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and my thoughts are incontinent


                                                                                                                    I cant hold them in

                                                        
                                                                     my head may explode


      verbal diarrhea


                                                                spews from my lips


                                                                                                     all that I say

                      Is watery nonsense


                                                          ideas splattered everywhere


fester and decay

                                                                                            
                                                                                                              staining this space

                                   with ***** disillusion


  the brilliance I once had


                                              is useless from  exhaustion



   tiredness: the cause of


                                                                                                              my skulls distention
Search. Search. Seek. Seek.
Cold. Cold. Clear. Clear.
Sorrow. Sorrow. Pain. Pain.
Hot flashes. Sudden chills.
Stabbing pains. Slow agonies.
I can find no peace.
I drink two cups, then three bowls,
Of clear wine until I can’t
Stand up against a gust of wind.
Wild geese fly over head.
They wrench my heart.
They were our friends in the old days.
Gold chrysanthemums litter
The ground, pile up, faded, dead.
This season I could not bear
To pick them. All alone,
Motionless at my window,
I watch the gathering shadows.
Fine rain sifts through the wu-t’ung trees,
And drips, drop by drop, through the dusk.
What can I ever do now?
How can I drive off this word —
Hopelessness?
Sprawled out across his back.
Contouring the bean bag chair into something shapely beautiful.
Knees expelled in opposite directions,
Expelling my imagination into a furious sea of frenzy.
Silence.
Except for the constant clicking of the video-game controller.
The constant flicking of his fingers soon lead my imagination
Elsewhere.
The traffic-jam of words inside of me soon slip uncontrollably to thoughts
As I sit behind him.
My heat undecoded.
Legs crossed, just as a lady should.
Girls from all over must tell him he's beautiful.
But beauty in itself is a limitation.
I'm not sure if he is aware that he is beyond
The liberal definition.
I find myself soon forgetting the awkward of the situation,
Instead savoring the surreal reality of such a moment.
"Are you winning?" I shortly ask him, breaking the heavy incredible silence.
But I had to know.
He can miss as many goals as he likes. Laugh it off.
Because inside of me he's scoring.
#throwbackthursday
who will ever understand boys and video games?
you were the first man to love me.
naturally
i loved you too,
marveling at your beauty under the summer blue of the new york city sky.
fingers entwined, hearts rocketing...
you perpetually climbed to the center of my
universe.
if i could rein in the sun,
i would converse with the earth
and hand you the center of our solar system.
the shooting of stars would be under your infliction, and
the world would slowly dance around the
conviction
of your heart beat.
your heart beat
sounds like the finale of fireworks on the fourth of july,
your eyes
flicker like the stars shining beyond the thickness of the summer new york city sky
thickness
like the weight of love.
 Apr 2013 Hailey Jujubeen
Molly
The problem with people is that we are trapped.
We are boundless in our imagination and curiosity, and yet we may only conduct ourselves within the tiny window of our own perception of the world. We wonder about what is behind, beneath, beyond what we can see. We need to know why, why, why, what accident or plan or catastrophe forged the human consciousness? What carpenter, what architect, what tools built these bodymindsoul creatures that stir and writhe in their own confusion? We are like caterpillars who have inched their way to the end of the stem, stretching ourselves out into terrifying oblivion in hopes of finding something new to hold on to. We push ever so slowly at the boundaries of life, expanding it, nudging at the walls of the absolute. We have grown too big to fit inside the thin shell of reality which perception traps us in.
Sometimes the imagination takes over, forces itself to crack through the frail, eggshell layer of reality and look oblivion in the eyes, to know once and for all whether dead and alive are any different at all, and what came before, and what will come after. Reality pales in comparison to the infinity of the human consciousness. In the mind, there is no before or after- only whether or not.

Once you shatter reality, you will see the universe unfold before you like a blanket. Its secrets will form lines and shapes, rivers and mountains across a map, showing what is, what has always been, and what will always be. You will know infinity. But no one will ever believe you.
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