Cutting the rug through the floor
Feel like compensating for being such a bore
bumping elbows with every neighbor
amazed with your own crazed flavor as they walk out the door
Not sure whether this state is a misguided call for help
or a benign release from social duress for my health
I think past the first 10 minutes I start to put the attentive on edge
The sad part is how bored I feel about the whole thing deep down.
Like I'm trying to thread a needle with a rope, or pierce through a
veil that hasn't opened to my hammering 1000 times before.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:54 AM UTC
Sexually assaulting a woman at a burger king who moves like a crack addict, only in a subtle way. Leading me to believe she's a ********** I press my ***** against her hand on the register counter. She alerts the people here. They call the cops. Everybody I know finds out. *** deprivation... **** culture...
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:34 AM UTC
You've got no squeeze on your lower regions and you worry me to death.
I like to think I'm the same about some things.
You look like you smell like the stuff that makes the space between my gut and my heart tingle with numbness and uncontrollable awe.
A sign of that bad luck pleasure sentence I'd of rather avoided for the next 20-infinity odd years, if you'd asked me about it two months ago, alone in dark bleeding rooms I'd tied my head away from.
God does it make me reel and ***** nausea all throughout my nerves, our promise and the death sentence signed on in the small print.
Your uncertain confidence
My overconfident uncertainty
It's outside our bubbles and it seems to make me worry more.
you just pet my head and the smoke and sinuous void slip out and don't rule us anymore.
You make my throat kick out submission to the nonsense of mopping up needles spilt on a playground made up of such wavering lines. I hate lists.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:33 AM UTC
I want the excuse of insanity, oh please.
Broken record, trinket signpost, golden birdcage.
Fey glare into a reflection, power precaused intrinsic to your soul when expressed.
Give me everything I ever wanted without excuse. I'll kiss yours with my own deliverance, by
my salvation you'll be salved.
Don't let them take you away sad puppy girl, you're all I've ever got left.
I hear the faint sound of a soft melody dim, pounding through the halls like a Clam of Military Din.
Don't hear these faulty beams, I'll be good if you stay around. I'll suffer with grace if you don't, just
keep that affection that causes you to smile so wide at my company sometimes.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:31 AM UTC
People are dangerous,
everybody,
to themselves
to things they love
and to everything else.
Not more dangerous than anything else
what I'm getting at is
being alive
is a constant state of being almost dead
most likely there is a number
If you knew enough about everything
you can put to the likelihood of surviving for the next moment
and most likely that number isn't one you will like
one reason being it seems 100% is the only acceptable number
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
Ego headspace, mindset phaneron life perception sight
the assumptions you operate under to simply get by
or focus on a series of tasks that seem to take
the majority of our lives. building always a beat
of building something without looking or even knowing or
being thoughtful about the thing you are building towards
out of fear of it's massive complexity and incomprehensibility
all of the unknown about it.
Death impudence pointlessness despair terror humility absolute antithesis contradistinction
nihilism gives transparency to the structure
Ephemeral and the mad passion to
work against those things
make the march wobbly to show it's deluded nature
show clear forceful severing ending sounds during counterpoint
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
You never left me Mononoke. You've grown on me like a tumor. Whenever i run out of things to make me feel something I feed it and it ruins my sense of humor.
What could i do when I get bored without it.
Although, I don't want to seem ungrateful. You gave me a sense of what loneliness is and so far that's the most useful experience I've had. It shows me how to stomach all of this meta cannibalism and how to put something down without feeling so bad.
Most of all there is no practical or abstract advantage either way. Just which ghosts follow you around, and this one is pretty nice when letting your mind run astray
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
Slurries of hails to the standard rail of self-expectations in the projector that melts back-bone whenever faced with a path over mountain that always professes from the abstraction sinkhole. Emptying that cobbed and worthless orafice seems pretty good lain back. it's during stalkings around the star of an other soul's eyes the motor behind the sighs that cut through the man-made fog is needed in my anxious tissue. It comes now an epic old stone to my skull like an old and overfed dog needs a forest's unmountable cedar amber airholm and rushing pulp thick with the scent of meat.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC
Violent roses
give me woozes everyday
I'm hammered on my own
something
is always slipping through
a filter of justifications
language misrepresents me
I don't think words that
spread ideas like intrinsic responsibility
are relavent outside of cults of personality
So I'd prefer to say
through a filter of new ideas
of what safe thoughts are in a fear house
reinterpreted
Soft violet soup
gifting a brainhorse with a two by four
or convictions falling
out of atrophy
or perhaps
a lack of neccessity
I don't know
maybe
a letting go of an abusive tack
that pressed you to let go of joy
Oh I don't knoowoh
To find yourself a damaged adult
with a mind aimed at forgetfulness and
forgivefulness
A new rage forms in tandem
with a promise
to a menacing question asked
by those who unfetttered their wallets
but that was ages ago
and now it's time for a letting go
at least that's
what the last night alone begot
but who is past that inside lie
that furthers time
well I can't see anyway
So **** it I'll lose it or die.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
Just writing for precedent, or so I keep writing later if precedent works there.
Thinking about metre and it's slow going because all I want to do has already been here or so far off thinking about it gives me a thousand yard stare.
Trapped in myself has become my event horizon. Building cities for my heart out of **** and hair to keep it turned on.
Thinking about old people i know who stopped doing their compulsive creative medium at some point in their lives.
I imagine what stopped them was ease and some contract in blood they signed for their eager calling from about 50 years down the line and a crawling mammal which has hold of their mind.
Then that puts my tiny light in perspective and i forget after tapping my wrist to remember.
One day of that that mystified group of adults given to their fearful balmy impulses and I'll be a member.
I think this on my weaker days.
It makes me more friendly in some ways.
When have i wanted to be that when it comes down to it.
When this meager neglect sentiment ignorant of relative need well aware of the rifts of spirit between those
with and without means. It starts to pick up the toys from floors
while he's sleeping.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC