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Freuds lament meant that a pen is a *****
I comment
Hi I am Sebastian
I’m an addict
Addicted to frantic erratic language
In what language am I babbling in - can’t quit - can't resist
Grappling this black pen with smeared hands
Grasp the ******* thing
And ink
Panicking again
Where squids swam
Here stands a weird man
Trapped in a stare match
With miasmic abyss
It’s scary ****
As hearing camera flashes
Dancing bare ***
Unaware as to
where the camera is
Can’t fathom it
An ensnaring act
Grabbing talons
Talented career paths
Disappear fast
With mirror battling
The mere craftsmanship
And mad man’s wit
Embarrassing as still asking, unaware as to what is happening
With clear answers apparent still Years pass years after still ain’t clear after asking this
This is maddening
Reappearing patterns still amass
And thinking different things will happen if in fact I can persist
The same **** happens
That ****’s batshit
What if
This madness catches
That is bad
As lit matches
Catching mattress lint
I fear I did damage to my
Amygdala oblongata as a kid
Again and again
Damm habits
I amass amazing
Paragraphs saturations
A hue is soothing
To translucent humans
Like my time as a youth spent
School bench doodling
Pulled the blue pen through the movements maneuvered cerulean loops drew huge dudes and exuberant protruding ***** for my youths amusement
Nowadays I fetching the meddling
Red pen sent from heaven making corrections, leveling mistakes begging for a reckoning, making more of less, settling scores, enabling communications less deafening, less beckoning, helping to get a sense of my best and when i left my element. what I might write with my white pen is


enticing I think.
I can dream up
A story told time and time

She waits for somebody else
She's well kept, well dressed
Red dress, red lace caress her arms, sitting with legs crossed across the bar
And this my story to tell
So I say she’s a redhead
And by no means a means to an end
Keeps herself under her own agency

She chooses her sutors or men
I get her because she gets me

A weight less heavy
Each day less deadly
A chase paced more steadily
A waiting for change

Maybe today
I meet that special lady
That pretty Penny
That sense of making
Change more weighty
waiting less
on anybody elses
Heavy chains to break off
When the the day is done
And I get a break

But today
I was late because I overslept
Once again
And now I never get to meet
This lady made up of the stuff dreams are made of
After hours
Sitting just across the way
Because today I get laid
Spun as she drunk from wrong cup… Dot dot dot
****** up
Cut from mind, torn ******
Love song, rough one
Nylon, cries, both died inside
Thoughts of Mom & pops
Someone’s loved one, pop club wub wub dub dub
“Love” drugs, ****** up…
Kiss these ellipses
Keep being strong

First off, I hate this
I want to be able to say this, face to face
I keep second guessing myself
Unable to formulate even basic sentiments
I respect you, although I never felt you taught me to respect myself
As my own worst enemy, it's your words I use to hurt myself endlessly.

Secondly, even my efforts against this me, have had little more effect than a restless peace. I have fought the steppenwolf bracingly, even embraced the peace. But I’ve yet to eradicate the behavioral mistakes I make, it seems. I get stuck doing wrong turns, sonder under undercurrents, waves circle back on themselves again and again indefinitely.
I help myself get upset, get wet,  drown myself in debt. Then beg, for you helping me. And that you did, amazingly. So this is a thank you, I guess.

I love you, won't ever love you any less.
And I am a rain dog, stuck in perpetual everchanging groundhog days. My missteps surprises no one but myself.
No help from anyone else will change this me. I am able direct myself once again, i’ve led myself astray. Make amends, make a straightaway out of this ever bending way, which could end up, ending me.
I've been blazing through these pages, a daily duty
Wit withered away with daily doobies
These ladies with beautiful names
I use to make use of any human, I met who moved me
But these ladies, these brainy beauties
With grace and ageless folly
With so much to give
And so much to take in
Plainly makes me amazed
And jolly, I guess in a way they taught me
And to never waste waning words with
Vain and cocky tales of some form of me
I’ve felt, but never comfortably
Especially not to these brainy beauties
Jaw dropping dripping hotties
Hot chocolate melting on top
Of a fugde sundae
Hot and cold,  every sensation felt
As they enter and escape from me
The best blend
Blessed I guess
Best left to rest
These brainy beauties
With grace and booties
Hi i’m Sebastian
i’m an addict
Addicted to frantic
Spastic language  

After ages
Of Procrastinating
i lacked the panache.
But as of lately

That is changing
My imagination
Have replaced the
Manic *******,

The crass habit of
Having laughs
From dating
A relaxing
Callous lady

By an affidavit

Now i’m Exasperated
i amass amazing
Paragraphs’ saturation

A translucent human
Finds a hue soothing

Like my time as a youth spent
School bench-doodling
i pulled the blue pen

Through the movements
Maneuvered cerulean loops
Drew crude dudes and
Exuberant protruding *****
For a youths amusement

Freud’s lament meant that
A pen is a *****
i comment these tittles of i’s
Are eyes at a zenith
With these i see things

Don’t ask what an asterisk is
But believe me i’ve seen it
The things he does for love, he’s wont to let it walk across all forms of cusps in his thoughts. Or cross all sorts of borders in his head. He wants to overcome. This is what he’s lauded for. It won’t be what he does it for.

He finds heights frightening. Climbing. Hiking. Any altitude above sea level makes him feel unsettled. He’s fearful. He presses a hand to his chest, lets his breath settle into a better pace. Greenish shades paints his cheeks, pale in the face. A ghastly grimace. Visions. Images. Picturing himself slipping, or tripping into the ominous abyss. And even worse that she falls with him.

Frivolous lips kisses his temple, those rosey lips makes him less fretful. Holding her hand helps him stand, helps him settle. The lips asks if perhaps they should turn back. His hand relaxes before further clenching his grasp. Tells himself that there’s no turning back, he claims it would be wasteful. For him to overcome they would need to press through.

“I do this for you”
Another Creative Writing exercise, where a piece of association flow-writing should be reversed and adapted into a new text. The four words I chose was "Hiking. Climbing. Frightening heights".

Additionally, Rammstein's "Rosenrot" really inspired the narrative
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