ahhh the sound of silence.

Col. Kurtz
-The horror.... The horror...-



I find that most of the time I am surrounded by the shadiest of people in the shadiest of places. Yap.









dancing in the neon glow of sin city and it endless army of festering idiots.

I fear the masses eating at their buffet's and gambling their children's future away.
The heat and the grit and the dirt and the filth just clings onto you in the desert city of Las Vegas.
Our children find pure boredom in the 115 degree heat.
And take to pure horror show for enjoyment.
The days of ding dong ditch are over my friends.
Kermit the frog is irrelevant.
Our toys are all broken and bleached by the unforgiving sun.
I look out into the desert and imagine rolling blue waves of the California ocean.
Not a chance.
I am stuck here in hell.
The hell that spawned Wayne Newton and Star Wars slut machines.
And no that isn't a mistake... I did say "Slut" machines.
Sleep well world as I promise to sweat my balls off in my lonely small roomed apartment soon.




Luv

Captain PirateFace

A trip down memory lane.

Speaking like I am all dramatic and shit...
on a rainy day.

This was after my wife left me.

Come on Gina let's get this divorce stuff done yo!

BTW Bitchez

Battles is fooking amazing!


Also, I am on Twitter now (or as I like to call it...the fall of mankind)

Add me for my tweets, just look me up as CaptPirateFace


Peace Love and Herpes.

wait that ain't right.

It took the Death of Michael Jackson to lure me out...

So, first and foremost the "King of Pop" is dead.

sniffle.

sniffle.

boo-fucking-hoo.


I just can't get upset when a pedophile dies.
And probably died due to drug abuse.
(which if I am wrong... my bad... but he is still a dead pedophile.)












So how is all of my two or three readers doing these days.
I am right now without a summer job and scared as shit for my terrible money situation.

otherwise I will say for those close to me...
I have been living clean.

I have been drinking a little bit but hey nobody is perfect.


I have been thinking of giving up my writing of poetry.
I still write it now but have been thinking about what the point is anymore.
Nobody ever says "Hey, John write anything new lately?"
so fuck it.




You know who I am sad about dying?
Ed McMahon and Farrah Fawcett.
Those two were very talented and they didn't diddle kids either.








Man I miss writing, even when it's a short update.

Captain PirateFace













































these days that drag me down heart and soul

Bank has scooped away the car and the money is short.
I watch movies and music videos to kill the boredom.
I felt this sting before only this one is much worse.
painfully, I feel gutted these days.
trying to capture a youth gone sour and wild.
old man playing at being young and just being a fat ass embarrassment.
The pool get's empty late at night and I find I am swimming alone.
always swimming alone.



She cried and I played dead too damn long.

I got the casket nice and cheap
I didn't want to pay too much to fake my own death.
I got the mortician in on the plot to get rid of my fucking crazy girlfriend.
So I laid there in the coffin real still on the day of my funeral and she came up blubbering and sobbing.
I got so bored with the mess and fell asleep.
Next day I woke up to a cold small box and the worms dropping down through my shitty cheap coffin.
And I guess I must be really fucked then.
I mean hell...
I'm not the chick from "Kill Bill".





P.S.

I love this picture...
does it make me kinda gay?