Its hard to wallow in sorrow
its even harder to watch you do it.
I don't love you or care about you
or know you
but I want to.

It's ok that we forgot how to feel
so I guess its ok that I am in pain now.

Can we remember?

I want to
just *******, stop, trying.
go do something.
It's pathetic.
Your pathetic.

Carry a flower by its petals to the icy marble of an upside down statue of a Catholic reverend mothers torn womb.

Torn petals
broken flowers
let it move and
slide through space
pressed tightly between
two pains
of glass
the juices excrete
from the flesh
of a flower.

Its really beautiful.
My mind is so happy, the satisfaction of watching the life squeeze out of a flower under glass makes me feel safe to express the emotion love.

Electronic microscopic
unlimited data storage
reprogrammable detachable
secure and hidden
in a cute red ribbon.

It holds some files that might make you cry your eyes out.
Photos of dead things and living things one after another.

Pixilated imagery redefines your minds third eye
and its natural production of dimethyltryptamine
its very mean
to think that death
smells good
in mass.

Sensory data, delete.
Forget about it child
your too young to think
its crazy, and abnormal
don't be abnormal, it is dangerous
to be too free because in freedom
you can become a little dumb
loose your mind
forget what living is.

Go plant a flower or a tree
take a walk sometime
its healthy
to move.
Because you talk about how stagnate society is getting wail you sit there every day out of your mind exploring something you cant even see or feel. It's really silly to try to get something out of nothing, but data.

Hello
you there, blind one.
where have you put your eyes?
forgot how to see forgot how to fly
it's hard to never know, why
you are stuck.

take a bite of an apple, what do you taste...
are you human? nothing at all.
oh but just how delicious can the most delicious of all the ripe apples be,
if your blind and cant taste and forgot how to fly,
those apples will be stuck in the tree.

*apparently they are not for you

creative
expression
can
only
be
judged
by
expressionless
creativity

The
healthiest choices made are
final and official
never always.
dissolved in solid
molten
cast
?

The simplest
and the most beautiful
we are all
art
expressive.
Dissolved, questioning.

It’s beautiful to splatter everywhere
Sometimes.

Colorful and clear.
always there and very
real

but never clear, enough?

You make me smile sometimes
and cry a lot
its beautiful

and colorful
period.

I love it and don't know what love is so its ok for me to sit here wondering why I try to understand nothing that is all constructed by a bad trip staring into the endless reflection of a painted lampshade on the surface....

of a mind. Or shiny thing that reflects.

endlessly.

Can you think of me
as a bridge or sea?
endlessly following you
or surrounding you
never supporting you
only in your
mind?

Your so microscopic and I love it
******* we made this!

I love it all and its ok because no one really made the sea or the bridge that crosses it anyways... it’s all not really there. I wish it was, but it isn't. Because I
Because I
Because I
Because I

feel? Nothing of it.

Now paint me again and rinse me white
coat me with your tender sweat device
it’s called a thought running through my mind
meaning nothing and everything at the same time
wipe me off again because you know I love the paint
more then the white canvas.

It’s brilliantly beautiful, sometimes, especially in the sunlight.
Because man made light doesn't shine just right
It’s so complex and hard to define but not even worth the ******* time
I love it every time I notice that word coming up in my, writing?

It’s all just nothing anyways?

happiness
is
only
as
thick
as
the
finest
smile

I love myself, I really do, somewhere.
It's hard to find something I have buried but it's ok, I got it.
Everything is ok.
I love it and it's free and beautiful to see that I am really me.
I love to be me and free and open and back to myself again.
It’s really pleasant to feel like I can just be myself again, for no one but me who I love so dearly.

why don't we hold eachother
what is is that makes us hide, we all know what we want
we're starving for affection
it's painful
I just want to hold you
and feel you hold me too

Am I turning on myself?
do you turn because of my actions or your thoughts
why?



I'm so torn inside and it's showing on the outside
I'm killing myself, slowly
not fast enough
there is nothing much to do apart from die when you barley feel

I just pretend like it doesn't hurt

it's really hard
to alway feel
like a child
lost
always trying to find them
again
forever missing mother and father

it's really painful to never know where they are
you look into their eyes
they're not really there
it hurts to miss them
and wonder
will they ever be back?
It's hard to love yourself when they were never really there to show you how
to feel
and love you
it's hard
to have completely forgotten how to *be

beauty is so relative
so destructive
and so ugly.
It's really beautiful to see someone crying in happiness,
falling down to grasp something beloved,
or running free for nothing at all but simple,

beauty.

I wear a mask so that I can feel safe looking at you
I know you see me thorough it
Twirling in place revolving around myself
exposing a new mask broken and untied
falling from my face it is my own skin
no one will ever see anything below
broken bones and bleeding veins are all that lie beneath this mask
this image you all hold so strongly is really nothing now
the face I once was is forever nothing inside the palms of my laughing hands looking upon the structure from which it fell
bones and flesh mean nothing without eyes
**feeling hurts

zap
oh no, another thought
dedodedodedodedodedodedodedodedodedodedodedodedodedodedo­dedodedo
Sometimes I wish my mind could reboot.
instead I just breathe

sometimes I cannot sleep
sometimes I find your clothing in my bed
usually I just sit
where are you now, lost and found forever my lover?
today I will try to go back to sleep and pray this is only a dream*
Sometimes I wish I could cry

I have said it over and over again, I love you.
*******, you don't understand anything.
All I want is one conversation.
you are delusional, I will never tell you the truth.
so you do love me then...
I am dead
I will hold you
never
Always

As we were riding and riding
down and up around
the old clock tower
we heard distant visions of
physical human contact
with extra terrestrial beings
from another dimension
inside the mind
of a poet sitting cross-legged
with a big red book, full
of upside down letters
and abbreviated punctuation.

He said that everything in the world
revolved around him
because he was a god
but I didn’t believe him
so I tried taking the book from him
to test his power
and all I can remember
is waking up here
with these torn out pages in my pants pocket.

They say words of math and science
but he was a poet
not a teacher
so I sat there wondering
when the poet would teach me math and ****
because apparently to make a haiku you need to know a thing or two about numbers.
Apparently the science is used for making the inks he uses to write.

The man and his trade
were one and the same.
His poems were his paper
as much as he was his pen
and everything was normal
again after he decided to stop
trying to separate himself from
that book.

Then I realized that he was me and those pages were
mine, he
always said that we would meet
someday, he came out for a masterpiece,
I found it written in blood on the back
of the math and science.

It was fantastic, an amazing piece of work.
Apparently numb can feel good sometimes.

Walking down a trail leading nowhere
Rabbit holes cover the hillside
Who are you following me along this forsaken path?
A fragment of a lost and forgotten fragmented expression of self.
I can't see anymore, where am I?
Falling, falling, falling, fallen...
"Who might you be?", asks the follower.
shadow speak no evil
unconscious thoughts delay realization
*It's ok, I'm just talking to myself again.

Being, existing, living.
Loving, feeling, creating.
Destroying, destroying, destroying.
We are only human don't you see?
Get over it, it's clean.
Fresh and new again as always
new
*color

sometimes when I try to think, I think the thought, I cannot think.
sometimes when I try to stop thinking, all I can think about is everything.

I really need to stop thinking.

Flowers are beautiful, are they not?
I know that you look at them sometimes, do you not?
Are you aware of their texture and color, their smell?
Have you ever eaten a flower? Some flowers are very flavorful.
A beautiful sight to see can sometimes be a beautiful and fragrant bouquet of flowers...
stomped out on the hot summer concrete.

The most beautiful thing about flowers is that they die.