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Today I barely used my phone and just had time to sit and daydream and reminisice and it was nice
I've been afraid that daydreaming is a terrible, escapist sin wherein I romanticise and hence dehumanise people
but today daydreaming just felt nice
Leah told me to publish this so I did! Checkmate writers block!
I have intelligence but my confidence just died
The evidence is irrelevant - fate has me resigned
Shall I show you my skeletons or would you rather hide?
Shadows tripping in darkness search for the other side
Every demon is scheming to keep my appetite
Unsatisfied as I grab a knife but battle blind
In fact, just last night, I had a half a mind as well
To search for a piece of time to find pieces of myself
Without help, or peace signs, I could disguise
A thousand lines about suicide as sighs
Of relief for someone else, but self belief is a lie
And cyanide dreams is where my future lies
did i just rap

this borrows liberally from kendrick lamar's very jazzy "untitled 05", hence the reference to "untitled, unmastered." (the album it comes from) in the title
Fainting at how stupidly I love you
Crying because it's a stupid sweet addiction
Stripping meaning from all my diction
Knocking my air out me
Jump faster with me lady
Spin till we fall down Venus de Milo style
Venus venus falling into Venus arms your hands are soft
The friction is so impenetrably soft
Falling asleep sideways airtight
Laughing at the light
Remembering how the sun hid itself
Light laughed at itself
venus de milo arm style
I'll be the sea, fatuous and chaotic
You be the sky, melting into marigolds above me
Tasting colours, orchards of hues
Close my eyes and lift up my libation
All my arid poems of sybaritic self pity
Sand on my lips, wind sweeping my hair, seashells in my ears
Salty spray on my eyelashes
You're my sweet clemency, verdure and elusive
I want all of you, your ochre and your chartresue and your auburn melting into each other
I want your contradictions and contraindications and complications and dreary storms
Your bleak Tuesdays, your burnt clouds, your blurry edges
Your unknowable horizons
And your azure, pastel and electric, harsh and soft, misty and empty

Do I need to spell it out, darling
I want to kiss you, isn't it obvious
I wrote this watching the sunrise on the beach.
Storytime: yesterday i had a movie moment
I sat on the pier with wind sweeping me and read Jane Austen staring at the horizon. Then i tried to go for a meditative walk on the beach, but i couldn't stop thinking about all the ***** that could at any moment pinch my toes and i ended up going back home.
I guess the lesson is - dont over exert yourself and your movie moments. Also, watch out for those crustaceous little *******.
try hard
abstinent nomadic comatose clemency perennial tenacious
deprecation consent omittance incommodious antiphon
i'm not here in these words
ardent inherent undertone inexplicable rapture composition
ineptitude unabating ergo virgo let fish drown
swim out the blue existential perennial exposè
nothing i write means anything
elysium and gehenna and heaven dance! ballroom waltz with paradise!
doesn't matter does it?
kiln endow decree serene neopolitic  hover over the waters
death, many deaths i'll sing
exquisite and swashbuckling
awash in blue flame
i wonder what all this means as i look up
at this oceanic mountainous plateau of streamlet words i've written and drowned under
like a little void to draw me in
or a misty hollow deep to float over
within and without creation, salvation, salivation, liberation,
sanitation
words mean nothing. wine and dead roses. all my sunflowers died.
hypnosis electric blue ice cold bitter lemonade
picturesque animals in rolling funk and havanna trees
maybe i should be more optimistic
it's not like i'll die like this
paralysed contortion grime delicacy fragile breast camera
oh how the breeze fragile
Fragile, it goes like this, it's okay i suppose:
I am a wine glass in your palm
I know you'll let me shatter
Breaking into a million glass fractures
Doesn't seem to matter

"Oh darling" I hear you call out
Over the inexplicable black void
Over which I delicately balance
Despite my attempts to avoid

In my heart I know the choice I've made
And I know that choice is you
All the realisation in the world
Wouldn't make me say we're through

White sheets, blissfully innocent
Stained with your sickly pale glow
I've got to have you, I know I shouldn't
What happens next, you already know.
Its bad luck to talk while you're driving
But I don't want us to be fighting
Please stay familiar for the last time
So what kind of car are you riding
I said wait, what are you hiding
What do you mean for the last time

White Ferrari
I finally replied
A moment of silence
And then she sighed
I used to be in pain
But now I don't feel it
I used to be afraid
But now I don't fear it

I asked her what she was scared of
She said it used to be love
But now I don't care
Cause I'm not scared
Or maybe not unafraid
Maybe I'm just not there

The empty lot I'd pulled into
I gazed at it behind the window
Of my White Ferrari, and held the phone
The sun went down as shadows relegated
The sky turned blurry and pixelated
And pretty soon, I'd have to go home

White Ferrari
Make the world end
I don't want to hear this
Then she said, please pretend

That in this life, in this life
We can watch the summer together
As it draws to a close, draws to a close
And while the leaves fall down and we get cynical
We hold hands and you pull me close

You dominate my dreams
Always
I'll see you as I wander in dark corners
And hallways

Things are so hard in this life
Things are so dark in this life
We're born alone
But we don't have to end that way
Please don't hang up the phone
Before I go away

Your White Ferrari
I wish I could see it
Or even go to sleep
Cause then I could dream it
It's so easy to leave you breathless
It's not hard to make it look effortless
I had an epiphany about life
But I'm not quite sure what it was
Oh well, nevermind
I'll figure it out eventually
Eventually

She said, are we taller in other dimensions
I said, no we're small and not quite worth the mention
She said I'm sorry for turning so abstract
I said, please tell me where are you at
She said, you know I can't tell you that
She said, everything is starting to turn black
She said don't hang up but try to stay quiet
We're never closer than when we're in silence
Let's try to imagine what silence looks like
I hung up the phone and was left with the night.
Yes yes this is what happens when you spend the day listening to Frank Ocean

the story here is a girl calling a guy (friend? lover? family? who knows man) as she's about to commit suicide, asking him to stay on the line because she doesn't want to die alone.
somewhere between always and never
in an abstract space like a dark tunnel
a mosquito buzzes low
you're leaned back on your pillow
blanket outstretched on the pale green
looking up at a sky with no stars
country music plays softly from your radio
but there's nothing to hear
you reach into your back pocket
and pull out a portrait of mona lisa
with gum catering to her face
and sticking to your painted fingernails
smoke drifts softly off the orchards and ambient conversations  
there's empty tension as you hear the clink
of the wine glasses being passed around
silvery flowers are shivering in the empty moonlight
you're having a daydream while someone's talking
i think you're dreaming about a crow
its tracing your movements while you're walking
stomping across wet plants and muddy grass
and puddles in the road in yellow raincoats and dyed hair
holding mushrooms and butterflies
these soft discussions that go nowhere
are a backdrop for black and white images that mean nothing
you could catch a handful of rain as it trickles down
like a drop sliding down the side of a cup
you could empty that handful of rainwater
spread it out on the grass like
coins and diamonds layered on a glass table
you could be intertwined with your lover on the blanket
letting your whispers tickle each others ears
while the music from the radio plays skeleton keys
and dead notes
soon, your arm resting across a lover's chest
will taste the stinging warmth of the sun
as it breaks the morning sky into a million parts
and then you'll have to deal with the lazy poetic
imagery of the new day
bees will hum against the dew coloured flowers
hazy orange heat melting into mirages
will reflect off car windows
and burn your feet on the inky black tar
and you'll have to stare at the hearts etched into legs
so to all the ceiling fans that stopped spinning a long time ago
your friends raise a glass and say
"hello never
how may i be of assistance
it seems to me you've lost something
i would like to help you find it"
the skies are darker than usual and the clouds are greyer
the sunlight is warmer and friendlier
the green is wet
words and dialogues are more abstract than ever.
plants are playing in the suburban boredom
the pool is sunburned

there's a ladybug on your leg.
say goodnight to it while you still have the chance.
these visions of Johana are all that remain
I start a thousand stories and never come close to finishing them
I open a page to write a poem and discard it quickly
Aye am very bored all the time
Eye have no idea what to do anymore, so eye breathe in the
Eyre all around me
I'm a little fish in a bowl
Fishy fishy fish
G.
lass
g l a s s
bubblewater.
I feel like a fish trapped in a glass bowl. I think this feeling used to be enjoyable when I was a child, and I could wander around making up stories for every little corner of the house and spend hours daydreaming.
But now I only wander the house when I'm frightfully bored and lonely, and spiralling downwards into a pool of overwhelming thoughts.
Also, I can't write poems. It feels like trying to violently, passionately, energetically break the glass of the bowl, but instead only gently tapping on the glass and then falling backwards into the ground.

— The End —