just write through every thingle bad feeling you'll ever feel in your entire loife. my grandma died but i can write it out and feel better and remember the good times. my lip hurts cuz the dentist burnt it with his tools but i can write it out and realize it looks like a huge coldesore and its fun to bite. my job is a diabetes factory lorded over by monkeys who love the smell of throwing their own poopoo but i can write it out so now its actually a place full of individuals who struggle to express themselves and therefore have to express themselves in the only way they know how, which is by exerting power, and so exerting power in itself becomes something of an art and some people's paintings are like throwing up through a straw onto a spongy canvas. there is that sort of art, that the masses can appreciate and find fun to look at, and then there is the art that goes unnoticed.

Dude I need to *** so bad. I need to *** soooooooooooooo bad dude. Oh my god I need to *** Then go *** Lol dude I cant go *** Why not Cuz i have to write this What no just go *** No you dont understand if I go *** and come back I wont be able to write it anymore becuase I won’t be needing to *** anymore which is the mindset that this is in Wow now thats what i call a STREAM of consciousness LMAOFA, LOL, WHUWH, HLAOAALFHA,

my head hurts and it makes me think that when i go into work ill be less of a good worker but IRL im just as good as a worker, in fact even a better worker, WITH the headache because the headache is a telling of times that I'll die soon so i™eans i work to the extent of my ability so quickly that i am actually da best frigckin worker around so even when theb osses at the end of the day are like her eyou go dude here are the promotions im like hmm no thanks im going to die soon so you should give it to someone who needs it, like all of my other coworkers, so they dvivide the bonus and they all end up with an extra nnickel added to their pay check but then i dont die, i end up being alive the next morning with the same headache and im like welp guess i gotta just deal w/ it and drink some water and eat a food lol

Trading dishes in sinks for less than it feels,
The fingers become too shriveled to bleed if cut.
Partitioning the mind into three distributions:
Voluntary hand- and motor-functions,
Involuntary goal-oriented guidance system,
And forty percent for the rest.
I take up smoking once more
To talk for fifteen minutes
With a sickly dweeb and serious nomad,
Saying nothing of our kicks,
But planning the weekend outloud For the sake of hearing the ambiance
Before the background
Becomes the out front.

Lights out; cellphone glows
Automatic sprinklers
The open window

The low-lying clouds fall down
Around glowing poppy flowers
Rooted high in bowls of glass