The rain is falling down as hard as ever. The indoors stay settled and silent. You’re delusional and dried up. Tired and sore, my mind is clogged too. Knowing the general right from wrongs but not how to succeed from them makes us both match up in different ways, yet succeed on different levels. Maturity is one; I have something that you lack. Certainty is another, I see things that maybe you don’t. Blissful birds singing about murder but we don’t understand, we just hear what we wish to and smile to the sound. Pineal glands stay closed but are the most open thing about us.
There is no such thing as weird, just the delightful.
Prime purchasing and secondary hearts conduct bittersweet feelings and candy flossed thoughts. Minds stay unfocussed. Come fluoride- keep on washing us keeping us all detached. The winds of change have left and yet we have no clue of what it gave us.
Palm to tip is stiff as your mind is let loose. This timid consciousness is confused now. You have confronted the demons. While the air is still warm you must grab hold of the light.
I have the urge to steal. Steal valuable possessions or even material things of no value but of personal importance. I just want to feel overwhelmed with power for once. Stealing hearts is not so fun like it used to be. I end up only stealing lust anyway. But since falling in love, I have only managed to steal happiness from both of us accidentally.
The problem is I have always lived for art, though art has never lived for me. But despite our continuously rocky relationship, I know I could never completely give it up. I live for it after all.
At the darkest of times, the music and mind seems so beautiful
— Blue Laidley
The living will always have to make space for the dead somehow.
Not to brag, but that was amazing. Eruption in minutes. A circular explosion of lust in control of the body, of its wants and needs. The constant feeling of comfort and warmth along with the reassurance of love; the emotional feeling to extract all negative vibes at this very moment in time. The moment in time when you come to one with yourself. Your feelings. The parts of your body that consist of pleasurable weakness. I have taught him well. He has taught himself even better. We are on the same page, and that page has an unidentifiable gooey fluid on the surface of the dampened paper.
Like a spider in the mouth
I put my words to thought
The fear and expectations start to surround me
Two furry legs crawling out
My eyes close up tight
This sudden wish overwhelms me
Only I would have such troubles in this haven
A problematic situation just to smell the flowers once bloomed.
With one fury foot in front of the other
I start to copy. I start to walk with in motion.
I think quietly to myself that if it is true
If this giant spider really lay in my mouth
while intimately stinging my tongue until swollen
at least I was the chosen one.
The gold box with silver ribbon
Tied around it in the warmest embrace
As soon as it opened a light shined deep into my eyes
The force so hypnotising, it let me into a paralytic stare
The minutes went by and every sound went muffled
The colours from my view heightened like a saturation shift
I felt a cold tingle go up my left finger
And from that, the tingles continued
I bet you with eternity that my finger tingles forever
I knew not to trust him. I was right. My heart so desperate for love, that it believes his wrongs. Well I don’t. Once again curled up, damaged, misused. This advantage has been taken again. But this time I’m smiling. I’m smiling because I know something. Freaks of nature. Diluted thoughts. Deluded dreams. This path is one I’m used to. Trails of bittersweet betrayals. It gives me life but I’m aware of how pathetic this beating organ can be. I never listen to it anymore. He was someone like no other, yet was like all the rest of them.
Some of the best things are left unspoken about, so I just packed them neatly away in my suitcase mind, while channelling the battle that is you.
I remember how fucked up it made me. The sun hurt my eyes and the chilly morning air made it hard for me to breathe. Every breath gave me a pain at the front of my throat, like I had swallowed Jack Frost himself, and now serving my fait. I drank the last mouthful of rum fast, feeling it burn my insides in whatever path it took. For someone so fucked, I could sure feeling the most sensitive of feelings. For someone so out of my mind, I could sure well remember and cry. I realised then how many solutions I had gone through and how it had only got me so far. Got me so deep. Got me nowhere.
I am here. Standing right here feeling so close to toppling over and experiencing yet another moment of collapsing and passing out for the day. I am here like this because I am sad and trying to find ways to become happy when it just occurred to me… maybe the outcome would be the complete opposite if I just let go of trying to find happiness, and instead live my life by enjoying the happiness of being sad.