it's just embarrassing to speak to someone who doesn't want to listen
you don't have to tell me i'm sick
as if its something outlandish
i accept my illness
i've been in therapy for months
shows how little you know
or care to know (how little you care to know)
i guess it's more convienent for you to only see illness in me
to make me the permanent black sheep
(a bad seed)
the festering (open) sore of the family

sorry I can't get anything done mom I'm OBSESSED with myself
---
i just...
its all too much (!)
*eats a hot dog

this is my 5th attempt of the day at poetry i guess i'm really trying to say something, heh?

how do i implement nets
(a) net that catches the unconscious

(where) life lands as poetry


how do i implement a net that catches the unconcsious

an aperatus where writing falls over and becomes poetry
where writing lands as poetry

its so hard to constuct
how do you give structure to poetry
you have to let it be as thin as everything (anything) else
an eccentricity
an interest
an anomoly
let it be swift like an wild animal that can't be tamed

how

where can life land has poetry
where writing lands as poetry

what gives you new life?

- the underpinnings of the artist
- mischief (and hellishness
- (becoming friends with nothingness)
- devotion to (healthy) destruction
- becoming friends with nothingness
-----------------------------------------------------­-------
hellishness (being hellish)
(the shadow)
exploration of the shadow
the unconscious
rage
callousness
violence
killing (things)
crudeness
crassness
- healthy outlets for destruction
- becoming friends with nothingness
rage

wbu?
its an important thing to know
------

mischief and hellishness
becoming friends with nothingness
the underpinnings of the artist
-------
memories of musing privately
(good memories
of musing privately)
---
(waiting) to be moved, egoically
--
confident ignorance
i try to be unconscious and let things shape themselves
(things shaping themselves unconsciously)
---
the familial greif inbetween my teeth
----
i cant control this beast
the beast that is my creativity

inevitably, ultimately
that space exists
(i now see how close i've been trying to live to it)
the place in between extremes
that breeds apathy
that i'm realizing i can be alright with
maintaining
polishing even,  like i would any other part of myself
that has the potential for rot, neglect, decay
tending to it
to prepare for,
becoming friends with (befriend) nothingness

you filled your house with sugar and salt
and forgot to connect it back to a single thing
lack of awareness continues to poison your offspring
though there was really nothing you could have done about that anyway

i feel like i just keep pounding on physicality (putting on pounds)
when all i really want is death
not to actually die
but shut down
a grand theatrical shut down
i want to die over and over
and be born again
clean
like a baby
not know anything
to have to redevelop myself
rn i'm too developed
self congragulating
never fully developing
self congradulating  

to be in a state of actively not wanting anything
to not desire or wish
no desires
no wishes
(no desires or wishes)