Shis whiam

It's as though i lose my self with the ones I get too close to. I cannot seem to look inside sometime and I no longer feel familiar with what I am. Why must I perceive it this way, am I even that afraid to be without them? Or am I afraid to be with them? I want to fix my mistakes but I feel so stubborn, every thought in attempt to justify the belief that she is not to me as I am to her. But I don't want to believe it .

A peach

quite possibly the explianation for all existence.

winter with the green tongue taste

Winter with the green tongue taste, and open cauldron filled with autumn sink my body to the bottom.  The thick oils of dirt and dry air blazing a fire through the forest of my hair.  All of my friends lost their clothes in the river drowning in the sound of undefined growth.  I wear a smile like a lace in my shoe. Now my shoes are untied and and my face will turn blue.

Winter with the green tongue flavor, coconut, paisley, basil, and squares.  Bright sounds make loud shines, lightbulbs and speakers are the least of my cares.

Africosmokingston

On a yellow morning in the light came the of sight of violent voices and the sounds of angry eyes.

Freedom from the rusted cage turned harder each passing day for the elder tortoise.

Time became a falling rock, acceleration through dimensional mirrors, only to become a stone within an archway in castle de agora.

of once had been people between me

   So strange, to be recognized by those who barely know me, yet ignored by those i have connected with.  Is it a misconception? Is it an ancient frozen narwhal? Is all that is salvageable its DNA?

   (now the dreams are thick and more defined, visual atrocities, light convulsions)

   While the maker sat alone surrounded by itself, the senses dulled to a metaphysical delusion.  Lamps turned into green smelling porcupines. Trees swayed in the wind as lungs, breathing them in and fueling the blood behind the tongue.  Candle sticks flickered in musical rhythms, speaking our ancestors names through the flames.  Dirt gets swept up by roots, families from dust become truth. The sun awakes bristled scratches, latching onto flavored bright white batches.

dream 111,112

   (these doubts attempt to ruin me. is it a struggle with myself or a struggle against reality?)

I dont know how i got here but we are in bed once again.  the sheets consume us both as we grow with each others warmth. now the dark maroon abyss engulfs our bodies as i move to please you. you have a cock, that's something i never noticed before. its small, your testicles are bigger than mine but you penis is smaller, i think its cute.  i lift your butt into the air as i taste your balls and squeeze you.  the look on your face is beyond ecstatic then you cum, all over your bed and face. theres no time to lie down. you quickly shower and dress up take a seat in the booth at the waffle house.  you're in a hurry im having to hunt for you... when i find you in the booth you are ignorant of me as if im just another server without your refill.  i attempt to explain myself but you wont even look at me as if you viewed me with disgust.  appalled at you in realization that you were over my sex, and uninterested in my body, i move out to riot on the midnight new orleans streets.

(now that i'm awake and aware of my fucked up mind it is time to masturbate yet again)

one more first try

the pond ripple has come to peak again.  swaying with the pendulum in absent orange myth, underneath the hollow forest, coaxed in green fleshy film. wear the animals, across your shoulders and around your head. we are the animals, breaking up boulders and decorating the dead. Where are the animals? they were much older than could ever be said.