christ is holy and there is guacomole
**** is **** a holy son
                  of insignificant words from some foundfather
no words to be existing is here religion is something

Graphic holographic photographic
useless plastic blacklights
that sit

popping balloons ***** spilling
everywhere, at least partial
it comes and goes

sitting, comparing mustaches, reminiscing
woodland conundrums meaningless exchanges of time
passed

squished in a sober automobile
full of drunks meaningless squabbles
squished seven in where seven belong
belligerent drunk, joyously sober
drunkenly sober?
either way i am
am i
i am
here for now, although we all know the impermanence of time, the moment
stupid words thrown on a page
to serve what purpose?
what good does any of it do?
words connect emotions
sorrowful stories of serene sounds
uneffecting interacting with all

endless expanses of open feet walk without
soles? souls? either way the have no base?
sitting on couches watching beaten cats dogs children
the night is getting late it's clear now

and i sit thinking thoughts that never leave my mind
and smile

to wonder to wander to wish to want
i suppose all is a waste without action

some day i'll scrub out this old blood
the perpetual scab
the note that tugs the strings of my heart
wonderful, joyous memories
bring only sadness, inadequacy
but not true sadness, just a longing
for things that could have been

familiar sounds
emotions connected
part of a mess
massively overlooks
still searching
when we know
what we've already found

My mind is racing around and around
Restless, never stopping
Sleep is just a dream.
But a dream is all I desire.
Because dreams come with sleep and sleep is what I need.
I lay awake, my mind spinning with vivid irrelevancies.
Creating Pictures in my mind like a painter with fresh canvas.
But these are not peaceful images
Scattered, wild, chaotic creations
I lay awake waiting for sleep or the inevitable morning.