

I Smoke MyselfI'm frantic, scribbling frustrations onto bleeding paper Do we punch walls to punish them or break them down?I Smoke Myself
Or to break our fists? In nervous delusion, we curl back up in our eggs In anxious departure, I expose my skin in an animalistic tear Slits appear on my back and a feathery web stretches out like a drawn arrow I rocket upwards I don't care where this tunnel ends I don't think it does Everything around me is the same And I watch it all turn into cosmic specs of dust Only in death, the explosive scream after fuses of anxiety and frustration hit 0, will we be calm T


AguagatoI ring serenely around the mountains, in a mechanical gaze A gust of challenging winds disorients me My feet let go of the ground In God's hand lifting me up mountains in one push aimed for infinite Freezing winds attack my face, feet dragging along snow and rock God curls down his index finger and gently flicks me off his hand I tumble awhile, dazed Inside a dark cave I awake to the deafening sounds of silence, and try to let my eyes adjust to the darkness A hot flash of white light burns my eyes and starts shaping and envelopes me in a guttural, earth-shredding roar I quickly attacAguagato


Ever been to a White Sox game?Bodies soften in abrupt, anti-rhythmic intervals Bystanders laugh in awesome shock and make room for the scuffling body of flailing flesh Feet swoop around in dust and rock The warriors use their bellies as drums Backs shoved against walls which echo shouts and grunts The trains roar an adrenaline cheer on the bridge above It melts the graffiti off the walls The conductor tips his hat and the train continues its route Every movement is made with no energy spared Movements turn to slow motion and take the last tired steps toward the finish line The roaring, the shouting, the poundingEver been to a White Sox game?


Sewer RatI'm on my hands and knees Hunched like a rat Or maybe a Ninja Turtle Crawling through cobwebbed underground labyrinths Neck and knees aching Where the fuck is the next chamber? Lean on to my right elbow (making sure not to set it on the long creek of shit and water) The flashlight tells me that it's getting narrower down here You guys wanna go back? Fuck it.Sewer Rat


metaphorically speakingand college and jobs and mediocrity are all stalking my mind as I cling to my childhood like I once clung to the escalator railing; one foot planted to the ground (stability, comfort) and one on the moving stair. Being pushed forward and trying to flourish while seperated as i am mechanically pulled apart and forced to choose. The future? The comfort? Caught up, straddling the fear. (In the end the machine movements pull me toward an inevitable future) Do I listen to my mentors, or my illogical heart? Is this leading me on a path of ignoring my dreams? What will become of those? I dont want to be a soccer mom. I aspire to LIVE and not just exmetaphorically speaking


The MythThe MythThe Myth
--It is easy now, in this age of rebellion, to become preoccupied with what you are not, and forget what it is you are.
There is something here for me. I am spiritual Salmacis, entranced somewhere in between harsh ambition and bony wrists. I am mother to beasts, a merciful Medea. I never really wanted Jason anyway. I am Caesar, crying at twenty-five because I have not yet conquered anything. Oh conscript fathers, I want to be merciful but I will not hide first blood, or in first blood, for
--
We're all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. -- Oscar Wilde
not in a sad way but in an overwhelming way
you need to come over and paint more, that was awesome
and i must say its impressive
keep writing cause youre way better at it than most people
--
"If I was sure of to match my mood with thine, I should never think again of trifles, in relation to thy comings and goings... and I respect thy genius: it is to me as yet unfathomed... thou art to me a delicious torment. Thine ever, or never."
Be Happy
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