Crackling criss-crossing blue in mind. It scissors down the lanes through the pipes and tubes and little dividers. Electrical mind numbing beauty. Veins-bursting in excited anticipation. Convulsions and scenic skittering routes. Into the Nexus! Here simmers what we are thinking and believing. Our mind's eye focuses and drips into the pool until completion. Psionic figures dance flicker through life existence. Pulse-width fluctuations. Tiny menagerie of our Will. Scribbling through dusted panes of time interface. All afire with ourselves once we have discovered ourselves. Nano-tech emotions. Hope fear anger mercy curiosity buzzing swarms of grey goo jibbering and bubbling in an artificial mind-****. What is all this allusion? Nothing complicated. Speculation on future times where sensual technological biological singularity is paramount. In my room where the clocks are taped over and the sun is dark and dim. Through the windows I see myself. The boxes on the floor emanate simple clickings with melodies intertwined casually. I myself appear redundant. I have done this and so have others. To discuss oneself is worthless unless you become convinced you are another entity gazing back across the room. I feel I am being watched. I become cautious as he may have noticed. Tingling weightlessness tickles in waves in both heads. The Jazz Classic appears. Old dark men and women in hazy environments. Organic supposition or cold observation? Both hold importance so let us appreciate it all. The cello quivers and hums with vibration. Fingers callused and riveted like the age-old corn field bother still strings. A child hums to just myself. What does he want? I never asked him for an audience. Yet he freely gives it to me. Now he multiplies. Or she? Children confuse and cause one to be apprehensive. Nothing and silence. Silence in movement. Cease my visual stimulation for a couple seconds each. The child is back. What does he speak? Pray inside the rubble? Heal in this place? In disgrace? I do not know. His octaves are meshing together. Whining and thrumming with strange alterations. Some madmen tweaks my ears. Maybe he knows the child? I'm not sure. Let us continue on. The flute is the child. Old cello, you have stopped? These musings mean nothing. I would look upon them in a year and think nothing of it. Yet it feels as if this time is important. Da Vinci knocks on the door. Not as if I wanted to talk to it. Wouldn't mind I suppose. He is gone. We talked but I do not remember the conversation. Perhaps we've all talked but we just don't remember our conversations. That's ridiculous though. Then anything is possible. We could have flown to the moon on scarlet weasels outfitted with the latest nano-pores that secreted pure liquid indulgence. And we did because I just imagined we might have. However, I don't remember actually doing it. Just what I thought it might have been like. How frustrating. My thoughts are the same as all others who write out their thoughts when under the influence of yourself. It always seems like some thing is scuttling near my feet or under the nightstand; just out of view. Strange. I would be afraid. No reason to fear that which doesn't bother me. No reason to fear much of anything. That's been said before. Why are we so often concerned with saying that which has been said before? Cliche? auump-ump auump-ump auump-ump little thumping noise in my ears. That vibration is calming. Every night I am awake. Every day I seem asleep. I do not like it but I do not care yet I allow it to be what it will. Vision defaults to out of focus. My eyes always cross if I cease trying to control them. People are strange. Animals are strange. Same thing I guess. Someone will find that clever. Someone will find it cliche. This someone won't care. ****** fantasy permeates day to day. More entertaining than living a fantasy though. ***. Not that entertaining. Perhaps no one knows how to do it properly anymore. Maybe we never did. Maybe some people are just disenchanted with it. When I'm by myself, I never have any ****** desire. When around others, I generally think of it out of curiosity: what would it be like to please the person in front of me? The only enjoyment I've had with *** would consist of pleasing another or observing another ****. The human body is intriguing. Definitely. I really do think so. Sometimes I look at my own. Not out of appreciation really. Just the fact that I have body allows me to investigate it and understand it more. Pain is merely a stage one can get past, so I suppose I injure myself sometimes to see how I react. It's like I need to check I'm still working properly. I can't tell when I'm tired. I feel something, but when I ask myself if I'm tired, I murmur back, "I don't know." Maybe that is why I stay up till early mornings? I wanted to add again that the human body is beautiful and unappealing all in the same space. Perhaps the unattractiveness and softness and strangeness produces attraction. A negative and a negative equals a positive. Three negatives likes to fluctuate. In my mind at least. I may ask another to remove their clothing and whatnot during those intimate moments. Eh, never quite feel like having *** though. I like the emotions and sensuality of just looking at someone. They usually want to physically play around with each other. I think I enjoy fighting more. One day I'll leave everyone except I'll reminisce on those I enjoyed meeting. Maybe come back and visit? I would like to ride something quickly through an empty desert. Find my own food and water. Create shelter. Think by myself. My room is the smallest desert I have and the biggest. I have more in my head but I only occupy one at a time. I suppose I like I do like things like all others. I mean, materials can be nice. If I impart meaning on to an object it gains importance. I see it vital to also say that if it were to be lost, then I wouldn't mind and I would obtain something else or nothing at all.The constitution. Just mentioned by some woman in my room. Or in my ears would be more correct. Constitutional Rights. I honestly don't see the need for them. I was criticized for burbling that once. We should not need a constitution. We should be able to do what we like to do without fear or concern. Unless natural fear and concern appears. Now that may confuse a bit. Right to bear arms. I shouldn't have to be told or allowed to massive bear arms if I feel the need to have them. Big hairy bear arms. Curious little mishap. Freudian slip as Johnny said once? Danger Danger. Anyway, Right to bare arms. I shouldn't have to be told, as I look back,  go back and throw in that comma after told, that I'm allowed to bare arms and defend myself. I'll just do it if the need arises. Freedom of speech. That already has many issues these days. However, there shouldn't have been a need to tell people they have freedom of speech. Speech should have been freely allowed and never oppressed in  the first place. Theme? We have erred so much in the past and I would think sometimes we ignore that and just try make little cosmetic fixes by saying it's okay. Another point. Hold that: side discomfort. I sometimes feel like a little spider or creature is crawling or skittering on my leg under the covers or I'll change the music to Galaxy 2 Galaxy 90's hi-tec jazz there we go. Done! Now back! Or I forget what I said about the spiders. Another point: what? ******, curse damnable ****. Can't recollect what it was I was connecting together. Something that tied in to deceiving people into things are okay. I could go on about consumerism and all that jazz. Instead I'm listening to some techno-jazz whatever-decided-to-call-it. Hyphenated phrases are fun when I decide they are appropriate. English and grammar in such can be cool but at the same time I want to say **** it and stay proper. Do both. Acknowledge how to write and speak "correctly," but as long as someone understands what you are trying to say, then why correct more? Someone large doesn't like the fact I make a lot of noise in the morning. I stole some speakers and subwoofer from the room next to me as I was going to say Austin.  They are on the floor and whichever large person lives below me is probably annoyed or was. I don't spend any of my actual time despising them, but I'll easily say I despise them when someone asks. Otherwise it isn't worth wasting time on. Perhaps the vibration quivers downstairs and shakes them silently. The greate beast is perturbed and sneaky vibrations cause electro-annoyance! Her pulsewidth as I understand it must be like a super-saw as I think it. Silence. Some woman said it's just a feeling. HEA not sure what why I put that sounds like a garageband song. Switched to Inspiration! That is what I did this night. Finally start writing and making things again. Even though I never did and always did. My head sometimes hurts from thinking. Never truly though. Gotta say those things to keep the conversation going. That is really the only reason I say anything. To keep the conversation going. Otherwise I'd just watch people and be just fine. Just yelled "bahh," out loud (didn't sound the comma) because I felt the need or the want. Same. Wrong keys erased. sdas=a====dddddddddd Sorry. Oh well. Oh My. How the time flies goodbye. Going nowhere. Could write more but I felt the slight flicker of wanting to stop. So I do. What an ending. Now I'm only typing to continue the conversation with myself. Just thought ******* sounds good melody. Do as I sayt way to go good job. STOPSDMFA

****** a

Guess I'll read this little conundrum I wrote up. Stop writing ******. Stop EDITING

What a glorious, fabulous, wonderful  day,



Captured in memories, forever to stay.



The sun is winking at me, high in the sky,



The palm trees are waving, as I pass them by.



The birds are singing songs just for me,



And the river is babbling away to the sea.



All the dogs are wagging their fluffy tails,



A boat passes by and puffs out her sails.



The flowers bob their heads to say hello,



You cannot help but go with the flow.



The daisies are crazily paving  the lawns,



A sleepy lizard opens his mouth and yawns.



Silver fish are darting and jumping for joy



Honeybees too buzzy, no time to annoy.



Butterflies soar and flicker their wings



Cicadas tap dancing to their clickings.



Under a blanket of blue, I view the whole scene,



My heart pure bliss, my mind serene.



For there you are with the warmth of your smile,



And together in this day we can rest awhile.

Waiting rooms with gray walls and spotted brown carpet,
Scattered with crying babies and outdated magazine stands
Tideous clickings of pens on clipboards writing in medical histories

Everyone is waiting on something here
and for the first time, I don't feel sick in the lobby

Smooth words with hungry conversation stay my new elixir
While the impulses in my brain dispell
and the world dwindles into states of impertinence

Who knew good company could soothe the cure for a neuromaniac

Have you heard, heard of the clickings?
The clickings that clatter together to cause mischievious misconduct
Yes, though, how did you know what I was going to say?
Hahahaha, Just privy insight second guessing the other half of your insticts.
wrap me up in a paper bag, and
forget me behind the back wheel
Let those carrion carry my weight on
fir a spell.
Less high than I'm now

To my dearest father,
I love you.

Between that untouched stack of papers,
this bouquet of flowers.
The soft mumbles of words,
and a squeeze of your hand.
Your endearing embrace of another.
There is your love.

This warmth of one's heart,
the catalyst of love,
misunderstanding sinks,
with well-mannered intentions.
Thoughts forming into nothingness,
my mere words.

Well, comfort has a taste.
It waits, like a steaming bowl of soup,
filled to the brim with love.

It's a hug so tight it swallows oneself,
mixed with untucked collars,
mismatched socks,
and the rushing to be untangled and free,
this struggle to stay awake.
Alive.

Your hand is cold,
my heart, warm and fuzzy on the inside.
Quiet exchanges,
hearty laughs,
and clickings of a pen.

A bed, a home, empty.
Patiently waiting,
lingering for an everlasting later.

Beeps of the unknown echo,
and I sit quietly,
just the two of us.
But I am lonely,
With only but the sea and the sky for company.

This sliver of hope engulfs the room,
and wraps around like a coat,
a few sizes too big, always.

The weight of a human soul,
this intangible kindness of his beating heart,
with a world of love to offer.
A good man.
That, I say,
was my father.

A breathless life, left there lying.
Filled with chatterings of the lost,
one you will never meet again,
forever intertwining the silence,
slipping into a cacophony of noise.

A hesitation, slowly dying.
But what not is a sweet nothing,
without this message spoken from my heart?
Surrounded by consoling words,
uneasy goodbyes.
I had promised you, and only you,
an unspoken story, this lie.

A sky above, soundlessly crying.
These missed memories you will never make,
and the loneliness of solitude,
a longing for a friendship,
simply for your love once more.

It's quiet.
I shiver.
Awaiting, hoping.
The living dead don't toil for long,
and there are warmer places than in your arms.

Drowning, dying in a memory,
one that isn't quite mine,
but isn't quite his either.
There wasn't a day you weren't by my side,
but time awaits none.

The string of fate tied us together,
one soulful dream.
Happiness had known nothing, until it met you.
That is, until you fell.
Fell to the skies you did,
off this lonesome earth,
away from me.
All hushed, quiet, unmoving.

Still, your heart beats.

Someone's on the other side, a shadow.
Watching, waiting, wanting to be let in.
A mirror, a reflection, holding back myself, keeping the unlocked door close.

And then.
A knock.
The unlocked door, left slightly ajar.
I slowly peek my head inside.
This darkness, my fear.
It's you.

The shadow, this man, it smiles.
He sits, he stays,
he whispers, to me.
Now, and forever more,  
I am lost,
scattered among the stars.
Roaming the sea above,
far, far away,
until the end of time.

Yet.
Whenever I seem to fade,
remember this, and never, ever, forget.
My eternal promise, my parting gift.
A comfort, these string of simple words,

I love you too.