. i've got tons to confess, but will not do it yet. ima baby step it darlin. cus you wore me the fuck out. can't go balls out all the time. it gets hot out there. but i'm sorry i left you for long. and i'm still here, eh :) ima have to learn to be open again. be free and untouched by that inner editor that cares that y'all out there will think i'm crazy. but i am, so who gives a flying buttruckus.

ok ima listen to music. and see how this rekindled thinky goes.

night night Writing.

i'm stuck to you like gravity. loves.

title best lef

sleepy and writing dunno why
watched the animatrix. we're all machines in adolescence, at that age we still rebel, thought, until the world's weights gets us down and on the outs. what does it take to break out of our caves? drugs. extreme demoralization. near death experiences. 
fuck pandora and their skip limit. quit playing shit i don't wanna hear on that station.

live for your love. so what's my love? can't find words fuck the birds for flying, they do that shit easy they were born for it, aren't hindered by ego and fear of falling, they don't get distracted by music tv sports and money and drugs and pussy and weed and biggie smalls and hennessy. they even know how to whistle and sing w no practice. those assholes.

anything's a start. goodnight.


is a powerful presence. to respond to someone's negativity is to verify it's existence. it gives attention to and acknowledges what was said. if someone insults you, don't be angry, or let it ride silently. leave them alone with their thoughts, give them nothing but your presence. don't smirk, laugh at, scowl, or begrudge them. we all know when we act foolishly and attack another, and look for their response as an excuse to continue our shady ways.

the Tao says that to be a person of integrity we must first surpass being a person of etiquette. what is etiquette? It's a polite response. it gives light to polished cookie-cutter responses and makes the rote shine. people have become accustomed to automatic responses to any questions, they fall back on a script they wear on their teeth like notecards shoved in their attention-seeking mouths. people are scared to shine and speak their mind. it begins with seeking approval from others, trying to make everyone happy by silencing our honest thoughts. we learn to hush our voice, tamper our soul to pamper others feelings. we wear etiquette in plastic smiles. 

i feel dull. my mind is shielding itself from letting bare and be. i don't know what the fuckt to say. might as well start with the truth, huh? so how do i feel? like i'm wearing a cement duncehat with a botox smile painted on it, and sad drooping eyes trying to smile. i napped four hours today and for what? i' left to study and write. and readings all been done. practice is hard. not hard to do but hard to start. it's like i'm trying to fuck an eager virgin and she plays so coy, makes me wait, and thing is i'm me and the girl, too. i want to get on my grind and write a story, poem, whatever it may be... but i hesitate. i look to other avenues. i look this way and that, not checking within. but my fingers rap n tap on these keys, so i'm not doing nothing for something. i'm making words pop where there once was white, and that's a start.

the cement will always be wet.

my first time speaking

Eric took so long to share! short speaber my ass. and Amy's friend Michelle gave quite the speech on Amy and hers life. Amy likes being the center of attention, she attracts it. She looked lovely tonight. Curves! Smile! lol. I was getting annoyed when Eric took so long, i was all "look at me, it's my night to be the center of attention< but that didn't last long, i knew it was my ego. I'm grateful there were man delays. It gave me time to calm my nerves. Once I started it wasn't hard. I spoke from my heart the best I could. I hope all the attention doesn't get to my head. It felt so freeing to have people come up afterwards ad give me a genuine congratulations. I feel uneasy at the prospect of me getting attention bc i think i can fall for it and it could be a weakness. like I could be manipulated if i got the right kind of attention from the wrong person. That happened w Paco. Reassurance must come from within. No? I don't know. it's best to seek and find the truth myself. I believe this because we all have different values, mine contradict those of many and are based on my life, my experiences that others don't have. My values must be mine, and if i believe them it must not be as a result of other people's opinions. I believe that God let's me know what I must when I'm ready. No one else can do this for me. There are moments of light where truth is shown and it's those moments that guide me when i'm astray. I know enough to know that a lot of things i believe are too radical to be accepted by the mast majority of people. It's those beliefs that guide my actions. that's why it's important for me to dance to my own drum, other ppl have different tunes that don't vibe w me, that won't let me dance. they'd rather i march. i don't know where to go with this. i need to learn to express my beliefs better. more accurately. less confusion. there must be order. logic. reason. clarity. i'll get it.

i Am

the torrent
the dam

the dragon's throat and threat
of song

the ox and oak
apollo's match and muscle

my bronco heart
the bloody knuckle

a ruckus and scythe
the terror of veils

the eye of the hunt
the grin of bullet teeth



i feel

like water bouncing off elastic leaves green fresh crisp mint chilled paper scraper lif and ice breath weath breath wreathe and listen and feel and chill and it's a pain a tough hurt a virgin glow and slow the woeful blasted craftsmen mass and lassos of feelsteel felt wels welt seln noetu oeunat e naomekpc.r a onoetud aenu

music. i'm thinking of the prettiest blonde in the world. she has eyes that torture sapphires, make em burn green, envy kryptonite ablaze. watch precious stone sweat blood, life tears from their perfect man-made cuts. they weep to rubies, whet red and wet they wail, they'll never capture what God's given her eyes.



I think

of God letting my sister die, and I in anger striking out with blades on my skin, sharp and deep enough to scar and cut tendon. I dream for more. I think of love, and of my love making my spurned love's desire flee back to me in jealousy. I dream of a life lived recklessly uncontrolled, saying what i want when i want how i want and no sugar coat but sex on my lips. i dream of freedom. of unrestraint, of saying in the middle of a get together that i'm leaving, and no just getting up to go, and when asked why telling the truth, saying I don't feel like being here any longer. and to hell with their feelings. life is too short to put up with bullshit. so why. why hold back. fear, it cramps truth and real desire.

The girl i like cares so much about ettiqueet. God please help me let go of all these fucking shakes and shackles the things that bleed me gray, steal my color back from their ruby lips and show my show me show me please how can i  let go. I want to fly and be me. myself my mario my truth. i don't want to sound nice and high pitched. i don't want to be nice i want to be me. reckless and wreckless fick it. God that's my real question. How can I let go of ettiquette. I'll do it. I promise. I'm willing to do what's asked of me. I'll do it I swear. I'll bleed for it. I'm yours.


2pac is on. I ain't mad atcha.

So you'll never be mad at me? If i'm willing to hurt i'm willing to grow. gotta take my lumps.

The real me is sober. He speaks his mind and defends his opinions. He doesn't hide behind silence when challenged. He laughs unashamed, and lives swinging. ropes. 

Fuck Etiquet. It shades the truth and conforms to other's ppls expectations by the vary nature of its' existence. I want to be a man who speaks his mind. People will always find a way to get angry. fuck em. how can i let go.by taking risks and going forth afraid and courageous.

this is the song God played for me right now on Pandora:

"Falling Slowly"
(originally by The Frames)

I don't know you but I want you all the more for that
Words fall through me and always fool me and I can't react
And games that never amount to more than they're meant
Will play themselves out

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You've made it now

Falling slowly eyes that know me and I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me and I'm painted black
You have suffered enough and warred with yourself
It's time that you won

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had the choice
You've made it now

Falling slowly sing your melody
I'll sing along


Now break me
remake me
shape me polished sharp
steel skin sharp enough to cut night-
light like a knife_
bow and sparrow and pierced

a minute ago

i bled sped speed the two hour block a road within me asea og uncensored though caught a small drought oh hell well maca milk and titty silk and slit and sit awd wait crate skate a feel like a blank waiting to sing on a canvas of black in yellow highlights where's the mlight skite white excuse my milk it tastes like stepped on silk like it has vholes swill and tattered battered under splats and meek crashes of a rainfall still acking to reed torrent of fire solvent selven elven gamble gimly simply simply oh really and i so shy i can't free write so what is it i'm doing screwing lewinge ah oh lorgy and birnd and burnt words curses and and and hearses and well what oh wess the deading tesssra babushka in the fog turns old blood gray from robin hood read it's a have, a thick maze of lost memories come back as clouds small enough and raw enough to taste like a shusi bluefish platter smatter every damn hour just tyep don't stop and ndo do learn from mistiypest pf nogeu deu fingers arre learning te to type a new speed on a layout not that old ad thought not new and owkward teenager the grey swan with marvelous wings and and ugly beak seek weak week willing to lift bro do you even fly< do you feel the words an as they fling from my tips a kyboard in typegraphy a lessymessy sckhnessy a tessywessy bissy busy busy chalrth shoulder knot won't let go of the strain i got from pushing hard a sword is dull buht on stone it can stnap or sharpen a harken a ouch it,s still there not so much impeding ans much as birthing discomfort ruport unpor a cohort silly billy willy nilly the free orchestra waves caves of sound it's a drum and a hum if guitar icicle picks and wickers and cicks kick sc clicks oh and am i free yet is ith s this wreiting free enought to let me go so i can open up my parachute and fly on down to the other side come on throught the door the key is turningnot sure of itself oh hell so it slows but it still goes the kangaroo said so a h oh boyzo th blown sewn roam and team and leam and hoary whiskers bathed in age and

cought sun like

diw on dawn

dawn on dew

a most warming a jue

fore you and me, too

thing1 thing2 sing a song tie your coffin blue and a shoeless caricature off the chart-s meh for repititition it'll leave once i'm throught with my mission as will concern a free byrd at last so so closte so so soon a boon and a loony maroon fivear erlnodcrpl' ;eudao

ah massa the funk reeks like eggs bathed in salt on a hungry dry tonge tongue small wall hell hall hee haw was the type of the lightminded mind of your so kind misdemeanor it scomps stom

slow down said he tho the brain surgeon on speed smoke some crack it's so wack replied she the maid who made up her face so no one would see how pretty shi is

what a shame that poor maid

to wear suck a facade

liberate through and to hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhetoeu/',rhiptup


freed mead weed seed this might be easier for a bit if i were drunk

nope can't do that alcohol is 


murda murda she wrote

but of freedom she sang

as she wrung her bones

brittle as toothpicks

picking a 


tttooo astnd a to ask of me is do not see you snothr.embua nteroptd rop let m teor alet the mind free lit it be let it be let it be let it be let it be  be be be be and and and a and and and and well well wellhellsmellouch the neck just a few minute seconds lef when compared to the vasntness of space light years away just a few mission stars hung afar million mission liken strike and bow and heave the cow and sleeve the sneeze and breath the blow inhale through your strong torso heretofor aknownotwherof the heavy dove sigh hes not worried like and old man who know everything will be ok, but habits are so tought to break, don't you seeL fac fat farce a cars scarce scars snta sat snate snake waken the krake en and mast ofd the snake and the lips of bliss silver and thrones of silk n satin n gold spider webs it glistens like

light on a stainless steel pen

my wires my ink my pen both my needle and fangs

my web is my truth

my parachut suite

toothless i'v grown but that's just old skin

fangs wrinkled sucked keratin flimsy as wax paper on sun

let em fall when it's time

my new ivory shines

screams like a horn

the enraged rhino storm







cobra spit

song of the swift

with a hiss like a 


be my guest be my


collision diction

decides for a time to spell

forth down tracked veins

like rails of cocain

digging rivulets into 

skin in the nose

has it rly

been so long since i've journaled. i feel so tame as opposed to five minutes ago. i had that rush, now i just want to cancel. i had a feeling and it's gone,  and i don't know where to find it. i'd be more free on paper and pen and no possibility of any eyes on me

swill kill bill shilly hill fuck suck luck strut walk n talk the bakery pot the boy has lost his beans and been whereto the snake pit looms and bits his little


random tandem tawdry laws a flaw revoked he spoke provoked and longs to drive a 

far car 

bars xanax lost bleak nighn shallow breaths and slaps to the face the koy awoke tho the relief of his homies. no amkulance had to be called. if theyhad to be called he'd be in trouble for almost dying. what the fuck?? that's how it gous, no? "you almost killed yourself, you asshole!


what a lif<

block a rock and cocksmack the lock the key is my mind the blank canvas the door and fourscore virgin whores the paint on which the bridesmaid weeps in velvet ink soft as a whistle in a yard of old rusted steel banging on thick wheels

keel heel been when since then i'm still here don't i give up no moro soro larrow arrow to the tgharth soneteb - antdei notecp -anoteradx -eh

sik simepl limeapple sour and red citric blood a flood of winced tears and minced pears and lairs of pearl cast greyblue in the shadow of the cavernous


scuffle skershuffle a muffled antelope breaks it's toe and the foe of the gator the proscastinator bathes in shaves of blowfish owfish sow and ow and how and row and so many many any zany inconsistencies an iths languiag uf ors and ours bower koward cach cache and blase and basic and primal the raw thrust of a canine through brother meat and little soft skulls like wet clay eggshells in the chimpannzees hunger for power and dominanc whence it came a shame to be lost for so gone the gree theenk free think free thought rambunctious frolicks stlil come out to play in nthe hay of the mind lkkk for the needle it pierces light lighk a moon a balloon free of heavy air the gravity of norms and torrid chords do coalesce and breaths do spark like alcohol and napalm caught and shook in gunpowedfilled cocacola rooms while kittens go boom and strike off the heasd of the laughing white fandalf gandalf was in my dream last night that's cool as fuck i think he was wearing floppy shorts and had a cane like a snarling branch, old as time's grump and hungry as lumps

it's all about rooomiiieeee


and his big fat sister nayooooommmmiii the two of them claims dat dey know meeeee

a roamie romie romieeeeee

beanie mannnnnnnnnnzingo the dingo plays bingo and the strings comuntached mustache bsathesuh aoethu'h,c.u 'iphhc'' h

it feels good to be black



Laundry day

yeah, still not feeling it on here.

i don't know what to write about.

i don't have an urge, really, to write about anything. at least not that i'm aware of.

i'm not gonna bust my ass to buy a car. ima bust my ass like normal, but not go after a third job just to have a car quicker. i only want one for sex, anyways. well, to have a girlfriend, lol. sex is just that bonus. \



sponsor isn't perfect, so I thought about dropping him.

that isn't very fair of me.

i shouldn't demand perfection of myself. i don't. time to treat others like i want myself to be treated.

with acceptance

my tat

All I know about anarchy is no governing force. No person or groups of people in charge. That's not enough to defend the tattoo on my wrist. I just realized today that such a tattoo can make things harder on myself. Many ppl see it and think chaos. That's no what i go for. They probs don't notice the heart. When i see a swastika i think Nazis, not a symbol originally meaning peace. At work i must hide it, and i have to do my learning, too, for when i have to defend my views. It's important to know history. i thought about getting it removed. If i'm ever given an ultimatum of 'lose tat or lose job' i'm losing the tat, and i'll have to wait until i'm my own boss to get it again.

we'll see what happens. i don't need added resistance in my journey towards happiness. i also don't think i should change for others. This isn't an ideal, judgement-free world. i need to remember that, and what the consequences are for swimming against society's current sea of Acceptable.

i may not have been hired if my employers saw my tat. i love the job. It's just right for me.

good night.

i started work today. Full time at the best butcher shop and deli in town. Snacking on Berkshire pork. Best beef, Kobe. All meats are free of hormones and antibiotics, and the animals were humanely raised. Full traceability, meaning my bosses can trace our meat to the exact animal, and know their parents. This place offers only top quality food. i love it here.

Full time means 30 more hours of work, and 30 less hours to nap relax rest read write sleep and workout. Meaning i will have to learn to be efficient. This will be fun.


Quality over quantity. Meaning I don't have to force myself to do a little bit of everything each day. There must bo so much time between things, it's inefficient. When I wake up I can make a commitment to just one thing. Like just read a book. Work out. Study. Write. Not wake up workout meditate work read for an hour study poetry for an hour do poetry hw for at least an hour and then journal for an hour. No way. It could be as simple as wake up, pray, work, workout. Or wake up, pray, work, read. That's so much more relaxing.

I like this idea.



i broke my fast to eat a Hershey's kiss. That's not bad at all. i just biked 20 miles to go to a meeting. No meeting, though, it was me and two other ppl who were having their own convo, no one made a significant effort towards making the meeting happen. i'm still proud of myself for making the ride over there. Yet i feel a little let down that after the kiss i ate a cookie... then a lil bit of popcorn. And then another cookie. i had 50 hours going. That's nothing to feel bad about, though, right? i worked out the last two days, and wasn't even planning on biking that far; i only did it bc i felt sick, and know meetings help. My roommates didn't wanna go so i went solo dolo. Why is it so hard to let go of the little slip ups and just be happy about what was actually done? i shouldn't have expected to finish the 3 days fasting perfectly. This must sound so lame. i hope i'm not humble-bragging. Fuck it, it's just perfectionist residue that hasn't yet been fully scrubbed off. No big deal. i used to feel worse over even more minor things, so that's a huge plus. Progress. Hurray.... :/


My excuse was i was gonna work on some poetry, and needed the carbs to help my brain. i didn't start yet. i might not. i decided to write on here instead. It's something.

dunno what to do. sleep?