Noiselessly, the world has begun to defect.
From it chaos flows like blood trailing an abcess,
the poison itself long since passed.
Ash and flowering flame.
The sinking of an eyelid like a blue vault sleeplesness
sits with folded arms.
Peeling words from the walls,
This obsession runs deep untill the desire itself is broken and wasted.
The sistine eye , the twisting thigh.
If dead skin says nothing, than it cannot lie...

Face it, we live short lives, don't wast it.
Encourage one another, and smile.
Bake a pie for a neighbor, and taste it.
Goodness becomes a habit after a while.
Changing thought patterns to better yourself
is a great practice
With goodness you can love and live with style.
Every man chooses how he marches in the parade of life
Practice goodness and I doubt you'll have much strife.

The voices pierce my thoughts like lightening bolts
Filling what could be silence or ideas
Loneliness and need leave holes in my psyche
Though I'm alone, I'm still beside myself
My few friends are "acquaintances"
Though I do love them dearly
The Spirit of God is so abiding
It makes me wake early
Eager to minister to the souls in hiding.

As he stared at me,
his face set,
I couldn't look, as on the
Open magazine, no reading,
But only to see him peering.

He stared at me as I slept,
Stared as I ate.
The Father of Our Country
I soon began to hate.
They took my gun, they took
My freedom,
Soon I'll get out of here
And give George a beating.

Still he stares, still
he looks
And once again they hit me
With the books.
I tried to injure the guard,
To get the key.
That danged picture keeps
lookin' at me!

I'm in the jail, I'm in the pen.
For anywhere from five to ten.
You could not know how I feel
as I sit and shut my eyes.
Be careful, they're watching you,
Under their disguise.

Yes, space was yielding its whole mental padding
in which no thought was yet clear
or had replentished its load of objects.
But little by little the mass turned,
like a slimy and powerful nausea,
a sort of vast influx of blood,
vegetable and thundering.
The very darkness became profuse and
without object.
The total frost gained clarity.

O Sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weight my eyelids down
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?...
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds, and leav'st the kingly couch
A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell?...
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose?

Be what you would seem to be-
or, if you'd like it put more simply-
never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than
what it might appear to others that what you
were or might have been was not
otherwise than what you had been,
would have appeared to them
to be otherwise.