Some type of a circle

/
I'm beyond lost now
I could say it's dark but it's more than that
I have quiet periods
I see colors
I'm high
But sometimes I'm in too much pain
It's all there
As ugly as I can be
I am beautiful
I hate this
But this is life
I can't seem to embrace this truth
But unfortunately truth eventually embraces us all
I didn't think I could still stand
But my legs work
Today I got up and walked
I'm not here but I am somewhere
It's not the end
I'm back again
It's some type of a circle

Closing moss

/
Restless jabs into dark unknown 
They don't pay well
Not for years if any
Words that penetrate are outlawed
Or ignored
The interest in things unlawful 
The pain removal for the masses
You chose this hell
But you've forgotten 
The forgetting is double bladed
Mercy
Words of redemption 
Don't beleive it
No one leaves
The end takes a lifetime 
And that lifetime leaves scars
It all disintegrates into the first

The world erupts

/
Truth has consequences
Fear brings a safety
But it's not truth
Truth brings a danger
The whole world erupts with truth
Like a shattered glass window
The fractions will never be the same
I'm not that guy
The guy inside me is changing
I'm somehow different
What I'm coming to realize is it's not me
I'm not me
It was a dream
Am I an intruder?
This waking moment has sent me into an unrest
I'm unsure
Nothing from before is true
I just hold on to these stories
But they're not real
There is really nothing to hold on to
This pain in my back stops the movement
Movement is my only grace
My movement through space has taken a turn
The motion has ceased
This is also a dream
It doesn't stop and that's what will erupt your world

Too much

/
My situation is ridiculous. Roommates. Marriage. Kids. Craziness.

I'm sharing a bed with four people. I'm like Charlie and the chocolate factory.

My smiles per hour are slowing down. My roommate just walked in at 3:47am. He's way behind in rent.

These are probably thoughts meant for private, oh well. Should I write a poem? I've gone a little off the reservation.

Morning has come
And my feelings the same
Numb to the touch
Of my outer view game
Fools have a walk
That I might have taken
To bring to the surface
And fully awaken
The monsters inside
That I've ran from at night
But it's dreams that won't stop
The harder the fight
Cut from a cloth
That's truly it's own
Connect to the thought
That we're not just alone
I reached out my hand
The world did speak
My craziness gone
My inherited meek

Awgggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

/
Just words. More come but they're not strung together correctly. Into the sink hole. The trying really kills you. People hate a trier. But you've got to try right? You've got to try to do it without trying and that takes a lot of trying. My mind is now erupting. Frozen. More thoughts but they're like rambling clouds of dust that disappear the second I touch them. I'm so far from funny right now. Maybe so far that it's funny? If I'm 180 degrees from funny then maybe all I have to do is make a move and I'll be closer.

I can't stand the thought of people right now. What kind of sentence is that?

Your walk distracts me
My hearing has gone
My words want free

Comedy as of 2013

/
Comedy for me now. It keeps changing and that's how it should be. When you get to the point where you know your material, so much so that you don't care about your material. When you're free. When you're funny. I see glimpses of this. Become free and become yourself. This only happens after years of prison. Years of discipline. Years of indiscipline. You can't just do it. It has to be given to you from the comedy God's. Make it right with the God's. Give them your sacrifice. The God's hold the key. Don't fuck with God! Funny is serious if you want the real shit. 

The meaning exists yet stays unknown

/
Time spent dreaming is just a start
Look at the meaning, it's miles apart
But something comes together
It's more than the sadness
It's black but it's light
And it can lead to madness
But I'm being careful
My men have tied me to the bow
I see all the beauty
And am blind to what's foul
And my mouth still tastes what it sees
From the eyes of my heart and it
Hangs from the trees
And it's fire from the spark is still lit
I'm here
I still have my fire
I can't leave
I'm green but it's changing
The whole thing is different
With causes that spill
Into other areas that before were unknown
Telling
It's telling
Someone is speaking
I try to stay quiet
I'm into the realm
I'm no longer waiting
Or rhyming
As you can now tell
It's in the moments like these
They all coexist
I can stay in the garden of choosing
But even that's not entirely true
And all dreams must have a lie to begin with
Mine is the same
And so now I'm back to my old rhyming game

Darkness is me

/

I judge other comics. They say that you are what you judge. I judge this comic for being unfunny. Why? Why do I care? Because I'm scared. I look at other comics and I hate them. Why do I hate them so much? I hate that they have no self awareness. I hate that they're delusional. I'm that guy. I look at other comics and say what is that guy even doing here? He doesn't belong here. I'm scared. I'm scared that I don't belong here. I am what I judge.

Does that mean that I should stop judging? Fuck. Don't you have to judge to know what you like? Don't you have to judge people and make a decision. You see what they are doing and you see what path they are headed on and you judge that. You analyze the person and you judge what path they are on. Then you decide if you want to end up where they are. And then you take that path or you get the fuck off that path because you don't want to bang your head against the wall like that unfunny fucking comic is doing. You see that guy who doesn't write and it fucking scares you. So you fucking write. Then you see the guy who fucking writes and he still sucks. And that is fucking scary. There's nothing scarier than than saying to yourself that you would be funny if you just wrote more but then when you do write and you're even less funny. That's some scary shit. When you stop procrastinating and you start doing the work and you still suck. Where are you then? You used to have an excuse, you didn't write.

You don't have anything now. All you have is you. And you just aren't any good. That's a fucking dark place. Where do you go then? What do you do when you've done everthing you can do and you still suck? That's when you step into the darkness. When you realize you're all alone. You're fucked. You have no one and you have nothing. What do you do then? This is the comic.

My thing

/
I want to create. I want to write.

Love
Connection
Hurt
Loss
Learning
Brothers
Let downs
Lost hopes
Depths of craziness
Friends
Laughter
Fun
Funny
Dad
Dreams
The wolf
The deer
The morning
Nothing
Drugs
Mullets
Fights
Losing
Reading
Staying busy
Church
Fucking
My dick
The vagina
God
Lesbos
Strategy
Alliances
Plans
Heartache
Seriousness
Taste
Learning curves
Big league
Anger hidden
Anger risen
Comparing
Coincidence
Heroes
Gurus
Books
Liars
Bullshitters
Girlfriends
Masturbation fantasies
Homes
Women
Stealing
Skateboarding
Bankie
Bully threatening
Vandalism
Veganism
City people are better
Unsolicited advice
Food stamps
Fear of work
Fear of death
Hugs
I hate dad
The fire inside
Before god
The devil
Light as a feather
The video game
4th deminsional double
Ecankar
Tp-ing a house
Racism
Sexism
Religion Rapes you
Don't think
Panic
The end of the world
Death
Different kinds
Sleep
Eating and over eating
Gratitude
The astral plane
Best friends cheating
The problem with free is it costs a lot

I'm nervous

/
I'm fucking nervous. What the fuck did I get myself into? An hour? Headlining?

Fuck

There's over 100 people on my guest list but I thing some people on the facebook invites say yes with no intention of going. It's a late show. What if no one comes? What if my mind goes blank? Who the fuck do I think I am?

I'm not sure who I am. Who cares. Who's anyone? Who cares?

I'll be fine.

I'm cool.

Don't bother me.

I don't care if I play for one person, I'm going to rock this place!!!!!!!!