Action-Reaction

Hi.
You ever have a moment where you know ur face is revealing what a dork you are.
You are not jaded, cool, and and emotionless.
You are not passionately subsided.
You are simply a reaction to an action;
an endless pool of waves;
a blank canvass filled in by the moment,
encompassing a web of associations;
moments of the past,
desires of the future.

Anyways,
So i am pretty much riding the wave.
Not going towards anything,
not moving away from anything.
And it's kind of nice, kind of boring,
kind of driving me nuts.

I like you, But I Don't Miss You When You're Gone

Shield: scratched and tarnished by the indignities of foreign tongue.

Subsistence: warm outer layer, adamantine core.

Emaciated heat,

My erection cools.

The Buisness of Breathing

There has to be a point to all this madness.
And if the point is the madness; that sparks and dies
And the spark is it
and the death is it
Then the moment is only good while it lasts
Because everything fades and is forgotten with time.

Scintilla

Peachy colored wall, peeling paint.
Red earthy gravel, stained white door frame.
An open doorway, an impartial darkness.

This is where things end.
This is where things begin.

Finite moment, infinite impression.

Slav*cough*WORK!

*SINGS*

"Oh, i think i got a job that pays ok
Chained to a desk i'll work all day
Life and time will slip away
Oh, i got me a job and the pays ok."

Why am I so afraid of Silence?

Dark room.
Grey Walls.
Stone door.

Sun glare.
Green fields.
Blue sky.

I would walk along that grey pavement forever.
I would raise my hands and feel the wind on every inch of my body.
I would thank the universe for this moment of existence.

In a dream, there would be nothing.
In a dream, there would be no clothing.
In a dream, there would be no language.

In my world there would only be bright colours
In my world the lions would grooms their paws
In my world the vultures would never land

I am a woman,
Thorned green vine exploring.

You are a stranger,
Smooth blue vine expanding.

The world will end and there will only be moments.
The world will end and there will only be grey.
The world will end and there will only be colour.

I see
I want
I feel.

Pessimism or Realism?

The Poor to Middle Class Life:

30% Sleeping
45% Working
25% Addicted to one form of crutch or another; the delusion of pleasure; numbing of the mind who's screaming how retarded this system is.

Whatever the next life is, i want a hella bigger piece of pie towards sleeping, dammit.
I'm moving to Denmark- at least they know what's up.