Friday, November 20, 2009

squiggle

This place is like a ticking pipe bomb. An explosion in my mind, a blinding flash that burns out our retnas. The white of our eyeballs turn black, and they're all ugly. You're ugly. This instance, I think of all the nasty food I just regurgitated into that porcelain God. A ghost holds my hair for me, to make life easier. In my head, I live in a perfect place, in my body I do not. Thinking of everything. Things rewinding, this fast forwarding, things pausing, things ejecting like video tapes every second. This wall looks like somebody puked all over it, and so do you. I am not a follower, I am not different. I think you should just shut up, and FLOAT.

2 comments:

  1. I like what you're talking about, though I don't necessarily agree, seeing as you are different.
    As for the underlying message, I dont' know what to say.

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  2. this is a very intense blog
    i dont really know what to say other than that, but take it as a compliment

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