Yesterday I freaked out.
She told me to breathe.
But that didn't make sense.
I breath all the time.
At least if I held my breath,
I could get high off of it.

I once met a guy who was high on life
He ate the sun
And bathed in the wind
He might have worn tree bark
But I think he was just *****.
He said in order to be one with yourself
You have to be one with all.

I don't think anyone wants to be one with
Themselves
We love other people's attention to much.
Thats why we stand in front of a mirror and list our flaws
That way we actually have something to talk about
I could bend over backwards to look
But all I'd see is everything upside down

I don't like being upside down
Cuz I know the other way is right side up
I don't like the other way
I like my way
Its luxury of design
I draw my life...sometimes there is sketch marks
But that's cuz I'm not a printer.

I don't particularly care for printers.
They make odd noises that sound too much
Like invader robots.
I've seen too many machine rising movies.
And I think I have seen the printer glare at me.
Probably cuz I kicked it.
It printed obscenities at me.

Speaking of obscene
You're probably wondering if this little piece of writing
Has a purpose.
Without further suspense I'm glad to announce it doesn't.
Why you even  read it I couldn't begin to answer.
Why I wrote it is as mysterious as bologna.

I don't have much time left to write.
Probably a good thing because I don't have much
Write left to time.
But I implore that if you have read this that if any of it made
Sense.
Its about time to switch therapists.