I believe that I am a male American citizen named Jamey Jean Blaze from California. I believe that at one time I was a self-proclaimed Christian on/off up to the age of twenty. In my opinion, that is a pretty late age to be so mal-cultured. It took me a while to ‘wake up’. I moved to San Jose with Holly Volly in mid 2012 while still doing the project GR!M B!ZNESS and working for Jump 4 Fun (a jumpy-house delivery company).

Let’s change the poem to this: I picture giving a gallon of blood just to get her number. My mind is that of a wretch, wrenching off my shoulders. Love is like a wreck, driving off the shoulder. God is like a hex, cursing those who know her. Finding he’s a catch, a canine barking orders. I miss-ogyny, so I mail male-order.

So there you have it. You are a female hipster named Danielle from Brentwood, CA listening to your inner voice reading this poem and you think, “This guy has no idea what he’s talking about.” The truth is, you know a lot; but you don’t know much more than I do on the subject of mass-implemented worldly harmony among humans before ‘destruction time’ has come. Do you know what I mean? Do you? I don’t truly believe that the human race will wipe itself out. I believe it will be an act of cosmic nature that does it; just as it did in the past. Keep this in mind: There is still a need for implemented peace on Earth.

God made one of us. I make love with us. God makes love with us, like the dough of a cookie does. God will love with us. God will fuck with us. I want fuck because.. Just because and that’s enough.

Man, who the fuck cares about being normal and attending church, going to a soccer game, being nice even when it’s fake to the point of keeping everyone in complacency. I hate safe mediocrity. You hate me, and that’s why you’d like to maintain my docility. “He’s unpredictable; don’t provoke him.” It is not an evil thing that I may be aware of some things that you are not. You don’t understand. You don’t want to. There is a wisdom beyond your convention. There is a knowledge beyond your dimension. I know this, only because I sought it out. I found it, far away from your comfort zone.

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I believe.

This demon, I’ve seen. This one I made up in my dreams. Daydreaming at night was a thing I did before sleep. Ten years old and I feared the sun setting. Is there a name for the fear of night time?

The one with the sprinkles, please. I point ‘there’ and you give me world peace: a disappointment to violent people. I love you forever in my dreams as I conjure the idea of our green wedding chairs. The hilltop can’t top us and our fictional memories. God can’t take my bouquet from me, even with his hand clawing heavily at me in the middle of the ceremony. I have earned my keep. I love God even when he hates me. Believe in something for a long time and you will carry the honor of our ignorant fathers. Anything; believe in anything. Anything will do.

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I see us all within the space where we see each other’s faces. Every single day we clock in to put our waste in. My thoughts are of your thoughts about you. Now my thoughts are about what your thoughts will be about me. We whine like babies within this literary dimension and involuntarily encourage a duplicate reciprocation.

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Chaptero two and manage to remove yourself from your struggles. Take pride in being great in it as you dance yourself through trouble. Is life really a rule book with a handful of pleasures to choose from?
You have made yourself from only a few heroes that you have found truthful. More. More.
Eat more of life. Consume MORE good times! Watch. Eye it. Look at it. It’s boring. Stare at it.
Stare. Talk to it. Why is it boring? Why not ask? Ask it. ASK IT WHY IT’S BORING! Listen. Quiet. Sounds like nothing……. Why? Why are you boring?

It speaks. From the receptor in your
own mind, it speaks. From another dimension, within a language you cannot speak, it leaps.
“You.” …….. What? What is that you’re saying? Are you really saying this? Really? What?
What did you say?
“You are it.”
I am….it….
Wait. I am…
“You are it.”
I am the boring one.
I am boring. I am supposed to make it good. I MAKE THINGS INTERESTING.

I wrestle with love until it keeps hurting afterward. God had me take a sworn oath to kill me if I swore too much. Love makes its own shirts until it sells enough. I love bugs until they bug too much. Life makes its own turns until it turns back up.

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If there is anything more to say to you, it is this: I love you.
Why? Because not loving you is boring. I wouldn’t be proud of not loving you. You should be loved, in my opinion. It is a beautiful world, where I am loving you. The future of this world has me loving you in all the different ways that I come up with as time demands it. I choose to change, though the love remains. The path changes (changes) while it also stays (stays the same) in existence. I love you blue today; I love you red tomorrow; but I’ll always love you. The love is never questioned of it’s existence, but of its appearance and form.

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