Being in love is like following a voice through chaos.
Now I've lost the voice and choas has disappeared.
The voice may come from different speakers throughout your life, but it's always wisdom, soothing and correct.
She's told me hold on and all that.
Why'd she go I don't know.
We were making it.
We were.
Oh well, I'll know her when I hear her again.
It will be some time, though, as I recognize I still have a significant distance to fall before I can pick myself up and prepare myself again for chaos, chaos that holds the voice. I'm gaining a lot of weight.
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
Hope you like my rhyme.
I'm done with that.
Love is a purple dinosaur.
His name is Barney.
Get it?
No?
Too young?
Oh, you do get it.
Just didn't find it funny.
I see.
Lol.
Night sweetie.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
I heard it on TV.
Everything.
What u have for dinner.
She says.
Chicken.
Silence.
Except, ... for the tv.
That's still on, then making mom laugh.
Everything.
Home alone, two.
My sister is gorgeous.
Whatever.
Tmi, duderino.
Love it!
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
My profile be like. ..
Perfect.
Umm.
So what?
So umm.
I heart you?
Whatever.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 8:13 PM UTC
I hate you.
Then I'm lying.
Drama king.
Whatever.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
I don't care
If you don't
If you do
Hello.
Whatever.
**** **** ******
Suns of *******
And whatnot.
Gall ****
Ya know?
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
"That's a thing that I do in the back of my head"
Ilove you, baby.
So very much.
I'm tempted to write this in tongues.
I wanna kiss you so much.
So very much.
This is my love poem, baby.
I guess I never wrote one before.
Feels kinda good.
Ok it feels great.
I love you, darling.
Say when I can use your name.
I hope you make friends.
Jk.
I know you are philosopher Queen.
Don't need friends.
It's okay.
I'll never be your friend.
I'm your man.
Time to listen to more Graceland on a walk to the school and its overgrown baseball field.
Mom's up.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
Huh?
You think you are big.
You think you are bad.
You should probably meet my dad.
Anyway, you run.
So do I.
Wanna race?
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
I see myself draped in red from the waste down, locking the door of a carpeted bathroom to which I may or may not have a right according to the owner.
I do have a right, though, for I forever outrun owners and dignitaries, malcontents and over-fed politicians.
I defecate happily something harsh to their ears but soft on my *** Gratefully, I turn the page to another day. This one will not catch me in such distress.
My bowel symphony this morning has four movements and I begin to get impatient after the third because I've made up my mind that I want to read Fitzgerald.
The fourth comes appeasingly and short, a toot in good nature and I clean myself quickly, completely.
I hop downstairs to comb my hair and eat carrots. But my mother is chasing after me stronger than usual, still holding the pill she wants me to take.
I get the carrot and end the poem.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 4:26 AM UTC
Water.
To your sand.
We'll call it the beach of America.
We'll call us the best in the world.
We'll make (we make) the world get going.
Not late (or whatever) but there's a very important date.
Don't really GAF when, but we ready (will be)
Enough about business, she says.
Teenage Wasteland (Baba O' Reily) is on the radio.
My mom is to my left. We're driving.
For my love, though, I'll end this poeM and listen.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC