new post for a new river

one asks their head, "What's wrong with America these days?" and head replies, and head replies, and head replies, and never does stop talking, to whisper. And never does stop talking to answer, on a practical and deep level, what IS going on. No one knows what is going on.
I can't even judge how much food I have been eating anymore. I can sit down and eat 3 bowls or half a bowl or 5 liters of rice and beans... As it morphs flickering from large to small to way-too-much, when it enters my mouth, falls plump in my stomach and expands, I swear. I'm a bird, I can't have rice, it swells in my belly and I explode.

There's something about leaving all the things that make you happy behind that seems so self-less. But really, i know I can't posess anything to begin with. What I'm saying is maybe it's alright to both recognize the gifts ashwern on counter tops full of beer, and table tops in wish-they-were-actually-fancy restaurant land, as being available to others, and the predominant possibility of those gifts being thrown away, and wasted. Like every thing else you bought last year.

Don't forget January is the start of tax season.

And the new year.

We're all finally 2,012 years old. Happy birthday measure of time, and the separation of unity. Who am I? Where am I? Are we still friends?

Later this evening I will compare my hopes and dreams with my anxieties and fears and realize just how far they've come... When you get to the splitting point you either hold on, or let go.
If I hold on, it could truly part, but if I let go, the nature of splitting things takes over. First, they split, then they retract then they split some more. Can two things ever be torn apart? (Here you bend down and brush the ground and think, right here, right here, is where i dropped my old. torn. heart. And let it go.)

A heart like a Magickarp. Tarot this Tarot that.
A heart like a steel refrigerator.
Bones like paper tigers, and elephants.
Ilusion is structure, and structure is illusion, in the same way Reggae keeps the beat going. When the beat goes flat, the structure seems harsh, and stuck up.

I can't remember who you are. Your face scares me though.

So.. I can't remember my recurring thoughts. It's summertime. It's almost winter and I'm scared the cold will kill me this time. I don't want to leave it's Baby Land. It's comfort time. My mother makes the best soup and tea. It makes you feel so warm. I remember being under my blankets and not knowing why i felt so stagnant and alone in a house full of people. People yelling, but sometimes people loving me, and hugging me, and being so goddamned loyal to me.

It was winter whenever I was there. I would like a car. Is this my last chance Jesus>? Jesus fills my heart with warmth and sometimes depression.
Guilt and love are not supposed to be related, Nor fear. Nor Ice. But Ethers were all elements.. Fire & Ice.

How much can I stay at home, your home? My home? Our home? This home? Every home has its own paranoias.
If I expect you to bring aliens to my cabin, will you?
If I follow you like a feather, would you breathe me in?
How dark is the trail from my veil to the lengths of the sun strings? That tug and pull on our hearts. And the cold wings that make it easy to forget just how much and where you were loved. It will take months for you to regain your balance in this shanty town. Half the time I embrace, the electronic resistance. I've thought a lot about the paths of least resistance, in kindergarten terms!
Sticking blocks into places that don't fit, how long until you quit? better get it in quick! Cause your mom wants to see you smart.

There are sounds like bubbles, falling smarter in your cufflinks. They shine with the rhythm of remembering time in line. We can hold it like a branch or a stem. It can reflect or deflect and it's all really pretty.

I wanted something I couldn't give. And sitting spinning in a rolling chair in Dad's laboratory. Spinning over and over and over again. Hold on to the image of sitting in the red chair in the office in the laboratory spinning, over and over and over again. Spinning sitting.
Sut spun out. Always seems more more more more more more.

Hands held and half of me still ever will be a child, not sure who what where but chair is spinning and will be repeated. All sanity made unclear. Would like the 9 to 5 in the Metal Shop minus the asshole roommate.

and quivering lips, for breakfast. Spending money so quickly. I can't believe
it's only a dream.