No matter what I write it will be off.
The words wont come out. Its all a miss.
Miss miss miss. Bad guy firing at good guy. What I mean, the discussion, the act the direction. The stolid thought. And all words are yellow shirt. Memory lost, my knee and failing body.
Adrift and ill.
Meds might not help.
I flat line. Standing in a circle asking questions.
Expectations low. Outputs.
Worth, value and meaning.
Three word outputs for power and standing and words.
nonsense, nothing and death.
Classical height of hierarchy.
And I cried.
Misty eyed. Banana in hand.
The oven on.
Spotted advice warms my heart,
swollen like the lids of my tired eyes.
I’m just tired.
These emotions are real because of this state.
And the weakness is flooding.
That is the fucking technical term.
My fears and phobias mingle.
This working man, cooks for me.
I give my thanks.
Right tired. Worried.
Lost afraid, making plans.
Due poverty, sales and sadness.
How does a father sell his kissed fish.
Banana punching, stolen maidens of birth and breadth.
Forgetting names faces and directions.
What do I need?
Anger rage a new new knew knee.
Lost and fuming.
Rolled out, for a night.
Drags and the dregs and giving.
Speed and drugs to the fat, lost and wasted.
Blowing kisses to people I don’t know or like or love.
And the people I desire are shallow.
My ladder is lost rickety and blowing in the wind.
Wickets and bails, blow in the flow of-
Fuss of cliffs.
And I rage. Suicide saved my life.
coming soon .The joke of many levels.
Blowing loads of steam and
and the less hot.
ahahahahahahah an an and and
d d d d d d d d
frustration, eyes and the male gaze and gays and
patients and worth and the system.
A list of lack understandings.
Chaos and untapped missed opportunities and
all and and and.
Change I need to gettaway.
Nail biting and caring.
Humanity and feardom.
The fee of it all.
Ties me down with the sporradic worm.
Work work work until you’re old and cracked and totally passed it.
No chilled ability to just rest and the future awaits us-
wasted loves and lack of energy.
Misses and missus.
Dancing on twisted smiles-
Vomit in the sink. Attacking cubical walls.
Kicking flags and glasses filled with ice.
Nothing nice to say or impart and the drink hits.
Walking alone, laces clicking.
Feet rapping, skilled skidding and the dye of the day leaks.
I am a vegetable, no levels but a platform on which I barely carry.
Heartbeat- muted and the threat of sickness away away.
Its deeper, but covered in fat and illness.
Legs and blubber and all that clings to me.
Unwell. Well well,
digging wells into my past.
Seeking out my strife.
Receipts and rules and the language that I don’t understand.
I just want to look everyone in the eyes.
I want to do that.
Why is that strange.
Wrong and off in our culture. Ugly.
Because that isn’t normal maria! I know what you;rethingk thinwink with ythose those dark eyes featuringing in my dreams of whales. batting them away in a glacial tide of batons and attack attack attack. And the people that surround me are uniformed and my white skin is a restriction and history and prejudice, power and anger flood me and I can’t talk to anyone about the coke. The black white while bubbling substance of red blood’s link to the infinity of suffering. And my care, my coping power mechanisms are disarmed while I dream and the fire alarm; its battery dead or removed, only wakes and resonates in the webs of spiders and the trapping nets of society that flow in the breeze- aloft in the stratosphere. Ironically bubbling babbles of flags float free as lanterns, the anal retentive me learns 5 new names and I am stuck. Wanting more from people. Maybe we can all just try to stand there and make light of this market. You buy mushrooms and I wish we could somehow just join hands and get along on a topic. Communication for comforts sake. There is no we in this ironic ionicsphere. Exterior to our natural cell. And sell and cell we do. Our time down the river. Black, white and bubbling. Molten down our throats as we haven’t blown on the oven baked blackened banana. Bands sing of a side. But there is only the young fire in our hearts from when we were commuting freely with nature in our limbs. One legged spins on ice that will melt and be thrown amongst us. I make prayer with my hands but over head, no amount of flapping of scissoring will cut out this feeling in my heart. Bleeding, but not to the right places.
No snow angels can save us.
-today there was no we. No connexion.
lost lost love. And the wallow of old thoughts, feelings and emotions.
Curses and voodoo riddle my rotten brain.
Limbs creak and the cream of my efforts drowns me in the ethical dilemma.
Put yourself out there and murder yourself.
Achievements and nothing, converse.
look me in the eyes. React react react.
Darling. Dark dark darling. Pursing my dehydrated lips.
Lost eyes and weak meats.
Minced words, work at staking lives.
Mince steaks like hearts punctured with loss and illegitimacy.
Water, wasted words and all the worries of my scientific silence.