walk out of my 1 month home. i have limited time here, im told. for whatever reason i fail to care about.
i feel like trash shouting. You think you know me!?!? You have no idea!!!! and have a falling-out junkie scream fest. but everyone thinks that way about themselves. i realize words have little importance when directed to others and drink a silent response.
Ever feel like your response to certain stilmuli is already decided beforehand? I can answer questions like everyone else and react to what your doing to me but sometimes im lazy and i just pick something from the drop-down list to make you go on with things. Horrible.
i wonder if running to a purpose will change things, or if thoughts are already burned mirrored to each other stuck there until i decide my time has been long enough. i dream of sweltering heat and jungle leaves maybe being a saviour.
im not a fucking poet. i think you have all just not realized i failed to grasp language or study its importance.
i made an appointment to get out of this waking life feeling, trying not to listen to that crunch crunch styrophoam noise boots make through snow. i fall down hard. on my two-day fresh broken tailbone. i lay there breathing carefully to wait for pain to reside and focus. people are stepping over me. a man falls behind me. i lay there like a piece of gum and think about having a picnic with the orange in my backpack.
Whatever. There are children in somalia holding AK`s trying not to watch their mama die from Aids and starvation, so therefore a broken ass is nothing too serious to lament about.
I put one foot in front of the other and repeat until i come to a dark lump next to a boarded up church. Everyone else is passing by him too. He isnt just a hobo taking a nap in puddle, cause his face is lying right in it.
Hellooo? I ask the lump.
I roll him out of the puddle. His eyes are rolled back. I put him on his side.
I look up at the rest of the crowd. I hate people. Individuals I can stand, but people, thats a no go in my department. The situations that come afterwards are very baffling and hard to comprehend and leaf through, but two hours later I find the man getting kicked in the head by two cops, his face in the snow, arms tied back with tie wraps.
I tell the police that I think they would get calm, clear answers out of him if they just get HIS FACE OUT OF THE SNOW. A man with a long black trenchcoat proceeds to follow me around but fails to understand that it takes much, much more than that to make me feel uncomfortable.
Game: Dodge trees !
Huron nests. I should have left with them.
In other news, I went dogsledding, have continued puking in all sorts of public and private areas thus concluding to try and accept this daily bodily function that is the tictok clock, and final thoughts i guess ive decided is that i miss dreamers and skippers and all others who i dont see or meet anymore since ive become a slave to whatever-describing-word-youd-like-to-end-this-with.
i feel like trash shouting. You think you know me!?!? You have no idea!!!! and have a falling-out junkie scream fest. but everyone thinks that way about themselves. i realize words have little importance when directed to others and drink a silent response.
Ever feel like your response to certain stilmuli is already decided beforehand? I can answer questions like everyone else and react to what your doing to me but sometimes im lazy and i just pick something from the drop-down list to make you go on with things. Horrible.
i wonder if running to a purpose will change things, or if thoughts are already burned mirrored to each other stuck there until i decide my time has been long enough. i dream of sweltering heat and jungle leaves maybe being a saviour.
im not a fucking poet. i think you have all just not realized i failed to grasp language or study its importance.
i made an appointment to get out of this waking life feeling, trying not to listen to that crunch crunch styrophoam noise boots make through snow. i fall down hard. on my two-day fresh broken tailbone. i lay there breathing carefully to wait for pain to reside and focus. people are stepping over me. a man falls behind me. i lay there like a piece of gum and think about having a picnic with the orange in my backpack.
Whatever. There are children in somalia holding AK`s trying not to watch their mama die from Aids and starvation, so therefore a broken ass is nothing too serious to lament about.
I put one foot in front of the other and repeat until i come to a dark lump next to a boarded up church. Everyone else is passing by him too. He isnt just a hobo taking a nap in puddle, cause his face is lying right in it.
Hellooo? I ask the lump.
I roll him out of the puddle. His eyes are rolled back. I put him on his side.
I look up at the rest of the crowd. I hate people. Individuals I can stand, but people, thats a no go in my department. The situations that come afterwards are very baffling and hard to comprehend and leaf through, but two hours later I find the man getting kicked in the head by two cops, his face in the snow, arms tied back with tie wraps.
I tell the police that I think they would get calm, clear answers out of him if they just get HIS FACE OUT OF THE SNOW. A man with a long black trenchcoat proceeds to follow me around but fails to understand that it takes much, much more than that to make me feel uncomfortable.
Game: Dodge trees !
Huron nests. I should have left with them.
In other news, I went dogsledding, have continued puking in all sorts of public and private areas thus concluding to try and accept this daily bodily function that is the tictok clock, and final thoughts i guess ive decided is that i miss dreamers and skippers and all others who i dont see or meet anymore since ive become a slave to whatever-describing-word-youd-like-to-end-this-with.
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HUGS
I've broken my tailbone before and it sucks I know.