Oh, to be the Cream

FAKE SOUL

Red nail bed
orange door
White strings
of my neurons
firing at me
empty plastic
bottles green
or clear
horses hair
egg white
I had to crack you
to see it
along the River Avon.
Picture the
bridge orange
rust under
tennis shoes or
your hat
tucking itself
into gravity--
it stood you up
to leave you at it alone
lapping at
the shore

Picture the
ceiling white
dust under
the refrigerator
your face
falling off
after I shut
the door
picture the door
orange,
Wasn't it?
Picture the nail
beds red
like they weren't
Picture the telephone
green
like it wanted to be but couldn't
legs kicking over the railing
like you never wanted
No, all you ever wanted
was everything
You never had dreams
of bicycle wheels
for the 7 seconds of
le vol
or did you?
You always were the first
to journey to the end of the night so
lentement, désespérément
votre amour dans le cadre d'une vague
tranquillement.

and I don't know what it is about me
that I just can't keep still
I keep thinking someday I will make this all up to you
and maybe someday I will

I guess I'll never really be able to tell you how
sorry I am

...I'm Chuck Bass.

mi nombre

FOR CLARIFICATION

My name is J
pronounced J-A-Y
some people spell it J-A-I because they can't deal
with a letter
nobody has called me Jeanette since....
my 5th grade teacher. When I hear "Jeanette" I do not think it is me OR my name
because aside from technicalities it is NOT my name.

My name is J. Very simple.
That is all I have ever gone by and it is all I will ever go by. Spelling don't mean shit to me as long as JAY or J or JAI comes out your mouth. Don't think you're special by calling me Jeanette!!! Even when my mom is mad as shit as me she still hollers "JAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY"

I'm not trying to divorce my identity, or separate myself from my upbringing. I have always been called either J or Purvis. I have always introduced myself as such. It is not complicated. One syllable!!!

J

I wrote a love song in the key of C for you baby!

I'm tired of hearing all your dumb fucking stories and I'm tired of wasting time time time on sitting around FUCK little birds I want to kick them in their hollow boned asses and watch all their friendly fucking feathers go POOF into the wind FUCK FUCK FUCK I am so not in the mood to exist right now and everybody is annoying because my birthday was such a failure on every level because Jesus is a son-of-a-bitch who decided to punish me for all my crimes on that precise day, oh fuck me FUCK FUCK I never go to anybody when I'm down (just to the internet because I'm a giant, shit stained faggot) I never tell any body my stories and the one time I do people act like I'm such a fucking cry baby well fuck fuck fuck a turtle dove in the rectum with a used tampon you bitches I've been nothing but a goddamned drunken rainbow in the plotless saga of your life and you know I've smashed head fucking first into a giant brick wall when I actually admit I'm a depressive little fuck with a hardcore junkie love problem that has all but obliterated my body and I'm freaking the fuck out about it because I'm can literally feel my spinal fluid attempting to escape through my eyeballs and my body swelling in rebellion against my shoddy life choices to the point I think if someone was tender enough to touch me I might very well mushroom cloud into this sweltering hot new york summer and rain down my diseased organs all over Alphabet City where I want to line up all you paltry fucks on that abandoned dock by the WBB and drop kick you one at a time into the East River so for once in your goddamned life you would SHUT THE FUCK UP.

WHY IS THE SUBWAY SO DAMNED SCARY. WHY ARE THE BRIDGES SO DAMN SCARY. WHY DOES MY BRAIN TORTURE ME CONSTANTLY WITH PANIC ATTACKS THAT MAKE ME WANT TO DIE DIE DIE. WHY DIDN'T MY PARENTS EVER GET ME THAT DAMNED PONY. OH WHAAAAA SOMEONE GET ME A PLASTIC FAKE TITTIE SO I CAN SUCK ON IT AND SHUT MY CHAPPED AS FUCK PIE HOLE AND ACT LIKE A REAL HUMAN BEING INSTEAD OF THIS FAKE ALIVE WHISKEY STRUCK CURSE BULLLLLLSHIT FUCK THE UNIVERSE.

Born on a Train

Some roads are only seen at night
ghost roads -- nothing but neon signs.
But some nights the neon gas gets free
And turns into walking dead like me
And I've been making promises I know I'll never keep
One of these days I'm gonna leave you in your sleep
I'll have to go when the whistle blows --the whistle knows my name
Baby, I was born on a train.
Well I know that you were never young
And I know you probably won't get old
But honey no one's gonna hurt you anymore
And nobody's going to make you want to die again.
I'll go some cold and grey morning
And you won't remember anything
Some people don't believe in dying
But some of us don't believe in life

Magnetic Fields

The Charm of the Highway strip is still the most important album to me ever.