The Walk

Table lamp snow shade,
Turned on for its enemy,
Lighting the way of the cigarette,
It burns with the sting of alcohol,
Making things ever so enjoyable.

Star mirrored ponds,
Flicker with the slightest drop,
The blood is from a raven,
Dark in flight,
We run from ourselves.

Little brown outlines,
Around a delicate hand,
Caressing an ever-sharp blade,
Shimmering in the moonlight,
Illuminating the way home.

The Toast

These are the toasts for the wanderers
The men and women without a place
The ones who seek out the truth
Whether in their soul or on their path

This toast is for the searchers
Those who are in a constant hunt
May your goal always be but a step away,
And your eyes never grow dull

This toast is for the oracles
Those who can see more then they choose
May your path forever be seen,
And your feet never question your mind

This toast is for the warriors
Those who tend toward a good fight
May your journey tend toward battle,
And your sword never miss your mark

This toast is for the travelers
Those who wish to see the world
May your views constantly be exquisite,
And your path never lead to harm

This toast is for the poets
Those who harness the pen
May your script eternally tell of joys,
And your grief never entrap you

These are the toasts to the wanderers
The men and women without a place
May you ever be able to find the truth
And grace forever guide you on your path

Near Life Experiences

As I walk home it hits me. I suddenly feel as if I'm walking through sea of syrup. Breathing gets just as hard. Every breath I take only makes my legs move so slow. Everything is slow motion now, except my thoughts, and the surronding world. I'm being left behind, the world moves and I stand still, what is going on? Oh that’s right, this is life, it only happens once. And as I am stuck in this thick tar the rest of the world zooms by, wasteing all their preciuos breathes and heartbeats on some meaningless task or another. And here I am, wasting my time twice as fast, and tripping over myself because of it. This is our only chance, you can't go back. I've told myself hundreds of times, live to be alive. But why am I not doing it? How many people go through life without appriciating it? How many people have never seen death and walked away to live? Not nearly as many as should. When you are about to kill yourself and turn away, you gain another view of life. But it is still far better if something almost kills you. You can control yourself, you can't control fate. How would you react if you almost burned to death? How would you live if you knew you were about to die? Would you care? Only about things that truly deserved it. The fact is, not a lot of people know our mortality, and it kills them. Literally.

Photoliftus

I have nothing new to write, my senses are void of emotion. I am at the giant wall, once called photoliftus, but now it stands there, blank and hideous. As I confront this wall I am frightened, not by the shear expanses of it, but much more the void of details it creates. This is no ordinary wall, it has been known to eat artists who venture too close. And now here I am, on the edge, questioning all of my work before this point. This wall is not just an end, but it is the deciding point between art, and mechanical logic. On either side is the fruit of the imaginations of millions, but if you look closely you can see the faces of thousands of expressionless persons, perfectly content with their spot on the wall. No. I will not become one, even if it means losing my mind to keep my art, sacrifices will be made, but I will never sacrifice my freedom of thought.

The Big Deal

Have a good day all you mother fuckers! Why are we even hanging out in this dump still? We never did have a proper pad and you house certainly isn't much better. Anywho I was thinking we move this entire operation down to the warehouses, you know, the ones that have the murals on the side. Anyway once we get there we need to start dealing with some real shit. Not just the cookies we're used to. A big thing is we get rid of all these middle men, just up and make them "disappear", if you get what I mean. Take 'em for a nice long walk. Next we don't use any phones, every time you say "Bomb" or any of the like, a little light turns on somewhere. We have the numbers to make this go down, but we'll need fire power too. I can get us a shipment of Glocks and AKs, everyone keep a Glock on you and we're going to keep the AKs around the warehouse. We don't ever refer to each other or the base. You will only know your bothers, and sister, by the name of an animal of their choice, no one else will know this name, not family or friends, not even the girl you fuck every night. This shit will work, and if even a single one of you feels like screwing the rest of us over. I will personally remove you're kidneys, along with any other organs I see fit.

No, the other Logan

Nobody really knows me; there are so many different levels to me. Sure there are many people that think they know who I am, But does everyone know the Logan that feels like torturing people and sentencing them to slow death. Or the Logan who plays with kittens and other small fuzzy animals. Or even the Logan that wants to get so messed up he won't even remember how to walk. Sure there are all these Logans, but how many of them do you know? There are even more I haven’t found, or that I'm hiding from the world.

Today marks my two-month count down, I'm a little lost though. I still have to make contact with a lot of people and start pulling everything together. Right now I don't even have any of my travel visas set up. And it really looks like I won't be able to get them processed until I get over seas. This is definitely going to be an interesting trip. Full of new stuff, I'm going to learn a lot.

Death in Eyesight

An alternative for suicide. I don't plan on coming back; I've already begun thinking about all my stuff to give away. It all makes so much sense as of late. When I planned this trip I was suicidal, the trip is insanity, dangerous, and apparently I hope I don't make it. It's been an underlining emotion for way to long, dormant as to my perception. I never put it into my thoughts but it's always been there, hiding, trying to evade my detection, and the detection of others. I've just now seen it, through my depression, through my plans, through my thoughts. I've always said that I wanted to be gone for longer, who would have thought longer meant forever? I now see places in my trip where I will get killed for the money that I have, I will get killed for just the supplies you'll be able to recover off of my dead body. And does that scare me? Nope, I know these things and I'm not afraid because I've been wanting to die. This sounds horrible, but is it really that far off from the truth?

I need something to come back to, something to drive me through insanity and depression. But what do I have? Nothing. I feel like there is nothing for me. I don't know what there is.

French Toast

Chicken noodle, French poodle.
All my life I've been breathing, not bleeding.
Never having an end to call home, never having a place to call home.

Apple pie, people lie.
Forever will I be wandering, not waiting.
I don't care where we go, I don't know where we go.

Grilled steak, my mistake.
Eternity comes with a great ordeal, not order.
Sometimes I just want to be myself, sometimes I just want to kill myself.

Hot dog, floating log.
Hell is for all those bastards, not bathtubs.
War will help us love each other, war will help us destroy each other.