I am not me
We are not us
My body is but a skin cage

I am a blob of flesh and muscle
Oddly formed and named
A person called—?


Meant only to think and control
We dress ourselves up as doll
The fleshy bone and muscles covered in a layer of identity
I am still a mere entity

We are not anything
I am not more than ideals and assumptions
My ribs are cage
My mind is made by design
I am not me

And god forbid we are someone or something

I am a idea
I am my cage
I am no one
We are not us

Profundity is found
in the simple, everyday
occurrences that our
human brains apply
immense meaning to.

SIP A BUNCH OF TEA , HOPE THAT I DON'T GET FULL,
AT THE HATTERS TABLE ,
HOPING THAT I'D FIND TO DESIGN MY OWN WORLD
BELOW,
LOOKING FOR LIFE'S ENDEAVORS,  GREED AND POWER
LIKE A MAD MAN,
BUT YOU WANNA' LIVE FOREVER?*

I put myself on the line like way too many times,
I've made a bed for myself,  yet still more rise and
shines,
There is no room for error,
Brain mechanics is fine,
Could take the fire and heat,
But I'm a water sign,
Family don't care that much , that shows over time,"

My brain is the prettiest crown,
My head will ever adorn.

Make the squirming stop
Hit it with a rock
These feelings I can't quell
They're pointless now to tell
I don't want to suppress
That I failed to impress
How you make me feel
I wish you'd just reveal
If I could make you swell
I know you're stuck in hell
You might not even see
Me trying to please
Should I give up?
Or fight through this muck?

Sometimes I feel so immature
Watching myself in the mirror
Painting my eyes
Through the scars
Of the tears
I'm shedding alone
But I like these scars
They remind me of my soul
Sometimes I forget I have one
I think we all do
But we all have a soul
And this soul can get hurt
Over the emptiest
Most meaningless
Minor things
But we keep forgetting we have one
Still hurt
We feel the pain
But our brain tells us
That we're immature
And I feel immature when I paint my scars
Just to feel pretty
When I see other girls unpainted
Clear
Without scars
And I wish I felt jealous
But I love my scars
They remind me
That I can be broken and alive
At the same time
That it takes a million seconds
To get through every thought
That conquers my mind
That my eyes might seem dead
But are so full of life
I wish someone noticed them
I wish I was something for someone
I wish they saw my soul
I wish they saw how broken and alive
I can be
But they just see my scars
They paint new ones
And I collect them
Like compliments
If I was pretty
And when I paint
The last inch of my face
I plan my smile
Do I even know how to smile?
Should I also start collecting smiles?
Sometimes I feel immature
For letting my thoughts swallow me
Are we all immature?
I always chase what I think
My brain deserves
And it's just rotten pieces
Of my past selves
But at the same time
I'm evolving
Behind the glass that shows me
My painted face
My painted eyes
My hidden soul
My scars
Can you see my scars?
If you can,
will you protect them,
or will you make new ones?,
Both will bring tears
So go ahead ,
Here are
My scars.

I'm a bend, bending

the road to the right and left --


simultaneously.

Seemingly out of nothing
small sounds of a beginning
are popping and plucking

in the pool of my thoughts

atoms of observation
in the infinite void
of my mind

my universe in the multiverse

intersecting image-
particles that connect
to coherent thoughts

I knead, mix and bend them

until they smile
or I let them burst
for a new beginning

BucketheadLand...
Once you try it, you won't go back but will come back.

When BUCKETHEAD SOLOS everything is spinning,
makes my headroom wonders: is my head or the room?
Awesome Awkwardness Award won through unanimous vote
by bucketbots and scared chickens, coming in a bucket UFO,
from Bucketheadland in our Brain... Brian Buckethead.

He wins all day every day, but hey...
Who is keeping count?