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so
people say that there are things
    objects
    abstracts
    other people
    earth's natural boundaries and bounties
that urge  or maybe converge the mind
into action - though most probably think the act,
they reverie in what they dream as exceptional.

so
here is an ideal,
a prototype esteemed
like that emblazoned scrap of paper
with the birth names and letters
dotdotdot etc ...

so, tell me
are you aspiring
or laying deep
in the molds ?
will it buy you a ring for your trophy ?
will it make you prolific ?

we would not know happiness,
if only for the grand stories
told to us of our entitlement
to enjoy our senses. well,
look at this container,
you were perfectly crafted
to roam
with intention, across all spaces
conquistadoring and
expanding and
'destroying to create'
whatever the **** that means

and never learning not to rear our ugly heads
to the paradise
breastfeeding
us,
or to the processing
keeping us bred
nice and tidy.

so
there is the ambiguous person again,
and is there something wrong with monotony,
does it imply a good in consistence
does it lend translation to the static
     (coming up and out of your roaring mouth;
           he is an angel, i grant it worth.)

so
be inspired by feeling.
that dumpster over yonder is what it
is, as your lobes transmit
and lucidly self actualize ::

i am not here to convince anyone
but myself.
tread Aug 2013
I vowed to say nothing
but know this: I love you. I love you more than waking up at 5 AM after a night of camping, the smell of dewey cold conquistadoring my blunt and modern senses. I love you more than the girl who haunted my every waking moment for months after the solvent collapse. I love you more than when someone says, ‘you’re the most beautiful person I know.’ I love you more than the taste of freshly ground arabica bean on a cold winter morning, watching the snow flit past the window like little paratrooper angels here to spread the word of pristine silence. I love you more than nights spent watching the stars with a morning empty of obligation. I love you more than my crack addiction to knowledge. And you know who you are.
And when I write vaguely of someone I love

 I hope you remember 


It’s you, you beautiful freak of my life.
It’s you, it’s you, it will always
be you.
a special thanks to the greatest thing to ever happen to me

I love you.

— The End —