a lingering sensation of what must be done with what is done and how it will be done and when it wasn´t done where confusion flounders with my sweaty ***** in cool chilean nights.
Im nervous,
yet my hands remain calm my heart blips on every bleep yet the space between my ears fills with dreads of whats to come cause my feet find my throat and they dont get along so I stumble to the bathroom only to find the waters run out.
The ticket knows delay when doctors sign slips but I feel I feel something else so instead of acceptance I fight with resistance as a stubborn tool more dangerous then a dull knife to wake through sleeping hours to torture myself with the image of the unfair who is an unkindly god who ***** on flowers when they´re already dead.
oh.
its just that, that that is that.
Logically we understand what we´ve already learned yet history is a longer trip then two seconds past when its catching up and passing to secounds not yet found.
logical al a ly we can simply be yet I find time for thoughts which distract me from me so I can be a me that only lies yet believes making my reality.
no point.
theres no point in splashing bucket full of fire on fire except to say you did but I´ve already said that and hipster cats like new trends which have always been thought before.
The couch can be comfortable tonight.