love
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When will it get old?
The more days that pass it’s me that ages. I stuff myself in holes of immaturity and self doubt, buying my way into the fancies of life. When will it get old? Maybe in due time—maybe never. I don’t mind the fits of sadness and despair—craving, desire, and moments of…
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Stream of Consciousness #2
this is a stream if consciousness one I was never good at streams of consciousness but conscious in the unconscious how could I have known? conscious but not conscious, conspicuous indeed. Soft layered flasks torching singling circling loving word bladder blabber dripping off noses of random words and skin this…
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I’M BLOW TORCHING MY LIFE
AND IT’S ALL ON PURPOSE! Action. Real action; is all I crave. Why must I be like this? A poet? at best. An ARTIST of life; painting my days as the most beautiful gruesome scene there is. Art. HA! Something I know nothing of—-sure. And that is why while you’re…
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Rip my soul out my chest
Because it feels like I can’t breathe. Distract me from my mistakes because it’s getting hard to see; contemplating therapy. God has a chokehold on me while the humans of this world pick at every scab on my skin. Is it sad I enjoy it? Is it sad I enjoy…
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The night is young and so am I;
as I sit in the middle of this space listening to songs in languages that aren’t my first. A show I watched yesterday told me something only I could hear. It said something along the lines of: I’m so fixed on this idea I have for my life, what I…