Channeling voices

I was cursed with poetry very young, cursed with unrealistic expectations. Sometimes you mis the facts but you kept catch the truth.

We should control our reality, not allow our reality to control us. But sometimes you’re compelled. What compels you?

Sometimes the truth in your eyes, clouded white could be the death of your mother. I would wish to get close to you, but the wind would blow you away. So I watch you through the glass. Sometimes rubbing sand in my eyes is more desirable than seeing you like this. Scarred by your own admission. Ceremony to show your growth. Your individuality, your freedom. Those closest to you, may love you in a way that they would do anything to save you. But I, I love you in a different way. I love you enough, to kill you. From the ashes you shall rise, with a new sense of who you are.

I don’t remember clouds when we were young, were there any? How far can we swim? As far as we can. When we got there, What would we do? Everything. I’m afraid, aren’t you always afraid?

    May life never tear apart what death combines. One day I’ll tell you my story. Then you’ll see the whole picture. You may feel that it is beautiful, but that’s only the surface. It’s perfect in its dimensions. Within it’s imperfection. In it’s disease. Then you all awaken. With that you became this thing of my creation.  Non-binary, with even larger wings than before.
     I gave it a name, as a witches spell, with a name comes life. Sometimes dying is like just going out of focus. For a while. In one eye. I put mirrors behind the eyes so that it could see although it was dead. And I got it, and a way that you always would, but it in a way that you never could. Because when I did, it was forbidden. My secret in the maze. Like so many others, from so many others. The beautiful misery of it. Sometimes you have to act crazy just so that people Believe that you’re sane. Restrained by your own actions, simply to prove a point. In this asylum, with this hysteria. Bathed like a slave of the crucifix. Am I clean? Is this what you want? To be bathed in my tears and cut off all my hair. For me to lose my identity as I take your name. Become your property. Oh how I long for the lobotomy. To be released from this rachet self awareness. The only way to remove the mirrors from behind your eyes. I lost myself in this moment, enjoying the terror of it. I should’ve chased you into the maze, for then I saw the entire future. You were not survive out there in the world, you were too weak. I love you for your weakness. Your weakness makes you perfect. But I’ll let you go, as anyone should With a beautiful butterfly. To not Tadder your wings. But you will not make it, and it is it my fault? To give you the freedom to make the choice, rather than confining you. The freedom to fly, even if into The light that burns you. It’s your choice. Perhaps if I warned you of the danger, your path would have been diverted. But is it my place? And if I did speak the words, would you listen? Or would it just create bars between us? And if you were a dead thing, shall I keep you then? Placing mirrors behind your eyes, giving your name, to bring you life? Then with that life be mine? Would you take my name? Become my possession? You could shut the door at any time, but will you? You’ve always been drawn to the deep ocean. But can you swim? If the waves spoke, would you listen? Would you bother to try to learn their language so you could learn the lesson?

No matter how much you try to protect yourself with spikes on the outside, you can still get eaten from the inside.

Sometimes you can just sit in the window looking cute until you die from neglect.

You remember when you grow in the desert there’s not a lot of moisture, so it doesn’t benefit you to grow a big flower.

Sometimes you might not have any trouble at all flowering in a bone dead climate. Sometimes you have the liberty of enjoying your surroundings enough that you can Enjoy the things you see, not knowing what they are.
You can just hang out there for another thousand years, don’t worry I’ll be back later.

 Time is important when you’re dying, not when you’re tripping. You can consume flowers if you’d like to devour the essence. The bargain section can always get hectic. sometimes you got to wear a helmet when you go in there, it gets hot. often a college student with a septum ring will lecture you on how you’re living your life. you can buy the ingredients to cure coronavinous  grants or make a bomb what you do is up to you. You can put it in your ass, just light it on fire before you put it in your ass. There’s nothing like a bunch of PhD stabbing them self over some processed cheese. You got a love this. Better that than people that do not believe in evolution. Individually packaged.  forbidden rice, What is that all about? Makes me feel that it’s a bit erotic. I want to take a bath in it. they are filled with hate like most people. But they’re relatively passive about it. if you shoplift from life they will take you in the back and take your portal ride and then shove your face into the concrete. I hope you enjoyed it. Have a nice life. I love the explosions. Right before you’re going to burst out into tears you can enjoy the scars Of the suburban folks embracing their ability to be awake. enjoy the air, it may not always be free. The journey is enjoying it. Fuck it it’s all plastic. I haven’t been this in exhausted and enjoying it in a long time. let’s see if I can make it to the top and don’t die.  when I die I hope you remember other parts of me pardon me,
Not only the tiny tree, you like that sacred geometry? My bonsai, I like reckless situations when the favor is in my direction.  if no one sees your trash, most people feel there’s no reason to not leave it. How would your mom feel about that?  I really enjoy my habitat, sometimes it’s like a strange sex toy. A little bit of vibration a little bit of pain. just before you want to vomit and take a nap. I’m hungry.  sometimes your flowers make you look like you’ve had bit of a rough night. in the end anything primal is always the destination. Often you find yourself hiking uphill in the desert against the sun’s rays hoping that you’re not going to die. Only then you find enlightenment. Everything‘s got that weird shape. You can’t escape the hedges, they’re everywhere. Actually they’re kind of remarkable. Like the Betty Crocker of botany. Apparently very tolerant of climate change. Poop The basis of everything is serpentine.  so you know when it’s hot and humid in hot as balls outside and you’re very uncomfortable, it’s good to know that you have a place that you can bathe your soul.  I’d like to show you something if you’d let me, and please indulge, how long did it take you to evolve? It’s almost obscene. Fuzzy. Different variations of you. The ocean is deep and so is your shit, but luckily I can swim. those are just the fruits maturing. I don’t care how you do your payment, but as long as you’re tied to a brick and throw it through the window or whatever, as long as we receive it we have been mowing your glass grass for over a decade and we’d like to know that you’ll take responsibility for your own actions. this is not a threat, it’s just a stream of consciousness.

Would you like to have an adventure? Now? Because is there any other time?

These life experiences have left me equally happy. Which also means they left me equally unhappy.

When someone asks you what type of music you like, there truly asking you who do you want to be at this moment?