jim
  And a hand
Game now 2.
"Lightening the load, the offenders"
Grey wash.
Buzzard musk.
Mucousy and white, flesh flute, patted down in squares. Little green squares full of time
⬛  juxtaposed with a moth  head and flying into cold flame

If I knew anything I would have just kept quiet.
If I knew anything I surely would have never met you. I get in these lapses, I forget about the soft landing and the harsh freezes.
I wish I knew my self more. For what reason do I look out this window, with black lungs which spell my fortune.
I don't need to know.  I wander along to my  big red bed.
   So many roses .  It's the same

Throbbing along. Grieving one.  Where did you go.  Where did the water drain down.  A ******* was not too far.  I walked there and fell. Broke my nose on the glass

PEARL

moldovite. it didn't work ⁸

Love that is dead is like used carpentry, zebra walls tell me their story, for the bird in who's town? July. I'm so ******* broken.
Losing feels like gaining. Gaining more courage for the inevitable. I've crossed out September and put up walls. I can't listen to myself anymore.  Abundance is waste now  , I have everything I don't need and want.  I forget the point? It's still fine now, or I stay together for the pain

This one's for the internet which killed my baby and laid eggs in my eyes , I think.  It laid me down and tied me with wire and stuffed my mouth, my cute mouth, my chapped lips. I got up and got water.
She laid there too, next to her skeleton. My ghost now disguised. They killed her and threw away the parts that I loved. I live in an endless loop. The film decayed. Keeps playing. They played with my heart. My sad heart.  I have no options now but to wait. I *******  wait

A bowl of cherries sits protruding on the dentist's chair as he skitters over to the female specimen of uncertain origin.
" the fruit flies ate your mother like a little ******"
"Why, with angel dust I frolicking now?" She says as she gesticulates with her pointer toes.
"No mam, this is cancer"  and the tongue squirts juice in her salty eye.  
Her crotch turns gangrenous and the dwarf behind the counter lays 2 rotten eggs in a cupboard.
"What was the point of lying" said the doctor
"I'm not sure" says feminine monstrosity, but the beach whaled for them..I took out a salary and billed my little girl 26 hens by my sad eyed mouse. 2 butchers took the heart, we rested by doves and the dwarf laughed furious. God loves his children.😈

I think my problem is less about confidence and more to do about my apathy. I don't really think I give much a **** about anything and how I present myself and how im perceived, but then that also includes the way I see myself.  Do I matter enough to showcase my life and *******? There's such a saturation of material of all sorts that I struggle to justify my output. I could just do it for myself but then the nihilist in me says why bother? Its an eternal struggle, but beer helps in these situations. Makes me feel like I do matter, self important. I can even write letters to myself.  Hello self. I am so fine.  I wipe off the dust on my mirror and sing.  I get over it,  but there's room for all sorts of **** in this tank.  No one is bringing their masterpiece with them to the abyss, but some try.  So I don't