anti write inn

left out more often... now more than before.  i guess im a freak, or perceived that way through the reflection of light in the mirror.  i am out of the ordinary and my flavor is out of style.  leaving friends hurts.  now i wonder if its worth it to keep gaining more when they will be lost as fast as the others.  what is the point if the reset button will be hit regardless.  it is like me to overreact.

after it's name.

why end! why is there an end in the form of the major wave? An end to the most at once, to call forth those who are righteous,  maybe it simply is the nature of the continuum we are a part of. For the ideals of nature are much aligned with those in touching the aspect of the apocalypse.  Out of extreme chaos and anarchy of species, comes the deciding factor (of time) that some creatures are deemed unacceptable, at times.  There would be know people if there weren't triceratops buried beneath us. Armageddon is an ever more happening occurrence, along side an expenditure of particular exponential life.  Armageddon is the growth of knowledge within its spectrum, an infertile seed within the maze of evermore glorified life.

A mirror on the ground, up on th ee ar th.

antelope

oh piece of plastic rubber i have held onto you for years, multiple revolutions of the sun and season.  Are you worth my protection? what is?  when there are stars so close to my atmosphere and multiple galaxies within my grasp, i dare to notice the furry fuzz on the back of my hand.  Just enough to keep me warm... just enough to feel the air.  All objects i protect are just the memories of someone i wish to keep.  many times without material thoughts are inconceivable. i live for the alternative, hope i can master thought through this distinguished time.

ms. sing

have i become absent love?  am i the dull grey painted brick wall that i once ran into?  have i lost touch with the forestry i grew away from?

for i no longer feel such a passion for my surroundings while my hope for things to come is curled up stuck inside the town well.  i guess i must know why but only to fix the problem at hand.  for the short time cure is the long term problem.

trembulance cycle

as the wax statues start to rust, i need to leave the city im gonna take a bus,  though i know that im killing the dinosaurs, im not like them because they walk on all four,
legs.
when the paper planes soak up the mess, cardiovascular desire i feel within my chest, nausea spinning in the foreground of my distant past, the times that we realize dont happen so fast,
lee.

rye eeds

i am the subject of suspicion.  my existence is somewhat of a test.  i am the flavor of guilt, with the scent of worry.  tonight i am low on the totem pole, some think i am stoned, when truly i have just finished a cry.  as usual my instinct is to hide, and divide perception into two truths.  i want to move faster, from a mental perspective.  i want to easily forget.  i want to fill in the blanks.  I need to dry my eyes, more left than right.

duckduck...

you hold the dead presidents in your hand, is it luck?
she plays the instruments in the band, is it luck?
i feel my toes toes between the sand, is it luck?

is it luck?

i still have vision when im asleep, is it luck?
that wolf was killed off by the sheep, is it luck?
you have to find the things you keep, is it luck?

is it luck?

we wont remember our first sight, is it luck?
throw the first punch and win the fight, is it luck?
he's heading directly towards the light, is it luck?

is it luck?

goose or a duck?

is it luck?