My suffocation with the tight places I've been lead me inevitably deeper inside, the catacombs of coffee houses and well painted murals, found objects piled up until lost amidst the shredded paper trail of office buildings, those plagues on the landscape and it falls into synthetic pieces. This narrative falls apart as inconsequential and real issues, the truthful assignments become malignant and break off, have you grown a healthy forest of anxious arms around the jewel encrusted casings of your heart, with those diamond pearly whites of your eyes, shattered and broken down into black globe pieces, enormous pine cones, the size of forearms and a fist, musical ledges, those fiscal cliffs of dover, made up of ground up salt in a bloom, a frenzied feeding underneath your floorboards, those haunted smiles that don't seem appropriate even if everyone else is smiling for the same reason, perhaps an authority figure fell into a pile at the bottom of the stairs, that physical humor like sex is infectious, here we lay out and I can't place any objects on the ground without microscopic proliferation, and small bites, intense itches, rolling and turning in the bedroom of my attic house, here we killed our love and I felt so incredibly dead under the weight of those angular words, forgive me, my ambitions, I am not living up to your power. I must reconnect with that better version of myself, who knows what to say and when, never feels lost or helpless.
Harbor ill thoughts, feel melancholic chills when the wind mentions her name and the hearing is muddled, expressive of a desire to live, to outlive and to work, to over work and fall into a back broken fury, a pained expression..... shut up.
Careless with the word choices. They connect no dots and paint no picture. This is just working evidence of pain. Cringing at the sight and sound of these emotionless narratives. There is a girl that haunts me. She is everywhere.
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Caffeine addled frenzy, holy christ is this the end of existence, this is an observation of my flushed emotions, all add up to painful reconciliation, those harbingers of good earth, bad soil and a poisonous attitude infecting the mind even though there is constant beauty, everything changes and can be taken for pleasure so simply, these painful precepts are irrelevant and awful.
This is time for growth not rolling about the floor in existential pain.
Flaming Lips references and a smile to ease the tension. One to replace words with. I am now smiling. This is all over and I will come up with elegant solutions to my woes faster than I could possibly write them all down. I will be a solution dreamer and there, the blueprints, I will wake up with crazy clarity and an itchy feeling to grow beyond the normal tendency to fall through... These cracks are not wide enough. I am on an upward flight beyond the limits of my personality. These obstacles are all internal monologue... they are depressive tactics for the justification of sadness and inhibition. Did Mozart ever have days he felt inadequate or did his dynamic spirit murder all doubt and deliver him to excellence?
Where do I stand on my own two feet. behind books and inside the market place of vibrating sensations , waves of grandeur and all of those ideas that become increasingly difficult to micro manage, though easier to spot because they are huge, consuming the horizon and the leading lines all condensed into one straight forward arrow... there my future self waving back, coaxing me along.
"It will be alright. These awful feelings will pass and you will become me, organizing a stack of papers on the desk of your study with perfect health and clarity of action. These emotions will pass as soon as you accept them as a part of you... us... Escape from them with full disclosure. Feed the parts of your personality you wish to flourish. Let the negative parts starve. They aren't worth your time. Become electric, festive.... and follow me into every sunset."
