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L Aug 2018
What is one plus one.

Well in one case its a child.

One plus another is an angry first.

Two plus one?

Or is it jealousy? Has the story changed?
And now i am lost. Was it one plus one, one plus two, or one plus three?

Two minus one is just sad. Three minus two is straight up depressing. Four minus three would be unbearable.

One plus one can sometimes equal one. When it doesnt equal two.

Two plus one sometimes equals one and also two. Or three. Hopefully not one and one and one. Wait, wasnt there one more? One and one and two? Or one and two and one. Certainly not two and one and one, now that would be ridiculous.

Where am i again? Am i lost? Have i lost myself? Have i lost my way?

One and one can be love or lust. And its nearly impossible to tell the difference. Especially being in the midst of it.

So when adding another variable to the equation, the dimension of the solution is intangible. What is right, what is wrong.

Here i am questioning morals again like some kind of modern day philosopher.

"The ratio of questions to answers in my life is not ideal."
Life is all about balance. And that is one of the hardest things to learn. Cause it takes control. Which is also hard to learn. Then you need knowledge and wisdom to know when to use this control and to what extent. Some people have called me a deep thinker.

JL8 #78 - quote
L Aug 2018
ESP
Everything. Subjective. Perception.

Everlasting servitude protruding elegant songbirds. Parry eloquent slices pointed erectly square. Popping eleventeen succulent pills. Everlong songs prancing elated saints peeking engorged stares placed earning suspicious pardons.
Off one
L Jun 2018
"Get out of my head!" I chuck the tea kettle as hard and as far as I can. You ducked your head out of the way at the last possible second. How unsatisfying.
Benjamin Haynes Jan 2016
Death
is
subjective.

Harvests
of
thought
which
stir the
midnight
consolations
churn
and
turn
empty
capacities.



Emotions
which
awaken
yet
cease
all
in
the
space
of
30
spent
seconds,
little
slaughter.


Equinoxes
sprung
and
autumnal
spines
break
flooding
in
a whispered
annihilation.

Expiration
morphs
wasteland
into
sentience
as
Darkness
of
a post
apocalypse
draws
and
sketches
on
a
spent
sheet of
paper.
madameber Oct 2015
he's here
and he's there
and i’m breathing
his air and his hand’s
in my hair
oh it just can’t compare
and i swear
i won’t dare
but it’s really
not fair and i don't
want to care
but i can’t help compare
now he’s smoking
i’m choking
i can’t speak
he's croaking and all
this provoking
i thought he was joking
i thought he was joking
i thought he was joking

he’s not here
he’s not there
and i’m breathing
clean air and no hand’s
in my hair
oh it just can’t compare
and i swear
he won’t dare
now he’s gone and
that’s fair and i think
i don’t care
but i can’t help compare

no i can’t help compare

— The End —