mar 8th 3:13am

Those paralytic stairs and the head-on glances with downcast eyes to avoid getting hit by an alleyway car, hiked through the gauntlet and the mental health is variable, when so much is uncertain, the role of the wallpaper is questioned absurdly, here there is traumatic vision and a disappointment for never reconnecting with such an averted past, then wow, the consistent 2 years to "break in" as they say, but I worry if I'm just projecting my needy, well-fed house dog attitude onto the other, younger partygoers, while I darkly brood though the bar idea falls flat clearly, my dark cloud shadow pulpit mind, with the musical talks from ghosts of friends, then it makes more sense, then it is lost in the glazed over uncertainty of dance moves and curb jumps while traffic zooms by, the barriers are lost and my distinctions can be limited by a mere removal of certain particles, replaced by crystals and diamonds of an incessant thirst, put in the request and enlist me in your mighty punk rock army, with the ideas manufactured like post war colonies, then everything is formed like nothing ever happened on the tombs of our greater, old ideas, and the whole dressed cute little mischief, all of those conjured up histories and the isolated heat of indoor sticky messes, with our conversations limited to bullshit with the awkward condolence of our most dead dreams for our minutes left gone forever in the lost art of broken teeth to open beers with our terrible youth taking chips our of our skulls, the reach for water ignorance, the conversations averted, sad drunken misfortunate, the black cat followed me like a plague of death, party becomes lame when everyone just stands around and there are no collaborative games with the necessity for infinite spaces and the hugs of wondrous warmth ignored by the cold glass eyes of harmonious detail, the personalities change, is how the bodies melt together. No matter who I was, it was good to make a statement, English. Weird isolation. Hungry for music. Waiting for it to happen like a blissful firework in the palm of night. Disappointment is an understatement. The head straight down through the midst of horrible people. Dollar to the coffee desirous homeless man and the japanese girls that cackled at me from their stiletto heals for the action, the hand washed like sheets after an orgy, the documents after the unjust verdict is made, burned up in a a fire of astonishing size. These are the most full thoughts, emotional outpour of complete passive dismissal, the unbelievable truth of only knowing a handful of people and then panicking from an undiagnosed social disorder, the dreams die together with the accountability of oneself for action spent to get home. I understand how your interactions with strange men occur now. If I went less guarded to the party and luke decided to keep the high to himself, with the windows opened, the volume increases and our ideals are crazily felt, the alcoholic influences of dreams all dried out due to lack of nutrient supplies. We hashed out the plan, the jeep, now crashed, parked and blocked in, the panic and silly anxiety to consider any situation so dire as impossible for account for, there was a hand meant to hold, a crazy desire like that of a tiger coming of age, my hands were so dry back then, huge gashing cuts from drum stick frenzy, the painful issues would illustrate potential back issues, the humility is extinguished, i thought back so fondly to those dead moments that I wish I could find myself somewhere nearer the truth.