A broken clock is right twice a day, but there is no time
at which a broken windshield is useful. In my peripheral
vision, the cracks could be lightning, but Minneapolis
is not as interested in drama as I am. Somewhere, not here,

it is raining. It would be great if it would rain on me
because then there would be a reason I felt like garbage
right now. There's always of course, a reason, but it would be
nice to say It's raining in my head rather than

I have a chemical inbalance in my brain or I just remembered
that someone I love will die before I do. All of downtown
is underneath the sky. If you spend

long enough in one place you will eventually be hit
by lightning. Because it's not real lightning
we're discussing here, stay longer and you will
be hit twice. Never move, ever. You might go somewhere

there us no lightning. It might not rain there at all.

If you
Look at these
Handfuls of
What I have
To give
But your own
Palms are empty
Please, don't

If I'm willing
To give myself
Entirely to you
But you'll only
Take what
You can get
Please, don't

I want to save
My enegry
For better things
Please, be honest.

l.v.s

My life is usually unraveling quietly inside various states of disarray

Its my own doing and I am a professional

I know I sound self absorbed and self afflicted

I hope I didn't steal your time

I am a lot of things

but I am not a thief

I suppose I could take comfort in some small consistencies streaming through our species

In comparison to the time we spend dodging trains

Or pursuing another 0rgasm with an animalistic momentum

This is light speed fleeting

Still

Only a small step away from creating black holes

Anyway...

I say obsessive compulsive disorder

the red tape says crazy

I say these 60 hours of consciousness are the product of a restless mind

the white suits say its surely a chemical inbalance

but upon what scale are they operating?

(eyebrows raised in disbelief)

THE SCALE OF SANITY OF COURSE

oh

The only thing that provokes a serious need for vacancy in my life

Is full pockets

That's not a half baked metaphor

nor is it an obscure display of nerves crumbling

...forever deconstructing inside a failed attempt at demonstrating the burdens of existence

I really cannot stand crowded pockets

My lifestyle does not accommodate such a condition

Tobacco boxes and plastic flames

Cheap contraptions for times subtraction

A wallet absent of evil

Still

Chalk full of all the proper identification for existing

and depending on the day

The necessary tools for twisting reality into compliance

A touch screen distraction full of pain and despondency

Its disgusting I know

we all stay cozy and space phone faded

When I come home

The first thing is excavating pockets

an act of defiance towards my own brain

I throw it everywhere

my disease has broken three phones

This has no purpose

Nor does is contain the thread of my own insecurities

its merely the ramblings of a mind finally breaking

its clearly time for the sleep that keeps eluding my trajectory

it will be a microscopic moment on a backdrop full of faceless collisions

My off switch is stuck on the green light

I wish I could wake up for a sun rise

instead of avoiding it like a criminal caught up in circumstance

My mind is racing, the finish line is just a little farther. My heart stretches but can't reach. It can't reach the goal I've strived to accomplish. For it only shadows and scars those who love. Theres fear in my head, theres pain in my ashure eyes. This strange feeling scares me. It scars a heart that has been through hells unremorse. No hand nor heart could heal its wounds, only true hearts can heal the broken. A dark heart only fails to realize the reality behind its darkness and hate. Beyond the crowd, is where the creed resides. The true Kings and Queens of the Heart. My heart is in an inbalance with its soul that keeps it beating. With one knife ******, it could end. With one bullet, it could be no more. The true heart must reside, and survive the greatest feat its ever known. Strange lives are lived today, but only the shadow of that demon remains. Within its snare is a lonely soul, with no love that remains.

sometimes i let go.
not in the way you probably think,
and definitley not all at once.
i’m not crazy,
even though the chemical inbalance
in my head says different.
i let go a little bit at a time.
first, i let go of the healthy relationships
i once had
down the garbage disposal just like the ones before.
next i’ll let go of my job
and every opportunity
i have worked so hard to accomplish.
i’ll throw away my belongings
and my photographs
and my memories.
i’ll purge my life of every good thing
that reminds me of how good i used to feel and how bad i feel in the moment.
i’ll make mistakes
that seem more like a decision that
needed       to       be         made...

a week will pass,
or maybe just a day or two...
and then i will realize that i just tossed
my entire existence into the trash.
i’ll make everything to be
as close as it was before,
and ill feel **** good doing it.
and then when **** hits the fan,
i’ll
      let
             go.
it’s what i’m good at.

Logic dictates that if there is one immortal
Then all of us are immortal, as we are all one mind
This includes the others
Not only those of our kind
In energy, no dissipation
It can only reform, travel another path
So for those who lengthen their span, increase assets
Creating inbalance, I will say
We will all meet again another day

Love makes you greedy.

Two worlds collide. And slowly come together to become one.

You can't not expect an explosion when planets come crashing into one another. So when the two start to engulf each other, conflicts begin.

You can't help but feel an inbalance.
But love is never about equal feelings but rather both fueling the love together without regards to calculations.
However when insecurities kick in, you see how they seem to feel less passionate than you do and their world engulfing more of yours than you are theirs.

We then start to ask for more.
But did not realise it was never about how much was given.
It was always just bliss and enjoying of company and times together.

But sometimes,
we become greedy
we want more
but did not realise
we already have everything we need.

We already have them.

For every action, there is reaction
for every attraction, there is distraction but every little fraction has a faction in fiction hmm, let me check my diction

Every portion has its distortion
of inbalance and contortion
Tip lipped rhymes served for abortion

Robbery of meaning and motion
is the deliverance of emotion
Accrued in a love potion
..hpm!, such devotion

But if you characterize deflection
you might see a reflection, or a fragment of protection, in a starry eyed selection

This format is causing congestion, a congestion fiddling with digestion
which will lead to exhaustion
but I'm up for suggestion or question