to does, it really does. Feel like weeks.
Coming home tonight and thinking to myself, word document or notepad, pat, diary? Oh yeah a new diary. But writing it down there, you are too lazy to find it again. It just sits next to your bed until the next day, then you fill it in; and move on. Forgetting, forgetting, forgetting.
every time, standing at the urinal. Any one person with a need, thought or want visits this spot. The spot where we drain. Drain and forget. And think.
I think a lot in the bathroom. Or atleast I feel I do.
New thoughts, overthoughts, weird and wonderful.
“do you ever wonder where we all go after dinner”
“the go home, alone by whatever means their mood”
and they cry. They cry because they are dying and even in someones arms,
With the surgeon clutching your beating heart. You die. Alone.
The energy ran flat.
that beautiful blonde. Bombshell.
Will deflected that wonderful young lady.
Hugo porking in the park.
my ride home.
what were those fruit.
My food choices. Ripples though me. But on what molecular level.
Can these basic models be taught to me,
Can I understand more? Is it so simple? Is it maths?
what can my choices, decisions and actions do?
Is it possible to trace what I do?
Will someone see that bottle of wine?
Later down the track, history’s echo?
Take off those high heels. Straight out the door,
of society. You poor girl. Fake it.
Fake it tonight, walk walk walk.
But yeah, fake it.
we all are don’t worry.
Don’t worry you aren’t.
Ask police questions.
“aren’t I O.K?”
“Can’t a man walk by himself in peace?”
questions that answer themselves.
standing around in a bar, looking looking.
the one goal.
Can you trace my movements like those in the snow?
Can’t you even see atoms?
With my yoga stance head well and truly up my medicinally minded be-hind.
Do you recall the way that molecular structure turned..
turned… and went, like so. Do you rememeber? No
Like me, and my actions.
Film? For how long. Written down? HOW LONG.
All will be dust.
Spend some time, tucked away in that corener, live it breathe it become friends and mortal enemies. Clean, dirty, the path. the stones underneath your seat. Where you are sat. The mood, the feelings that take you. As stars, wheel over head. And the brightest endures, just stands alone. Twinkling.
THOSE those feelings, that you get, flowing thought you. The ebb.
That’s not you, not coming from you. The ground, that spot. The mood.
HEADACHE. just then. .Stwang. Agg,. I’ll live. HAhaha
Luke? that guys.
LUKE LIAM. Names names names.
Smiles. Grins loud noises.
Good to see you anyway. Always got time for you and your gang.
Big big love.
There he was working at the what. The grocery store?
Holding two pineapples?
I mean shit. There he is, selling the fuck outta that place.
He’s a hospitality king. Sam. Gem.
So you can’t trace your movements. Free. Petty theft.
Free. Unwatched. Drones?
Spines, teaching water hot fit dance dance boogie like you just wanted to wombatlike old times with old gangs witness full of dance life and lights squinting hats off boat shoes kicking coats unbuckled dropletts forming creases creaks knees and arms swinging waving wildly awesome colours squint giggle chuckle laugh even. Mean it! And dance, spin and link arms if you please. Miss that girl in the big boots that isn’t there and just feel the flow, the base the only cactus in the room with its arms up. Everyone else slouched over a chain or table. Drinks on me. Said the floor. Lets laugh and admitt we’re all here wasting time. Gleefully.
I’m an artist I owe it too myself to learn music. Where do you draw the line. I’d like to get involved in all of these. I might become a teacher. Noble enough practice. Not in Australia, no travelling with that. You haven’t committed enough. BECOME A TEACHER. or just become learnered. Leant, learned, leant, leaned upon. I know knot. Scream and shout.
Shakespeare? Really do you think I could do that. What happens when terror grips you? How will the mood GRIP you. The gripper. I can be coaxed. I freely say. And it kills me. Why did I say that. Why did I do that. Why why why.
Are there more people in the world than there are in the english language?
How about English speakers vs the words in the language of english.
Maybe if we all shout one word we’ll come up with a fun answer to this life.
If there are more people, maybe there will be overlapp and the important people and the sentance, following the one true pattern, the lights, will lead us there. To understanding, ultimate. don’t end arguments in ultimates.
If there are more words than people, lets keep having children to fill the words, create a new name. Reflect the current times.
Dig the moment.
Be aware that any negative thoughts spur from the grey area of your mind that is boredom or want for something.
Unless you find yourself asking “why did they do that”
“why did it say that”
Then you are in my clear.
“IF YOU SPEAK TOO MUCH YOU ARE AN IDIOT”. – Russian Lady.
Life advice. Life lie life life life life.
Apply it all over. Exam life, cram life. Live life,
function however you please. Treat others kindly. Have a great time.
meet beautiful people. Cause trouble. Havoc
Get your troop out there and be Jack.
What was his name.
Neil Cassedy. I will follow your story.
Beat as hell, park your car. Lets have a good time.