10-40-11
Crushed a poor spider soul but out of dominance. I was the master of its fate. A lethal bite from his cousin might be deserved. Mess up words because of a blockage in the brain. Blood flow could not get past. Earn someone commission. Finding the missing lunatic. All I care about is if she can still paint. Every unfinished thought can be expressed through the medium of fine art. Give her some postcards to imitate and amaze. Emulate real life while staying inside. Awful stormy out there anyhow. We speak in perfect grammar around these parts. Keep the collection golden and sputtering. Criminal minds take the seat out of old car. Thieves in black in the black night looting and stealing from an old married couple. Build up fences to keep the misses feeling safe. But something happened and it must have been an act of desperation. Of drug fiend lunacy. A loss of reality. They are in the streets stealing from those who dream of the terror outside. We put up barbed wires to keep them out. Mount cameras and other systems. A salesman takes ridiculous advantage, laughing, digs himself a grave made of fire. There are few clean souls here. The first conversation with a stranger, he/she will lie to you 3 times. The moral side of the brain left undamaged perhaps. Can you leave with your dignity in tact after that attack? Push yourself away from the pain. There is no use for it other than an early warning sign that you have bad habits or that your body is breaking. (gym membership for body maintenance. feel confident only after a couple hundred reps.)
Sitting on a queen sized bed under a reversible fan. Elliot smith on the stereo (the aux input damaged from bumps in the road or some small impact with another object) Van gogh painting to my right. Replaced a native image of children in a kitchen. The spectacular thing being the beam of light through the window. Fantastic understanding of light and shadow. Though the image is of shabby clothed people taking on the appearance of beggars. I'd rather think abstractly (curvacious flowers) than have to sleep under a moral message. I have morals somewhere.
"When should we listen to you. When should we tune you out?"
Joke too often and there is no foundation for relations. Get serious and the jokes become bigger and more damaging. Find a happy medium between cognition and fantasy. Sarcasm is great. Creative input is greater. I came across as a jackass. A jokester who wants to impress everyone. I did want to impress everyone. But then, annoyingly, I underplay strengths... Drummers can't be drum techs. Why the hell not? We all become specialized in certain aspects. I dream of becoming good at everything. Where did my artistry go? I dreamed of drawing beautiful pictures of people I used to love. Beach sunsets and tents near campfires. Roasted marshmellows. Drank some beers, told scary stories, heard rustling in the bushes and had sex by candlelight. Is this reality? Is this dream? Where did I meet you? Somewhere in between? Question every fact and every feeling. Seeing is believing. then believe we have lost our eyes. kill the lights and the massage parlor becomes provocative. back sore like lifting boulders up to the sky, sharpening them just right. Is there anything I could make with my hands and coordination that people believe to be created by aliens? (rock formations, pyramids... all the inscriptions in dark cave walls covered in soot and ashes.) Convince me that something is out there. It is all entirely possible. It is all entirely possible. Don't be convinced you are right. It is all entirely possible. even the most ridiculous idea or premonition could find its way into historical fact. ask yourself how you got to where you are and wonder what you would have thought about that a few years ago...
I am proud.
