sept 20th

Tear out the last page of every good book before returning it to the library. Throw a party because a portion of your feet could be seen on national television among male nudity and vomiting. Pick away at tiny scabs a baby rattlesnake might have left in right thumb, a decent space apart, the poison takes 70 years until it grabs hold of the heart and twists, but for now it is a lurking evil. Sewing synapses shut. Ruining opportunities for stronger socialization. The loud popping hips and cracking knuckles. The dents in the wall from collisions. 'off this mountain now I'm entering orbit' pressure wash the living room, wake up the dead and give them ancient egyptian ceremonial catacomb burial rite of passage pharaoh death, hieroglyphic labyrinth, where statues are made in exact size and likeness, with wet eyeballs that shine in expedition flash light, the drunk white dancing scene, on top indian graves, where someones ancestor died in a lavish and heroic way, (nothing short of comic book heroism).. A well though out metaphor for the comic book guy. mean high school kids. picking at scabs so they never form right and my hands look more like one from the coal mines. the japanese naked swimmers with head bobbin statues, while mine again, provoked by impure thoughts or self-defeat, fell from my desk back and decapitated onto the ground, an omen of something both good and bad. lastly the message represented a life turning point early this year, where one love transferred onto another, the broken hearted statuesque vision of fidelity and happiness, the grotesque distortions caused by sexual enzymes and chemical releases in the head, where the carelessness increases, neurotransmitters swim through the body like tiny dancing light bulbs, heating each part and helping the body adapt to full functional capacity of this undiscovered human form to either side... left to pry spirit from a relative to use as her own, more along the lines.. incentive to establish a double life, a triple life, a fearless approximation of the american dream, in the context that it is a positive life and achievement, the american dream now is warped by television and violence, but true living, true grit and spirit, cum and thunder, spit and blood, gingerly sliding through the delicacies, the flower pots and cloud headed optimists, smiling and shaking the head, to force self to become strong to set example of how one should behave once falling into weakness, to live a double life. To live so much that others cannot help but become determined to pull themselves up out of their own slumber and grab the reigns beside her. Christening followers as leaders in their own right. A buddhist temperament. Holding composure. Keeping the negative behind internal bars, black and white defenses visual barcode, the spectral light of returning ghosts, drifting in through foggy marshes and sand swept beaches in dark quiet early morning hours, wandering to find a comfortable place to lie down and rest, human urns converted into soil for trees, bad souls create haunted trees, let us form a new western belief of the afterlife. Once I die my body will be ground into soot or some such, mix with particular seeds and soil to create a human tree sort of.. Curious if the tree would share my living tissue, my DNA strands if somehow possible. In some sense I could live forever. If the original tree creates seeds that grow others and so on. My own soul tree would remain the only single, non-permutated, non-sharing tree among forest that replaces graveyard. borderline morbid thoughts but i digress from whatever intended meaning i could have believe I had at the beginning of this rant. but hey the wheels are spinning and i am alive oh yes!