jasmine: g.i. joe ninja flames kamakura!
me: since when are there g.i. joe ninjas?
me: that’s like barbie making middle class citizens
me: plus, g.i. joes are suppose to be
government propaganda to get children to
enlist in the army. i don’t think it’s
realistic for kids to grow up to be ninjas.
me: you can’t even sign up to be a ninja.

somedays i feel like i’m on an episode of the twilight zone. fucking cows that fly everywhere, babies with 5 legs and one beak, feathered bows who speak spanish. i disagree with all the fucking stuff that comes out of your mouth because 80% of it is bullshit and the other 20% is uneducated. i care for strangers more then i do my real friends. do you get an uneasy feeling when your ears start ringing? when i close my eyes at night i can see people looking back at me. i once fell from a swing but landed in a pit of needles and bled to death. that was the best dream of my life. when i was in grade six i use to idolize eric harris.

she stood in the middle of the darkened city streets with a soft white trench coat on. the flickering lamp post illuminated her body in a way i couldn't ignore. her light pink skirt floated gently away from her perfect knees. her skin as pale as ivory tiles and her lips as tender as silk. she fixed her pearl eyes on mine and allowed her hands to dangle by the sides of her shapely hips.

she slowly breathed in and out, the cold air forming around her mouth. i gently placed my arms around her neck, until her breathing became stagnant. ardently, i dropped her to the ground. her eyes lost their glaze and her snow white trench coat blackened with dirt. i gave a loose smile as her skin lost it's silky quality.

water rushed into her lungs like the seven seas, spilling in every cavity her body had. she gasped for any chance of air, only to make the muffled sounds of screaming. for a brief moment, she shut her eyes. all that bullshit about seeing your life flash before you? not an ounce of truth in it.

her eyes snapped back open. she saw a figure, a man no doubt, pressing her head further into the deep blue. was this her garden? yes, she could make out the sight of the peach trees she planted two summers ago. her grandmother set up a picnic for her just last weekend under that tree. but her once peaceful pool with calm waters had turned violent. kicking rapidly, she took in her last gulp. the man let go of her head as she rose to the surface, backside up. the garden resumed it's zen as she floated to the breeze of the august wind.

i'm wandering in a sea of nothing,

trapped in your face at the bottom of the ocean.

your body is an empty treasure chest,

and your heart is my devotion.