I think

that It's just me, or is every time I chew my gum my temples ache?

When I woke up this morning
As I looked at the magazine clippings up above my head
hanging from a single thread on my ceiling,
I couldn't fucking remember how they got there.
I know IIII put them there, but where, why and how did I get them?
I know Derrick gave me them, but I don't know why.

WHYWHYWHY

WHY THE FUCK CAN'T I REMEMBER ANYTHING.

Someone help, seriously.
I can't remember what happened yesterday
I can't remember what the fuck I ate for dinner
If I even ate. . .oh my god.

I'm clueless.
I don't remember why I like 0.5 led pencils
I don't remember why I prefer pens over pencils now. I don't remember I don't remember I don't remember. I could type that a thousand times before I actually can recall something.

I think before I went to bed last night is why I don't. It's to blame.
When I'm really stressed, I picture my whole entire body on a green chalkboard.
Yknow, the ones from elementary school?
Yeah, I'm naked. Fully UN-CLOTHED and there's a floating eraser, erasing my body part by part nostril by nostril. x2 everything.

If I were you, I wouldn't do this.
Because you might accidentally wipe your memory clean.

QUESTION EVERYTHING!
-why?

Just a thought

If you were there, if you were just there
inside the boat
you wouldn't vomit from being sea sick.
can we touch the water without getting
blisters
on our skin?
can we eat the honeysuckle
without being
poisoned?
what if we all are
living to
die?
The air from the boat is tapping me on the shoulder.
The shackles from these linked, rusty, chains are digging down to the bone.
I think of the smiling faces that used to be me standing on the
other side of the
bars.
On the island, catching fish,
rainbows in my eyes.
plaque & whiteness, on my
teeth.
Freckles on my skin,
overalls on my body.
Denim scabs,
freckled memories,
white fading eye-balls.

If you were a human, how would you live your life?
-very filthy.

And,

And there it was. Beautiful as ever. As I'd ever dreamed of
My blood is boiling over the top, and all I can do really is look straight up while my body rests in the cool dead grass along with the dead bodies 9 ft. below me.
The concrete tomb stones staring at me, analyzing my every move.
The live flesh.
They're sick of getting pooped on by crows. They're utterly sick of having to sit for hours and hours on end protecting what lies beneath the crust of the ground.
They're flightless, and someone other than here.

It's stretching and it never ends.
It goes on for miles just like the ocean.
Just when you think you see the ending point; the horizon; it stretches even further.
It's rotating, it's been for a while.
The soft puffy cotton balls we survive off of just float
stare at all of us walking along with gravity.
Laughing until they cry sometimes, or even just cry.
They have feelings too. Don't shake your fist at them
they could end your life.
By vomiting an electric current that can tear your precious skin into shreds and then start laughing until it cries while washing away your chunky blood off of the ground along with ant hills and locust shells.

HA!ha!HA!

My legs are bouncing up and down and my shoulder nudge as my back lifts up and all my muscles are out of energy because I keep smiling.
The beauty, I'm staring at it.
It's so simple.
It's so complex.
It's so beautiful.

STOP LAUGHING!
I'M LAUGHING WITH YOU!
I'M SO DRENCHED
MY PANTS
THEY STICK TO ME.

I cross my ankles and lay there in silence
while my friends stare at me.
I move my head from side to side
looking at the spikey stuff surrounding me
the concrete still titls and stares.

I'm smiling so hugely.
I've never smelled something so tremendous in my life.
So innocent
So... untouchable.

Push me
HAhaHA!

You're so beautiful.
The sky, It's so simple.

did you ever just

want to drop everything where it is, where you are and just run?
run anywhere, really. like, wherever you please.
like you can go meet people and mingle and just be happy.
you don't need the internet or anything
you don't need to masturbate or have sexual relations with anyone
or use people for that matter.

sometimes, i would like to do this.
i'm sure most people can relate to a situation like me
you just
want to escape everything and anything or everyone and just
run for the hills and talk to birds and go on a boat and float aimlessly through deep undiscovered waters.

it could be like this one day if you all just gave me a chance.

just for you, dear

Confrontation: The act of confronting or the state of being confronted, especially a meeting face to face.










sorry I don't let you get to me as much as you would like to. I'm done with you, so stop putting things in your blog because you're mad you have your own writing style and I have mine. So just leave it at that, live life without secretly putting people down, and just say it to their faces.
Life is easier that way, you'll learn that.

GONE

When it's like this, it's like i don't even exist, really.
Too many thoughts are jumping on trampolines all throughout my head.
I can hear the voices perfectly, through my little, minuscule eardrums and my big earlobes.
And how cute are you with your perfect shirt and your perfect hair
While I'm on the edge of death sitting on the sidewalk with a black figure hovering over me
readying itself to blow my head into literal pieces so they can splatter all over the coffee bistro's windows.
When it's like this, i feel pretentious.
Like i'm unknowing of every surrounding thing that closes me in, and secures me every single day. I make myself look better than gold, but I'm not really.
I'm no arrogant sonofabitch.
Just a stupid one.
Ignorance is bliss.
Blissful in your head, and up your nose.
You drag your lone blanket on the gravel as the rocks roll behind you like cans on a bicycle.
You think to yourself, "I'm no child" but you are.
You have evidence grasped in your hand like a baby's neck. It's trailing behind you now
letting everyone know you don't want to grow up.
You don't want to die.
The black figure is now breathing down your neck
leaving condensation dripping off of your hair, onto your shoulders.
You don't want to grow up, and get rid of that blanket.
You vomited on that thing.
It's getting even closer now.
Lighting the blanket on fire, ripping the thumb off of your very hand.
Your eyes get smaller, and your face gets wrinkly.
It's picking out your casket.
Your tombstone.
You have no comfort, no self esteem.
It's time to grow up.
It's time, to die.

Sleep with the worms, kiddo.
Hope to see you soon someday.

it's here

I feel pretty much, alone all of sudden.
did you ever feel that before?
like, say you're sitting by a tree, right
and you're just sitting there thinking on and on and on
about what's going on in your life
thinking of self-improvement
and then all of a sudden
you realize that you're by yourself
but technically not because you're thinking
of all this other shit that has to do with walking humans
that you really don't care for
that you pretend to care for
that you should really tell them you don't care for them
at all
but you really don't have the heart to
and all you want to do is be isolated
in a box
floating onto a lone island
with a loan palm tree
and a loan crab for you to roast at night
for your lonesome feast
and your lonesome talk-yourself-to-sleep talks
and your palm tree leave pillow that just not quite soft enough
but you can't stop thinking about what's going to happen when you get off of this island
what will your boyfriend think of you when you come back all cruddy,
covered in sea scum and 6 month old sand and dirty toenails that curl under your sandles as you walk on them.
what will THEY think?
it doesn't matter, you've been alone for over 3 years now.
it's time for some social interaction.
you've been alone so long, that YOU DON'T KNOW what social interaction IS.
you say all the wrong things at all the wrong times
talk to yourself in public
make people think you belong in a loony bit or something!
it's madness
pure fucking rage
and stupidity
and heartlessness
and amusement
and entertainment
all combined into one little situation
where all you wish is that you can be alone on that lonesome little island again
to be one with the sea scum
to be two with the 6 month old sand
to be three with your sea friends.
and to once again drink the coconut juice that drips into your savage mouth.
and this is when you realize.
being alone, it's nice
being alone isn't here.
it's on that very island.
not where there's p.m. 2.5 in the air.
but when there's fresh sea breeze buzzing around your ears and kissing your pupils.
it's not
here
but
there.

point 1: we're all alone -- but still unknown.
point 2: one will eventually realize what it feels like to be alone, when they're once isolated with no social contact with the outside world.
point 3: i feel like i should be this kind of person.

as the summer approaches my mind gets more and more cold, chilly, shaking in the wind like the leaves that will shake sooner or later. we'll walk into a field with all the grass to feed a whole farm of cows. swarming with bees and swarming with deer chewing on the tips of the grass. the blue sky stretched on top of the field. the sunny horizon smiling at us as we enter the silence known as broken suicides. our eyes light up to see that we're holding hands. intertwined next to the seams of our holey jeans. our unshaved legs and our torn up shoes and our dirty bags so long almost touching the grass before our asses get the chance to. sitting indian style with a draft in my pants airing out my sweat in between my thighs my hair swaying in the wind. the water lillies sparkling and the slime from the frogs laying on top of the green, green leaves. put your chin up, you have dirt under there. dirty teenagers sitting in the silence feeling non-existant like. the summer approaches at high speed, burning the fuzz on my shoulder burning my retnas and burning the aglate on my shoelace. a perfectly good orange shoelace is now brown. the grass is creeping up to my ankles because it's starting to rain so the grass keeps growing. this field is speckled with memories people can't remember. not even paper. no trees. just leaves just me and you. bringing back our voices, forgetting the silence we laugh until we pee. you can't tell it's raining. the grass has reached our shoulders. now to our ears now to our heads now to our hair! we can't see anything except the corners of our eyes. we're laughing at the fact that our minds feel like they're floating high on acid. higher than the horizon that once smiled with. now the sky is laughing so hard it's crying. and so are we.

rebellious grandmaw.

i think i'm like, post-delusional pre- sleep.
because well i've been talking in circles and triangles and squares all a-like for about
24 hours now. and i'm really not making sense at all.
but nothing is really logical in my mind. nothing needs a strategy.
only strategical triumphant famous celebrities who live off of gnc and eat whole grain asshole.

sometimes when i listen to music i imagine it taking over my brain and sometimes i see myself acting like a whole new person.

sometimes i would like to unleash that person.
but who am i kidding, i'm a pussy. we all know it.
i only have 3 more left. i'm having a competition with myself.
i ate every single one.
sometimes, i wonder what it would be like if slept in a suitcase for one whole night on a huge airplane with foreigners voices to wake up to, wondering if they're actually noticing the ruckus being caused in the suitcase holder above their seats.

and sometimes i wonder what it would be like if we all had asteriks as eyeballs.
(*)(*)
that basically just looks like, boobie tassles.
but how weird would that be? we would all look so fucking cool.
it would benefit some who binge out then throw up until their eyeballs hang from a long filmy, slimy, pink, chord.
waiting to fall into the filthy toilet water that once held a stinky piss.

i like the smell of rain, most of the time.
wouldn't it be cool if our armpits could produce the smell of rain instead of b.o.?
we would all smell so attractive and get laid twice as much.
we would never be stinky!
we would help decrease air pollution.

was that simultaneously a "go green" add?

obama, my nigga. it was.

If I could

If I could actually achieve the goals I've set for myself in the past, going to this place would be the only one I would have achieved. I'm not the kind of person who has a grip on reality. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. This is all too much. Way too much. You're serving me a platter for one that I can't eat all by myself. Honestly, I would like to go to this place, sit on the black and white brick road with that lonesome man and make friends with him. I feel like being isolated. I feel this shock again. Here it comes, surging through my body at light speed. You don't care, you never have I don't think. And guess what? That doesn't bother me. You're always right, dear. You're always in charge, honey. You're always peachy fucking keen, sweety. Well, one day when I leave and go to this place and make nice with that lonesome guy in that isolated town, you'll be more safe than sorry. This is just a warning, that you might as well watch out, because this isn't a novel you can predict. This situation is in a rut, and so is your heart.