freestyle sauce

Freestyle
style thats free
no loaded gun
just loaded words
an army of me
I've got no paper stack
I dont care cuz thats whack
save your numbers
for the runners
of this empty rabbit hat
i roll like dough
listen to old radio
fix a lunch of lost souls
and feed trash to hoes
you dont need to impress
what the masses confess
coffins of mass destruction
too much is too less
written words of a crime
wont change within time
trapped just like the rest of us
can you spare me a dime?
capsizing commodiities and a fragrance free meal
keep those hands in your pocket-
trust they make you a deal
credit combustion and fly it for real
sick to my stomach
but cash in on the steal

telling the teller

Intro

This is an introduction to my thoughts before i begin a series of stories i've only verbally shared with friends and insight i want to share with the world. writing has always been a huge passion as well as inspiring others to let it all fucking go. It is all complex and serious as much as it is simple and funny.

Why?

In my experience in particular i've come to learn the art of growing up fast since the beginning of me. Opening my mental and emotional arms to any given process or learning tool to the extent that my expectations would end up hurting me.

"Ouch! what the hell?"

Not to say that all results have been negative of course, but one only needs so many experiences to realize something must change. After you've been burned by something you touched, you didnt go back and touch it again to see if the same thing happened. Okay, maybe you did. you just HAD to try it again to see if the outcome would be different. fair enough.

My existential side of me wont give up the ghost question "why?" and other related questions that provide a suitable answer that allows the change to happen.

My question will always be the same. The answers come in cryptic forms of communication and often times quite vague. I actually really despise vagueness and thus far have realized my incredible disposition for impatience. If it isn't clear, then what is the point? why waste time? why!?

I'm the crazy one. Or am i?

My choices in life have led me through this path. I wasn't really given the opportunity to have an American A+ lifestyle since birth. but regardless of my given identity in this culture, i relate to being a minority. I had a shitty childhood with no real guidelines and poor example of good and fair human interaction; i didnt realize until later on that anger and aggression didnt actually attain anything. Neither does begging, acts of "love", kind conversations of peace and so forth. So in any given case ive been stuck believing its me against you and if i dont get what i want, im simply going to die. in a very basic instinctive way, i play the roll of a human trying to survive, but how i play that roll is that heart of the matter. Logic and emotion are two things at war inside of me, things that sometimes i feel i have not control over at all. But i DO want control over my life.

I want things to make sense! how preposterous, i know. how did i get here?

Victim of fiction: science or unexplainable chaos?

What is really existing versus what i want to play out in my head and can i change it all? This is why i coined my name "Victim of fiction" through my coming of age years. I felt like everything was a science fiction movie playing right before my eyes; How relevant "Alice in Wonderland" has always been to me as a lost person stuck in a dream world.

My reality tends to not match up with others, or whatever is actually happening, so in the end i'm pushed off my magical fucking carpet ride and into the middle of traffic. Mind bending alterations to life perpetuate a lonely existence. But so does the latter. How do you win?

Have the experiences of my life taught me new things or just displayed reflections of myself on repeat? for whatever the "reason" or "purpose" that i've just subjected myself to, i believe the key to getting into your mental ride is to perpetuate change in order to drive away.

I hear generalizations about age and gender and other associated "black and white" answers to people's problems, though i don't like "grey" areas (like i said, too vague).

I like the idea that people who have issues or problems are less a scientific equation based on typical human patterns, and more so an individual significant attachment to behaviors based on how they were raised. No one person is the same, but many can relate.

Life is for living

I carry out my life based on my experiences because, of course, everything is so delicately entangled into to "who i am". I don't enjoy believing that my past will reoccur, but when you burn yourself on something, you dont want to do it again after the third time. You knew very well that the second time was still the same.

Who i am as an individual can be fake or real and since i only have one life it is pointless to be so conservative. Boring! I enjoy exposing myself as is, which is typically perceived by everyone i know as eccentric. Im balls to the wall after all, that is the style i am most attracted to.

if YOU haven't really figured that out and let loose by the first quarter century of your life, then i believe you are in for a big explosion.

Let me state the obvious here.

whether you are in the past, present, or future, we as a human interactive project cannot allow expectations of outcomes to determine our happiness. quite simple in theory, but not in practice. Especially since in American culture we've been raised with a wealth of expectations.

The point to life is connection. why else are we here? i mean, honestly. (see, another why question).

Evidently, humans are supposed to connect to or with each other in more ways than just copulation. Shocking! but more often than not it is short lived, there is conflict, confusion, insanity, miscommunication and the general fact that people have given up. Im attached to my desire to connect with people but my experiences have been limited and never allowed a strong bond with anyone. Not even my parents or blood related family. This is my process in letting go of expectation, of people, of attachment to things that i believed were supposed to happen and the stories i share are examples of how i got here.

...and what a happy accident that was.

I absolutely love this term. probably because i've experienced this a lot recently.

Surprise!

Just when you are least expecting it, the best thing to happen that makes your day worthwhile suddenly lands ho.

spontaneously stumbling (or in my case creeping) upon something abstract, ironic or oddly reflecting what i had in mind.

I am always in flux; creating something new out of something old. Finding time to borrow.

anyways...lets get back to irony!

p.s. I love this city.

wicked dream status

My mind races with the daily paces and faces created by visual content processed in particles particularly known to me and placed in a space where only i go.

I have all these fucking ideas one after another. They cross over like a collage and all i want to do is share my inner experience to inspire and motivate everyone to perpetuate involvement as opposed to being apathetic and lazy. I envision a heightened sense of awareness filling us and we will all become enlightened; All the pain leaves us and we love each other. we expose each other to every possible human chemical reaction we possess and we virtually explode.

I dream so much i get lost. Or maybe I just become increasingly more profound. reality is a mistake. Or is it? conclusion: confusion.

When i put into context all my creative visuals and dreams of life and death, i wonder if maybe this is what its like to be human.

a wrath of morbid thoughts crawl and creep like soulless creatures who want to eat the nutrition out of my brain.

I generally experience or long for a state of stabililty and certainty. It is only naturally given that after layers of mind trauma provokes insanity and consistent substance abuse.

Religion has pressed an identity that heaven merits such promise, and ultimately Hell is something i want to avoid.

My emotions take on various degrees of positive and negative integrity. Right now im in a push to learn, progress, and express my process in order to form better connections with other "humans". I hold the belief that "It isn't the end of the world, it's the beginning of discovery".

But i'm fully aware that for all I know i am already dead.

My brain is busy: everything applies.

Information overload

“caution!: memory almost full”

There isn't enough space on my hard drive. This is ultimately a sign from the universe that this also applies to my life on different scales. So much so that it repeatedly pops up even when i click the “ok” button. I guess its really not ok.

There isn't enough space in my brain to retain a fraction of the cost in such a perspective that actually means i should think again. Freedom of thought-blocking= projecting agreements with compromise and following through with a process.

There isn't enough space in my emotional memory, as if that even needed to be mentioned. It's like a heart mending vending machine with special attractive devices to slice your inner demise while recycling past experience grab-bags offering the slightest care package of bandages.

There isn't enough space in my room when I reflect on full length situations and everything is in dissarrayy spelled wrong. I only failed in college a couple times. And then i dropped out.

“Login failed”

“Try again?”

occupation: brain operator

So many things have been said and done. why do it again? pleasure seeking vitality crossed with senseless mixed signals and anxiety driven thought processes. I love it, I hate it. im ultimately in the boat clashing with contradictory wind gusts. im always in a boat. and all i want is a fucking burrito.
dont forget about the world around you. whats important. the fact that i am an artist? i am not here to be a perfect visual model for anyone or anything to follow. just someone who cares, someone who listens and loves. even when i hate. i write to get it out and i feel like who the fuck cares. seriously. tell me about your bullshit problems when freedom-fighters are locked away for speaking truths. animals are being tortured the earth is being raped. im screaming inside as stimulants travel my bloodstream and withdrawing from lack of education. clamor fills the room and im hungry with distraction.Hello? Goodbye! I mean what did you expect?Be patient, one step at a time. What am i doing today? reading, writing, thinking too much. dont get so excited. its just temporary. we will die. so get it together and maybe you can make something of yourself. so much to know and seemingly so little time. when it goes by so quickly i am pressed. fucking fabulous. im tired of waiting. i keep forgetting. memories can wait. Story of my life. anything else? oh yeah, I Can't get a job. What is a universal language to someone who is blind or deaf? if they can't see or hear my work or read my words. There is a party in my mind, there always is. I want to invite people But everyone is fucking sleeping. The young minds who will one day be our future are going to pick up the slack or destroy everything inevitably. If there is a purpose for me in this world, how do i operate? is it my responsibility to educate the ignorant minds, those walking around like headless ticking timebombs? im not here to be eloquent. ok maybe a little. but ultimately its important to get my point across, and not to so much to be poetic.I think that only through the art of speaking or writing, the world will change for the better.

Revision of antonyms: a study of semantics.

The bridges were nigh and I felt a cold breeze. The waves were churning into themselves while the salted crest of the skyline sun was setting and I became immortal while I envisioned your melting arms passing through me like a supplemented submarine. Perhaps that was my only wish. I was crashing into abyss passages colored gold when the phase of the moon hit sanctuary purple, hazing far off distances with common misplaced verbs and a touch of awkward tension.

“Why are you so far?” I asked, and the only answer you could come up with was because “That's just how I feel”.

When the distance itself is hard to bare I remember that forget how incredibly lonely I am when I am with you.

There tends to be this dash of sensation as I picture your monotone devolvement placing its inner thigh on my listening glands.

Thats right, “I’m listening” I would say, and you obviously knew what I meant, but glanced over your shoulder in a 45 degree angle and whispered sweet chilling words of nothing. Perplexed by the great empty moment, I sat patiently, peacefully in my own retention.

Wind is like the virtue of a spoiled child, wild in craze and familiar with solidarity once it has been soothed by ambiguity; Still distraught by confusion as I checked the time, and the stars became almost lucid, I was anxious and headed nowhere fast. As I got up and rightfully walked away, your blank wave expression emulsified with the intensity of your dull narrative spirit. I felt so warm in my discretion; like a fat kid indulging his blob of cake batter appetite. After that, the immediate sickness of overeating while secretly wanting to vomit. I wanted to purge your very existence and flush you down the toilet of mutually exclusive metaphors. Chances are, I’ve just been gloriously fucked by perpetual signs of the times. Never play russian roulette with pixilated pretenses of comprehension. Trivial pursuits in all that cross-images consistency of happiness attains certain liberties and freedoms.

This time it left a sour taste in my conscious afterthought that this was all just a fettered fleeting friction of baffling concepts that made a moist morning feel like a desert in the winter.