historically seems like u value freedom of mind & ‘not hiding behind some wall’.. from what u just said it sounds like those values help u be honest w/ urself.. maybe u could benefit from just some extra courage to stick to those convictions. maybe funnel the value u place on people towards that. & when ur honest w/ urself, u might realize u dont even have one best friend. & thats just fine.
as for how to do that, read. do it with a pencil. pick up thus spake zarathustra & fill in the margins. take ur freedom to disagree w/ it. the value is in the structure of thought; its just calisthenics.
ur on ur way. people dont even make it that far. ur young & still essentially just getting started. recognize that & keep in mind the rest is maintenance. the seed of ur fate is already inside u, u just have to make sure u keep it watered/fed.
Your body has the nicest arc length I’ve ever seen.
I miss you
dont know what the word is for the feeling of watching a member of
your family dying suddenly.
one day he almost threw my dog down the stairs for eating his
hamburgers. it wasnt like that.
i got a pen knife from my sisters wedding and i wanted to see how
sharp it was by how little force it took to just perforate a box of
tic tacs. so i was in some reverse-jenga state but it was more like
real jenga cause the box broke and i stabbed myself in the finger and
my mom called me for dinner. i didnt want her to know how dumb i had
been so i didnt make any sounds. i just showed up for dinner with my
hand wrapped in gauze and later she asked me what i dripped on my way
to the bathroom and i told her.
it wasnt like that either.
i cant really remember this conversation i had on the midnight megabus
back from detroit. this black couple was talking
with some gypsies i met about how pittsburgh was a racist town. they
seemed alright. they caught the megabus up to detroit only for the
day like i did. it was their casino vacation or something. i told
them i came up for the electronic music festival and they asked if i
was a producer. they knew the only serious producer in pittsburgh.
they asked how i would rate my ability out of 10 and i said 6. the
guy laughed at me and belittled me for lack of confidence. he
recalled me mentioning i came out by myself and how im in school for
music technology. in question format. he said i cant be as serious
about music as i make myself out to be.
the conversation happened in the seat next to the bathroom. i
stammered about being timid and tired and walked away. i dont know if
i said it was nice to meet them or just goodnight or something. i
dont know if he got a hand job and thats why they sat there. i dont
know if i fell asleep.
it was more like that.
and heres what i sounded like in spanish http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5f60gARUjz4
oh i didnt know that was a reference. gotta watch that. anyway
so tired i dont even wish people happy birthday on facebook anymore
there are birds because of your lips.
the weakness felt in lizards knees
out of envy for their fitness
turned to swelling in their ribs
& split em wide, into wings
& so they live, lofting on your breath,
the same sky i breathe when i kiss you.
3 & 20
maybe im so ashamed of myself that i completely fear what other people have to say about me and make myself callous to their opinion by hating myself as much as i could be hated for. then it wouldnt sting to know someone doesnt like me cause i already hate myself. and when i hate myself enough i punish myself to get rid of the shame.. i effectively do get rid of it cause of the satisfaction from visiting justice, although its on myself. then i can say “yeah, im hateable, but like me for the justice i bring!!” and yet it still stings when people dont like me.
if theres gonna be an apocalypse, i hope its by everyone in the world getting fat.. everyone giving in and acting on revenge.. everyone being honest.. quitting their jobs/school and sitting down and writing themselves to death. drawing themselves to death. singing themselves to death. everyone peeling back their skulls. putting their brains into their brains. imploding.
everyones in such close contact with each other theyre forgetting how to talk to themselves. and somehow skin is no longer a part of our bodies.
(and the second time you see your pride, you might mistake it for bile)
i think the most painful part of having a limb chopped off wouldnt actually be the pang itself, but the realization that it didnt hurt as bad as you thought it was going to. try to imagine a situation where this might happen, free of the horror that comes along with some sort of anticipation of pain (cause that anticipation hurts just about as much as the pain itself).. like say you and your pal are hanging out on the railroad tracks after chopping up and clearing away some tree that fell and blocked them during a storm.. you guys celebrate a job well done with some flask-scotch.. then as your buddy is vacantly striking the rail with his axe (almost like hes stuck in a sort of loop) as he listens to some story of yours.. you get kinda closer to him for dramatic effect, and then suddenly WHAM HE ACCIDENTALLY CHOPS YOUR BIG TOE OFF.. (imagine its a freshly-sharpened axe and maybe you also took your boots off cause youre a free spirit..) like suddenly your toe is gone, and where it connected to your foot hurts. but maybe the pain wasnt any worse than the worst time you stubbed/broke your big toe. then youre left there thinking “it doesnt hurt so bad” ….. “BUT MY TOES GONE OGGGGGH” .. i know, personally, id feel like i Should just man up. its only the thought thats making it so bad. but then somehow id fail to man up. the pain wouldnt have increased any since that thought.. but id still return to making it worse. i mean it seems justified, like seeing how i sorta just lost an extremity.. but thats only to the outsider. to myself id always know that the pain itself was more endurable than id made it out to be. then id feel guilty, i guess effectively tripling the pain at that point.
when i was 5’11” living in a ~6’6” high basement
in the midst of stress i read things stressful and rend myself an adolescent senile or dead by suspension of hope taut and still like the knotted leader suspending me from my throat
the crescent moon is a neon cats claw torn off in the atmosphere a smirking wound that widens and lights the house i live in
[…] loneliness resides where the voice loses its legs:
in the stifling closeness of a comforter,
in the folds of steam of another,
where all landmarks lose necessity,
leaving the mind without any objects to expand into in order to recognize itself..
a voice is something that searches when it speaks,
through its echoes, in hope of uniting the expanse
it bounces off of
loneliness is where the voice is only itself,
not itself and reverberations of.
a voice turned in on itself can only search
whats already been sought,
can only speak whats already been said.
a voice could thrive in a warm climate,
but in those cold it seems to settle for warm pockets
it seems to seek its own muffling.
and in these places,
one will notice a certain hissing.
two spots where coffee sat so long that only their brown butt-prints remain where the passing air stole them.. another stain, like milk or glaze? her fingerprints? if only these fingers were bone so i could examine this and be sure they werent my own.. or maybe if they were some microscopic needles that could caress those grooves and make them sing.. the sound of her touch; the sound of her whisper; her unstrung strings bowed, her sighing in my ear: to sleep there and awaken when shes no longer near.
youre pretty much cursed as soon as you believe in luck/fate
i think a person forms on the end of a leash let down from a star, like mold or corrosion, when it makes contact with the earth. i feel like they grow around that leash and, as its hooked to their most sensitive parts, are prone to any minute tug. it seems like constellations are responsible for people getting all grouped together and i wonder if my star has died.