Brimming with defiance,
the silence of dragging wrath,
wrap warped wrath.
Writing wants on a page,
just to meet the daily deadline.
deals a broken. Bespoken, and my robot heart wreaks choices chosen chortling chucking up guts in the street, of stress I know nothing because its just being plugged in an visiting friends and my body language.
Magical birds, the cloud, suicide broaching realities with no significant stylistic parable.
The third year awash with the ease of it all.
“I wanna come over and fuck you to bits”
“Let me cum on your tits”
What the fuck are these feelings all about?
Why am I always choosing the psycho? Cracked.
Smiles in the shopping mall.
Small worlds indeed. Closing and criss-crossing.
Men with so much in common “He’s seeing his ex-wife”
Ohhhh – no good.
And unfinished unfunny.
Only halfway good is what I said or something like that and i’m not really hearing all of these things.
Or am I. The thundering downloading pillaging plowing feeling of animal sounds and a rolling flooded gorge.
Too much sun and not enough situps. “Maybe i’ll starve”
Searget, Jon my brother. No singer.
Except under my bed. and these middling lost feelings like the teenage years of lostness. Nothing solid or helpful.
Just the 9pm gentle waking sound of violins violently sounding unceremoniously into the night, into other people’s lovely non lonely lives.
Do you know knots? Nots?
NOT NOTS. JUNG or some other guy.
I haven’t got time. the book in a day routine? I wish.
I read others. Simple things and he was hung, by the swings.
Her shivvering passing grandma smile as the darkness consumed her and the devil came knocking for her sole. Soul of her feel wafting and waving in the air as he picked her up and… contempt,showing on his skeletal face, bowing down and stuffing her into a plasting bag. Innumerable strength. nOT ot not of this world.
Just like something you’ve never seen.
The old body mass vs weight of strength. un-in-a-de-calculable.
A broken figure is all the reaper gives. The devil and him rarely join.
No poker or gambling. The loss of hope and love of others, just maniacle women.
Mandibles of my lostness closing around my neck- on the swings on the swings on the swings. I am between chains. A tangent most bold.
Cordially I come knocking. Knowing I haven’t worked hard enough.
No exams really. But my stresses bloom in my eyes. Ideas foil around me.
Self monitoring sickness. Beans and sugar brown my ears and eyes.
Flooding willingness surrender.
Laughing and choking. Choking and laughing.
Spittle, blood, purple, fluttering eyelids, slits… then globes.
Wide eyed. Crystalline whiteness. Brilliance encompassed.
My right and leg, competition of an uninspired, deflated left leg.
Talk work, talk work talk work.
fuck you fuck everything
this is all bullshit.
this typing this route.
The horrible lost and recklless fuckless reckoning of giving a shit about any single thing and why cant this just be continiups and not caring. throw it all out the window and become better at the things I want to become better at like being free. Honest brave happey healthy and inspired.
Smoking car. Bad shoes. Undeliable hair and so much sitting.
no winning no drinking/ Where is my boss, my manager. Hopeful destressed alaxck vomiting on my hands and rubbbingirubbing it all in until these rears are infected with my insides or funning running oils of want and persecution runs like a hot rash down my jaw and the car crashes off the bridge.
My exhuasted knees give out and the pen writes on my wrist a writ of life dispelled/ Red pen blue pen green pen black pen.
Ben gone wrong Bill eat me. Fuck you fuck you fyck you.
South of it all. Shouting at the night, the daylight. Strangling animals, children like foil. Seeing myself and asking what the difference is. Pulling over because and ambulance needs to rush by. I’m a vbad driver roll with it for god sake fuckkkkkK! !!IOjzosdkhfs WHat is this just be free no comofjweofgkqa[p no como4utgfopg
No compter skills literacty clotts of language behind the veil I just want it all to end and the psp pree spree. Before it all goes gund and gonzo.
Fun fun fun of the fin gone wrong.
rags and why can’t I just let the person die.
Now I wonder if I can just bubble along like normal- scaring every single person. A flake and jandice poxy pointed stranger. With nothign to share but a vast strange uncontrolled energy. A capacity for nothing sustained. I am the human condition . with bent back and callus feet. Trodden for too many moons over glass and broken things. A cement of the ground not meant of this world. By animalian suffering. A sex slave of the fucked geeration. Broad pools of physical failing. And all you want to do is get high? What is that about? When can we get real, hold each-other and get real? Too soon>?! SAOOWHAT
How can you be this way. How can you break so many hearts without one that functions. LOVE ME? LOVE ME. HOW how could you, or anyone or me? I am sick.
SIck of you of life of anyone and anything. and the running tension of my temple. This body of mine, fumes and toxic. Foiled rolling apple of sultana and sugar. Fats and loathsome situations fold in on themselves.

I make my bed. Rest and hope for a better day.
Rest in peace.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s