It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.

Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.

I'm a scientist *****,
Don't you know what the means?
I've got a P.h.d in physics,
Bring ya down to your knees.
I'll find your resonance frequency ,
You'll be runnin' scared,
Make you quake like Nagasaki
E=Mc^2
Yea,
Ya know the ladies love me when they're rubbin up on me
I give em' cash they shake that *** they're gettin wet off this salary
I make a hundred thousand mother ******' Gs a year,
Now whatta you do?
Sit around smoke dope and drink beer?
You wanna shoot me?
You can try if you like,
But I can predict the path of a bullet in mid flight,
I'll drop you faster than gravity with the sound of my gat,
**** you with more certainty than Schrodingers cat.
Well,
Galileo, Galileo
Whats my name?
Your girl orbits my **** she gives me head everyday

You know what entropy says?
All things must come to an end,
Well I'm your catalyst *****,
Make you wish you was dead.

If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, baked and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.

He told her she was pottery; a vase with grooves and cracks.
The patterns of the history she hid behind her back.

Within his words he layered in- like thread upon a loom-
The sweetest undercurrent to illuminate that gloom.

In certain cultures, he decreed, when pottery is cracked
They aggrandize them with gleaming gold to bring their splendor back

For they believe, with certainty, once damage has been wrought
Those tiny cracks, now filled with light, hold truths that can't be taught.

We were misfits
the neglected *******
of a backwards world
that rejected us
not because we were sick
demented or dangerous
but because we didn't prescribe
to a preconceived notion
of what a functioning citizen was.

Not rotten enough to spoil
behind the bars of a prison
just competent enough
to work menial jobs
and drown our sorrows
at the corner pub.

We swallowed this hard truth
the same way we drank our shots
with no chaser
and at times it burnt
maybe even made us tear up
but we never let it beat us
(too strong for that)

We were beautiful
resilient beasts
that could carry the weight
of the world upon our shoulders
and it was heavy
but we would tell ourselves
"doesn't every world need an atlas?"
so we went on holding up the sky
when no one asked it of us.

Consciousness aside,
In my thoughts the ghosts reside-
Never enough time.

How vibrantly she lives,
always moving, always walking,
dancing, spinning, frolicking;
a smile for strangers, a kiss for friends;
a touch on your shoulder, a tinkling laugh;
her soul shines in her face wherever she goes;
How vibrantly she loves.