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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.
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
The way the light reflects off your glass
And fractures across all our palms
And the strike of every blade of grass
And how the hills seem to breathe so calm

I'm sick and tired of working for nothing
And I don't want to be searching for something
So won't you waste time with me
Queen Jane
Won't you count lines with me
Queen Jane

When your servants decline my requests
On the banisters I can see them hide
Then your mother starts talking about regrets
And I wonder why I'm sitting inside

I'm so bored of having something to do
And I'm exhausted by how little time I spend with you
So won't you count sheep with me
Queen Jane
Won't you fall alseep with me
Queen Jane

When you're talking to me it sounds abstract
When I hear your voices shouting in chorus
They all stick out and I'm tired of our contact
And I can't see the trees for the forest

I'm so distracted by too little to see
And too much, you know, would only bore me
So won't you watch paint dry with me
Queen Jane
Won't you laze and get high with me
Queen Jane

When the glass doors of the store slide open
And you're wishing you brought some kind of coat
And the manager is whispering go in
Is it too late to speculate we're on a boat

Won't you watch clocks tick with me
Queen Jane
Won't you feel sick with me
Queen Jane
Roadtripblues
On a drive to durban
December 30 2021
Im thinking of ending things
Everything looks apocalyptic
And when I look in the mirror all i see is an archaic building
There's no sound when i speak.
There's nothing to hear in this echo chamber and there's nothing left to talk about
And everything feels like ash
I'm the little ghost in my room
Watching somebody else lay in my bed
N4m4stE
I’ve often felt like there’s something slightly wrong inside my head
like reality was just slightly toying with me.
Something just underneath the skin.
It may strike you too if you’re not careful,
it happens so easily. So you might wake up one day and
make yourself breakfast and
then go about your morning routine,
brush your teeth and
pick out your clothes and
go off to wherever and
feel the sun striking you and
be aware, beneath the surface, that there’s something slightly missing, or
maybe there’s just too much of it.
Maybe you’re just bored. Maybe you’re hungry (you’re only human after all). Maybe you need sleep. Maybe you need a therapist. Maybe you should forget your head, because everyone has off days, and you’re prone to overthinking you know, don’t fall victim to overthinking, it’s probably nothing, you’re too much in your thoughts anyway. Maybe you’re going through withdrawals of a drug you’ve never tried. Maybe you should take drugs. Maybe you need to be dissected. Maybe you need a friend. Maybe you’re in the wrong reality. Maybe you’ve been alive too long. Maybe you’re living in someone else’s life. Maybe you're dead. Maybe you need a nap.
You ever hear "Maybe" by the Chantels? Pretty good song
I don't mind love
I'm not afraid of life
I want to marry you always
I'm spending time walking down the street
I wear a shirt and tie and go to work everyday
I watch TV and see adverts and people in the concrete all around
I hear pretty melodies and see trees and grass and bricks everywhere
I love you
My Name is Jorge regula
fish are stupid
buildings folded over
dumb together

i buried the shirt i fell asleep in
my nails aren't painted anymore
we all have little lollipops
buy me a fish

blurry faces in crowds
into themselves
im melting over
your head is small

im thinking of you
stairways in circles
little shadows on my bed

i buried the shirt i fell asleep in

ghost dancing
popcorn butter air

im thinking of me
i love you
i love you

i love you
this isn't happening anywhere.
i don't even like rollercoaster rides anymore
a surreal love poem
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